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Probably.The word that’s not enough, and leaves the door open for all other doubt.What else is he hiding?
“He’s obviously bad news, anyway. I mean, damn, cocaine? I dabbled with it in college, but that’s never something I’d, like, keep in my bedroom drawer.”
In my book, cocaine doesn’t hold a candle to having run someone off the road and not caring to make sure they’re okay. “I don’t want to sink back into this hellhole of emotions. I’ve ruminated long enough, and it’s time to move on.”
“I think it will get a lot easier once you’ve moved branches. And who knows, maybe in a week or two, you’ll feel safe enough to return home.”
Safe.Because I have no real idea who he is anymore. I never did. He ran Brad off that road, and he didn’t give a shit about it. He was able to give Larissa the address to my apartment. He denied stalking me before, and I was a fool to believe his excuses.
“Oh my god!” I shout suddenly.
“What?” Char replies with alarm.
“Promise me something, though.”
“What?”
“If you actually do decide to date Brad, tell me.”
“Do you think…” It’s the only real explanation. That’s why he kept insisting he wasn’t jealous. “That’swhy he cared about my date with Brad.”
It only takes a second for the understanding to dawn on Char. “Fuck. That’s insidious.”
My stomach rolls as a new sense of determination fills me: these are the last tears I will weep over this walking red flag of a man. “I’m done with him.”
“Good riddance,” Char agrees, standing up and clapping her hands. “I have to get some work done, but why don’t we do a self-care day when I finish? Mani-pedi’s, shopping, dinner… the whole shebang,” Char offers.
“That sounds perfect,” I say, my voice sounding more assured.
Char picks up on it and beams at me. “Great! Give me a few hours.”
Once she leaves the room, I get up and make her bed. I focus on the soft, rose-colored linens and matching fluffy pillows as I sniff the remaining clogs out of my nose. The nicely made bed instantly lifts my spirits, making me feel a little more capable and put-together.
I head to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth, realizing I have nothing else to keep busy with. I’m not used to being unemployed. What if Jasmine tells me that they won’t let me relocate?
That fear drives me to spend the next few hours working on my resumé and searching for open positions on various websites. I don’t apply to any of the postings yet, though I most definitely won’t be applying for the accountant position at the company Brad works for. There’s no way I can stomach keeping this secret in his presence.
The guilt gnaws at me already.
My preferred option is to remain with Valeri Financials. The pay is good, and I like what I do there; I just don’t want to have to see Lorenzo.
“You think I want to think about you constantly?”
“To feel like I need you?”
“Please know that I do care about you, Kate.”
His words have started to haunt me. Shaking my head, I close my laptop, feeling productive if nothing else. Just as I’ve stowed it in my bag, Char bursts into the room and claps her hands together.
“Okay, I cleared the pertinent things I had to handle. Time for some self-love!”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to fall behind because of me.”
“Kate, stop. These are the perks of running your own business,” she says with a flippant wave. Char has such a flair about her. I can’t help but envy how she can effortlessly go with the flow, unconsumed by the chaos. Even the outfit she wears—tight ripped jeans, a flowy pink and light green striped blouse, and beige wedges—exudes her laid-back energy.
“Let’s grab a late lunch, too. I’m starving,” she adds, digging through her makeup box and pulling out mascara and eyeliner. I gaze at my reflection in her floor-length mirror, contemplating the message my simple black linen dress conveys. Perhaps the spaghetti straps and three brown buttons speak to my desire to break free from my constraints.
Shaking off the thoughts, I pull my phone off the charger, causing the screen to illuminate. I scroll through my notifications, tapping on a message from an unsaved contact.
