Fuck It (Yama Yama)

Screw it. I tap his name and bring the phone to my ear.

It rings four times before a voice answers, “Simon’s phone.”

A female voice. I’m frozen, too shocked to reply.

“Hello?”

“Uh. Yeah. I-is Simon there?” Don’t freak out. He’s probably in a meeting and left his phone with the secretary or something.

“He’s in the shower. I suggest you call back later. Or text like a normal person.”

The call disconnects, and I stare at the phone. What the hell? Text? How about I come over there and choke a bitch? Whoever that was, I hate her.

He’s in the shower. And her hateful tone at hearing me ask for him. Clearly, Simon has moved on. I’m too late.

Emotions war inside of me during the drive home. I should be happy. I just landed my dream job.

I’d like to land my fist in that smartass bitch’s face. Whoever she is.

No, none of that. I have no right to be jealous. We aren’t together. It’s my own fault for hesitating and second guessing what Simon and I had. Or what we could’ve had.

Not for one second while I’ve been agonizing over what I want did I think that Simon might find someone else. Not in a week at least.

Calling a mystery woman names and hating her isn’t going to help anything.

I’m fine.

I’m a good person who can deal with this heartbreak and jealousy sensibly.

A bright yellow SUV chooses that moment to cut me off, and I slam on the brakes. “Eat shit and die, you fucking Big Bird bitch!”

The rest of the drive home doesn’t improve my mood, and I’m on the verge of tears by the time I let myself inside.

Sicily and Anderson are laughing and working at the dining room table. “Hey! How did the interview go?” Sicily calls.

“Fine. Do we have any wine?”

“Sure, already chilled.”

“Thanks.” I grab the bottle and make a beeline for my room. I can hear Sicily excuse herself and a moment later she taps on my door. “It’s open.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. I’m great. Never better. You can get back to your work. I know you’re on a deadline. I’ll tell you about the interview later.”

Sicily sits beside me and gives me a doubtful look.

I take a big drink straight from the bottle. “Men are assholes, you know that? They tell you they want a relationship, and then they run off. Fine, so maybe I ran off first, but just down the beach, not miles away.” Her eyebrows leap up at my second long pull from the bottle. “Then when you finally get the nerve to call, some ugly, brainless, bucket of dumpster water answers the phone and says he’s in the shower.”

“Oh,” Sicily exclaims.

“Yeah.” Man, this wine is going down easy. My head is already swimming.

Sicily reaches over and removes the bottle from my hand. “Maybe slow down a little on that. Do you want to talk?”

Tears spill over, and she hesitates before putting an arm around me awkwardly. “Um…there, there.” She pats my back.

A snort of laughter leaps out despite my tears, and she smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m not good at this stuff. Tell me what I can do.”

“You’re doing fine. I’m okay. Just…it shocked me, hearing a woman answer.”

Sicily nods and tilts her head. “Wait, it’s not like they can be fucking, right?”

Holy stitched up penis, she’s right!

“I was so mad I totally forgot.” It doesn’t mean he couldn’t do other things to her, but he isn’t even supposed to get hard yet.

“Have you decided you want to be with him?”

“I miss him.”

“You love him,” she accuses.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with him. I didn’t want to love anyone.”

Sicily chuckles and grabs the bottle of wine. “I don’t know anything about relationships, but I know we don’t get to make that choice. Come on, I’ll tell Anderson to go and then pour us both a glass.”

“No. I’m okay. Or I will be. I’d rather be alone for a while to think. But thanks.”

It takes a little more talking before she feels comfortable leaving me to return to her project with Anderson. Sicily really is a sweet person.

I’d like to say I came to my senses and stopped having an emotional meltdown. I really would. What I end up doing is finishing the bottle of wine and singing to every sad song on my playlist until I crash and pass out.

I’m awake far earlier than usual and feel like hell when I shuffle into the kitchen for coffee. Despite the early hour, Anderson is dressed and sitting at the table.

“Seriously?” He frowns at the Yama tee shirt I’m wearing.

“Sorry, Kasha handed them out to everyone. They’re very comfy.” I can hear Sicily bustling around in her room. “Do you two ever sleep?” I ask. He and Sicily are born workaholics.

“We present Sicily’s campaign to the client today. We have to be in early.” He hesitates before continuing. “I heard about you and Simon. I’m sorry.”