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I see him amping up to take me down and I can’t do this anymore. He can win, I don’t have any more fight in me today. He can have all the last words so I can take a minute and process.

“Says the woman who’s falling apart in a business meeting.” I flinch. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. Shit. Lizzie, sorry, I don’t—” He puts his head in his hands.

I turn towards the door to hide the building tears I refuse to shed. My voice is weaker than I’d like as I reach the door. “I have to go.”

His voice is teeming with fury. “No, you don’t. The only thing on your agenda today was to meet me. Stay right here so we can talk about all of this, Lizzie.”

He can’t see me, but the fucking tears are now on my cheeks. I have to get out of here and work through this.

My voice is shards woven loosely together. I can barely get my words out without breaking into a sob. “I’m Bette. Not Lizzie anymore. And I can’t be near you, please let me go.” I turn towards him with the purpose of letting him know I’ve cracked. His face falls. He knows he’s overstepped and walks towards me. I quickly leave, closing the door behind me, and run towards the elevator. I duck into the copy room to the left of the reception desk as I hear him calling after me.

His voice is booming. “Lizzie. Bette, I don’t care what your name is. Stop.”

He looks at reception and asks, “Did you see Bette Miller run out here?” She shrugs. She saw my tear-stained face. He tries again. “Beautiful, striking woman, light-green eyes, chic brown hair with a reddish tint? Wearing a cream pencil skirt and blouse? Green necklace that dipped just below her neckline?” It’s killing me that he called me beautiful. And he’s memorized my outfit.

“No, sir.”

Atta girl. Chicks before dicks.

He mutters something in frustration and he’s gone. I hear the elevator ding and the reception girl says, “It’s all clear, you can go.”

“Thank you. It’s me, not him.” I don’t want them to think he did something to me. “I must be hormonal. Seriously, he’s a good guy. The best I’ve ever known.” And the worst.

She smiles and nods.

HAYDEN

She doesn’t get to slip into nothingness again while I seethe with anger. I’m the one who gets to be pissed and hurt. How is it that Bette and Lizzie have dominated my thoughts for five fucking years? Ever since she started at the company, they’ve been a seesaw of thoughts, and they’re the same freaking person. Such a twisted mindfuck.

I’ve hated her, wanted her, been challenged by all her pranks, and taunts. Bette’s the only woman in all these years to spark me in any way since Lizzie. My heartache occupying the rest of the news cycle when Bette wasn’t. Jesus, I even let my mind wander to what it would be like beyond all the anger.

I stalk back to the hotel. The city’s whizzing by me, but it’s a different city now. Last night I was planning to walk to all the romantic postcard places with Lizzie. I thought if we walked in a city together we might rediscover love.

But on the plane ride here, I had thoughts of walking these streets with Bette as well. Maybe not the Hallmark places I’d take Lizzie, but I was going to suggest we go to the Guggenheim and dinner. I wanted to know her because there was always something more about her. Turns out, she’s the one who decimated my heart. Fuck her and her untouchable gorgeous face with her Bette business outfit on Lizzie’s curves. Her fiery red lips that belong to sassy Bette, but the smile is pure Lizzie. I want to fuck her, kill her, hold her, and ruin her. I hurry through the revolving doors and punch the elevator button. I throw open the connecting door to the mystery suite and it’s stunning and huge. It’s a shared living room and kitchen with a dining table and a terrace, for Christ’s sake. But I slam my communal door hard, so she feels the shudder.

I shout, “Honey, I’m home. Where’s my fucking slippers?” I stand in the middle of the room to taunt her into facing me. Lizzie will hide, but Bette will rally to fight me. Bring on Bette, so we can get to the bottom of Lizzie and Danny.

I cross my arms and shout, “Shouldn’t you have the Boast account all buttoned up so I can take credit for your work?” That should be enough to pull Bette into the arena so the battle can begin.

The adjoining door to her room flies open and shakes the bad Southwestern artwork on the wall. I stand ready to do battle with this woman who has governed my thoughts and world for way too long.

Her face is streaked with dried tears. She’s cleaned her eye makeup and her hair is down and wild. She takes my breath away, but I rein it in. Just need to tell my dick that. He’s working on his own timeline here.

She shrieks, “Who do you think you are ordering me around?”

I toss out, “Tonight, are we Bette and Hayden? Or Danny and Lizzie?”

“Fuck you.” She turns to leave and her curvy ass taunts me.

I widen my stance. I’m sure to her it looks like a power pose, but it’s to give my dick a little breathing room so he calms the hell down. “Bette. Good to see you.” She whips her head around and stares at me.

Her voice is strong and sure. “Why did you stand me up?”

“Ok. Hello, Lizzie! Jesus. What do you want from me?”

I circle the room and pull my hair all the way to the ends. Stand her up? She’s got to be fucking kidding, I’m seeing red. She’s still wearing that cream fucking pencil skirt. Her ass is mocking me with its perfection and that’s illegal in a fair fight. She has the edge and it’s up to me to make sure she doesn’t know that.

I breathe in and out while staring at her as her chest rises and falls quickly. She’s twisting her thumbs then she puts her hands on her haughty and deliciously curvy hips.