Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

I was also broken-hearted and devastated.

Grant didn’t come to the north bedroom Saturday night.

And he had Trevor drive me home in the world’s most awkward commute back into the city. He’d tried small talk and I had cried. Eventually he’d just turned up the radio and pretended he didn’t hear me weeping and sucking snot back up into my nostrils. Considering it was my first meeting with him, I’m sure I left an absolutely fabulous impression. At least he’d helped me escape the Caldwells out the back door before anyone woke up, presumably all nursing hangovers from the previous night’s festivities.

When Trevor had knocked on the bedroom door, I’d thought it was Grant.

Then was hurt and angry when it wasn’t.

I’d left the engagement ring on the nightstand, unsure what the hell had actually happened between us.

“Javier!” Felicia yelled.

My other roommate’s face appeared in the doorway. “Oh, shit,” was his reaction.

“How could you let this happen?” Felicia asked him. “I’ve been out all day at the flea market for work and I come

home to this. You should be checking on her.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, looking annoyed at being called out. “She’s an adult. How the hell was I supposed to know what she was doing in here?”

I took another sip of wine, uninterested in their blame-game. “I’m fine. I’m drunk. I’m miserable. I’m wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress in bed but it’s all good. It’s a reminder of how stupid I was to think that someone like Grant and someone like me could be together. Forever.” I thought about being married to Grant and I wanted to raise my fists in the air and demand answers from a cruel universe.

Not to be dramatic or anything.

Why had I said no? I mean, after I fake said no, and then he told me it was real.

But everything had happened so fast and had all been so confusing and I’d been terrified that I would get in too deep.

Real didn’t feel real and getting engaged was crazy impulsive and he’d purposely not told me about the theater and I’d avoided telling him about being fired. And why would I think that he was serious? Who got engaged after two weeks?

The weekend had imploded but now I wanted to talk and the only communication from him was a check that arrived by courier on Monday. There was no note.

“I think I should leave,” Javier said. “That’s a vibrator lying on the bed next to her and this is very awkward for me.”

I glanced over at the pink present from Grant. The vibrator wasn’t technically from him which made it even more pathetic that I was treating it like a comfort animal. “I’m not using it. It just reminds me of him.”

There was a pause, then Javier said, “See, that doesn’t make this any less awkward. Maybe even more.”

“I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable,” I said, slurring the middle syllable of uncomfortable. “My life is uncomfortable. I am in love with a billionaire and I got fired from the diner. I fucking got fired from the only job between me and starvation and death and it’s your fault, Javi.”

Felicia gasped. “You got fired?”

I nodded and took another sip. Wine dribbled onto my chin.

Javier’s eyebrows rose. “How is this my fault?”

“You didn’t warn me hard enough. You told me to go to the Hamptons. Have fun, you said. You didn’t tell me not to fall in love with him.”

“I thought that was understood. I told you he’s a player.”

That hurt my heart. Two fat tears squeezed up out of my eyes and rolled down the sides of my cheeks. I picked up the vibrator, needing to emphasis what I was about to say. I pointed it at my roommates. “He is not a player. Don’t say that. He’s a good man even if he’s a control freak and bossy as hell.” I sighed, turning my head to see all the designer clothes strewn about my tiny room. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?” I said, pessimism crushing me.

I imagined suffocating under the weight of my dreams and Chanel.

My audition for the role of Cher was in two days and I wasn’t prepared.

Spiraling? I was going over Niagara Falls without a barrel.