115
Brittney
I’m staring down at my tequila shot, the amber liquid saying nothing but “Drink me.” Not exactly helpful advice, but I take it anyway and toss back the shot. I feel the warmth of the alcohol spread through my veins, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
Nothing makes me feel better.
Lisa leans over and gives me a one-armed hug. I snuffle into her arm. I probably sound like a two-year-old crying to her mom, but I don’t even care right now.
“Whhhhhyyyyyyy???” I wail. Lisa quickens her patting pace until it’s almost a fan, cooling me off. “Why do I fall for these assholes?!”
“I know, honey,” she says comfortingly. “Guys just can’t help but be assholes sometimes.”
She knows what she’s talking about – Diesel had decided for her that she wouldn’t want to move to Long Island, not even bothering to ask her until his broken heart had finally driven him to stop being an idiot.
Somehow, I don’t have as much faith in Kaden. He really is a genius in the boardroom, and an idiot outside of it.
But dammit, he was an idiot I happened to be falling for.
The waterworks display is seriously getting out of control here. Even I realize that. I try to snuffle my tears back. Lisa hands me a tissue and I honk my nose.
God, I’m so ladylike. I roll my eyes at myself.
“The thing is, I’m not even so sure that I mind that he stalked me. Okay, so really, greasing some palms and finding out how much vacation time I have on the books is just totally beyond the pale, but he did it because he wanted to impress me. That’s kinda flattering, really. The fact that he took that much time to really learn about me…I wish he’d taken the time to ask me instead of sending out a team of investigators to discover this stuff, but god, he was just trying to make me happy.”
I’ll admit it – this realization took me almost a week to really wrap my mind around. At first, I’d just been too pissed to think straight, and then I was too depressed.
The good news is, I took that week of vacation that my boss has been hounding me about.
The bad news is, I spent that week at home in my PJs, eating Girl Scout cookies, watching every variation of Pride & Prejudice that I could get my hands on, and crying.
I really shouldn’t have any tears left in me. I don’t know how I can still be producing any at this point.
“So why are you so unhappy?” Lisa has changed her pats over to strokes up and down my arm, and I sink into her side even further. This. This is what I need. A balm to soothe my soul.
“Because he didn’t fight me at all. Last week when I was yelling at him, or this whole past week when I’ve been at home.” Getting fat eating Thin Mints. “He just let me walk on out him and hasn’t said ‘Boo’ to me since. No flowers, no texts, no phone calls…I don’t think he cares. He’s probably off, stalking some other girl at the Bungalow 8. I’m worth less than nothing to him – not even worth fighting for.”
I mean, you’ve watched all the same chick-flick movies that I have. The guy goes after the girl and apologizes. He holds a boombox up in the air. He makes an ass of himself on national television. Something.
But not Kaden. He doesn’t even seem to realize that I’m gone.
And that hurts more than anything.
116
Kaden
I stare down into my tequila shot, hoping for answers, but the alcohol doesn’t seem to be delivering any.
“I lost her,” I say dully to Diesel. “I lost the only woman who’s ever made me feel alive. Who’s ever lit up my life and made me chase after her and made me think and made me want to be a better man.” I toss the tequila back, feeling the burn down my throat and into my stomach. It’s the only thing I can feel right now, and above all else, I crave the ability to feel something.
Diesel, a friend since high school, claps me on the back. “Kaden, you’re being a dumbass.”
Sometimes, I’m not sure if knowing someone since high school is such a bonus after all.
“She’s testing you. And you’re failing. Just like our high school English class, you’re getting your ass handed to you on a silver platter.”
All right, fine, I’ll admit it – numbers are my thing. Words? Not so much. As is evidenced by my apparent complete inability to say the right ones to Brittney.