Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Talk about humiliation.
Joke was on him because I went—alone. Dad drove me to the dance, and I hung out with the girlfriends who were also there solo, all the while plotting Dan’s downfall. Plot Twist: Dan was homecoming king the following year, so yeah—mission not accomplished.
My point is, why are some women like this? Calculating and manipulative.
You had a great guy, and you cheated. Then you had another great guy, and you screw him over, too?
Me: I guess I should stop putting it off, hey? When are you available?
Eli: I’m ready when you are.
Shit. That’s not what I was hoping he’d say. I was hoping he’d come back with something like, “Tomorrow after five works.” Or, “Sunday at noon.”
I nibble on my thumbnail while I debate.
Take a deep breath, then sigh.
Why is adulting so hard? What on earth is he going to tell me?
Me: Sure, I’m free now.
I’m free now because for the past few hours, I've done nothing but think about the confrontation in his apartment. I haven't been able to work or focus on anything else. Trying to have a meeting or compose an email has been fruitless.
Within seconds, my phone begins to ring, that peppy little tune I always thought so cute now sending a pit straight to my stomach.
“Hey, it’s me,” Eli tells me as if I wasn’t expecting his call, and I wasn’t expecting it to be him. As if you were some random guy making a phone call at a random time in the afternoon.
“Hey,” I say for lack of something better, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. I feel like a fool because…because I don’t know why. This has nothing to do with me—not technically—although I seem to be collateral damage.
Or I assume I will be.
“You don’t sound thrilled to be speaking to me.” His attempt at a joke has me cracking a bit of a smile, for I’ll admit it does feel good to hear his voice.
I’ve missed him, and it’s only been a few days.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “Sorry, it’s not that I’m not thrilled…” but I have nothing to apologize for, and I refuse to say it. Instead, I go with, “I wasn’t sure what to say to you, so I thought I would hold off for you to contact me since, you know…”
…it’s your crazy ex-girlfriend.
“Let me start by saying I’m extremely embarrassed about the entire situation. Laura just busting in like that—I had no idea she still had a key when I should have known. I’m also really fucking embarrassed she dropped a bomb like that with you there. The whole thing is so messed up, you don’t even know.”
I don’t even know?
Um.
I disagree—I’m super well aware of how messed up the situation is.
SUPER aware!
“What happened after I left?”
Obviously, I’m curious. I want to know, but I also don’t want to know because the truth is going to make or break whatever this thing was between us.
“Well. First, she sidetracked and started asking a bunch of questions about who you were.”
Wait. What? “What kind of questions?”
“She wanted to know who you were.”
This perks me up.
“Okay, but…what did you say?” Suddenly, I’m thirsty for details.
“I told her it was none of her business.”
I’m immediately deflated. “Oh. So you didn’t say anything like, ‘That’s Molly, and we’re dating,’ or something like that?”
“No, I said—who that is is none of your fucking business.”
Oh.
Bummer.
I get the sense that he wants me to be pleased with this pronouncement, but I’m not. My ego is a tad deflated, however screwed up that rationale is.
“Did she ask anything else?”
God, why am I so desperate to hear that he spoke about me?
Because you’re jealous.
Shut up. No, I’m not.
Yes, you are. Otherwise, it wouldn’t bother you so bad that his ex showed up.
Um, are you out of your mind? She didn’t just show up. She showed up guns blazing, PREGNANT, declaring he might be the father. That wasn’t her casually showing up.
Duh.
“Yeah, for a bit, she wouldn’t let it go. She wanted to know your name and what you did for a living. It was turning into a one-sided pissing contest for some ungodly reason.”
Ah, so she’s jealous, too.
“Interesting. Why do you suppose that is?” I ask, sounding very much like my therapist, which reminds me that I should absolutely schedule an emergency session.
“If I knew how Laura’s brain worked, things might have gone differently.”
Laura.
Ugh, I wish he’d stop using her first name. It makes the whole thing feel too real, and real is not what I need right now. I want to go back to that warm and fuzzy place we were in before she barged in to ruin everything.
This is not a test. This is a mess.
It’s as if I can hear my nan’s voice right now. Nan, who loved love, would be having fits right now at the drama this man has brought into my life, intentionally or unintentionally.