Cindersmellya - Page 252

“Well they’re going to notice pretty soon,” Simon says.

“I’m not going back, so it’s no bother for me,” I tell him and turn around to walk out.

What? It’s true.

Ethan basically fired me. From his company. And I’m pretty sure from his life.

Have you ever been in a crowd of people but felt utterly and completely alone?

Well, hun, welcome to me right about now.

I mean, that overcast sky might as well just open up and start raining right about now as I walk down 7th Avenue because that’s my mood.

As if deciding to play a cruel joke on me, I hear something that seems like light rumbling as I approach 52nd Street and 7th Avenue, and the first bits o

f water start to fall on my head.

Great, now even Mother Nature is deciding to hate me.

The bits of rain quickly turn into a downpour as people scramble around me. The skies darken even farther as I approach Columbus Circle, the horses whinnying along Central Park South.

I’ll tell you one thing though, hun. It’s a good thing it's raining. Because the tears kind of get washed away when I see the giant billboard next to the Trump International Hotel & Tower advertising Illicit Escape.

Right there, holding the futuristic glasses, is my smiling face. The tag line, “Revolutionizing Pleasure” written in a sexy font.

I’m glad you can’t see my tears.

It's in these moments that the biggest city in the world becomes the loneliest place on earth.

But it’s nothing that I don’t deserve after everything I’ve just done.

***

The next week is basically like that day. Cold, sad, depressing, and rainy.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been like this. I mean, I had a chance to be happy. I had a chance to settle down with a man that truly, really loved me.

I know what you’re going to say, though. I had an impossible choice. It was either protect myself from Robert or run again.

And why exactly did I sell Ethan out?

Because I didn’t want to run. Because I wanted to stay in New York City and make a home for the baby that I’m carrying. Hoping that Ethan would understand.

I mean, I did go and tell him—at the end. I confessed to lying to him, trying to steal from him, and taking his heart under false pretense.

And what did he do?

He gave me everything I wanted.

He gave me the computer coding for the software that runs the Illicit Escape. He let me keep my home.

He gave me everything I asked for.

But it turns out, while I was on my knees pleading to him to show me mercy, I never once asked him to forgive me and hold me.

To take me back.

But isn’t that the story of my life?

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