When I leave the office, I pull that damn gold band back out of my pocket and slide it right back on my finger, and I know it has more to do with me and less to do with her. She tempts me too damn much, but I don’t have time to unpack that shit right now. I made a promise to a man I respect, and I have to try my hardest to keep it.
Chapter 4
Leighton
My world has never felt smaller than it does right now. Of all the damn men in the world. I thought it was bad walking into my father’s office on Friday and finding him in a lip lock with our chief financial officer, Margaret. Apparently, them being in love for the last fifteen years was supposed to make it okay, was supposed to erase the thirty-five-year marriage he had with my mother. Their marriage is a complete joke. It has been for as long as I can remember, but that’s why they make divorces, right? You don’t love someone, leave them. Don’t cheat on them behind their back for a decade and a half.
Men suck. All of them. Every last one.
And yes, I know that’s why the disclosure of John’s little golden band last night hit me harder than maybe it would’ve two weeks ago, but shit, men are just useless when it comes to commitment. The grass is always greener and all that, I guess. They’re never happy or satisfied. Why get married in the first damn place? If love is such a fucking joke, then don’t make vows, don’t tie a woman down then go looking for someone else. Let that woman find someone willing to be faithful. Unless men like that don’t exist at all, which is the direction I’m leaning toward more and more these days.
But then again, some people find love, I realize when I see my sister’s name flash on my phone. I quickly pay the cab driver and step out of the car before answering.
“Men suck,” I mutter instead of hello.
“Still not over Dad and Margaret?”
“I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell me,” I mutter as I enter the hotel lobby.
The place is bustling with people, and I have to keep to one side of the lobby to avoid getting my toes run over by rolling suitcases from people not paying attention to where they’re going.
“It wasn’t my place, but honestly, you’ve always had rose-colored glasses where Dad is concerned. You wouldn’t have believed it.”
“I don’t,” I argue. “I know Mom and he aren’t happy, but—”
“But what?” she challenges. “You think he’s just living in misery? The man deserves a little happiness.”
“He could’ve left her.”
“If he leaves, he loses everything.”
Chelsea is right. Mom is the one with the control in the relationship. It’s Dad’s name on the building, but she’s the one who brought the money into the relationship. Legally, she owns everything.
“I told him I couldn’t work for a dishonest man. I think I broke his heart.”
The elevator dings its arrival, but before I can step on it, a man pushes me out of the way to take the last available spot. I stand, glaring at him, but he’s too busy on his phone to even notice me giving him the evil eye.
“Men suck,” I say loudly, but even that declaration goes without response.
“Not all men,” Chelsea says with a soft sigh.
“Well, you got the last good one, that’s for sure. How is your boy toy?”
“He’s fine and quit calling him a boy toy.”
“Still makes you a cougar,” I say, reaching over and pressing the button to call another elevator. I tug open the top button of my blouse. The damn thing is suffocating me, or it could be the damn heat traveling all over my body from the anger I still feel from seeing John at the Blackbridge office.
“I believe the definition of a cougar has the woman at over thirty-five and the man has to be eight years younger. Gabe is only four years younger than me.”
“Seems you’ve done some research. That’s what old women do.”
She scoffs. “I’m only eleven months older than you. Don’t forget it.”
Silence fills the line as the elevator opens. Several other people get in the car, and I refuse to speak with others around. Chelsea knows this about me, so she waits. Once inside the hotel room, I pop my AirPods in so I can move around the room and still converse with her.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“I told you what I’m going to do.”
“And I thought you’d take a few days and calm down.”
“I can’t work for a man who would cheat on his wife.”
“Even knowing what a hateful woman she is? You lived with her for eighteen years. You know she’s terrible.”
“He should’ve divorced her.”