Lunches with my mother are awful, and I know it will mean a bad day for me.
So today, all of that happened, and it was bad.
But then it got a fuck of a lot worse.
My uncle Luke showed up, apparently dining in the same restaurant. He walked up, air kissing my mom on both cheeks, and then turned to give me a hug. My entire body recoiled before he could touch me, and I almost barfed up chunks of ham and boiled egg on him. I claimed a sudden headache and fled to the bathroom, where I knew if I waited long enough, he would leave.
And he did.
And then I did.
I headed straight home after making excuses my mother wasn't interested in hearing and got on my computer, scheduling the only thing that I knew would fix me and make it better.
I contacted One Night Only, and I set up a "date" with some guy I picked at random. I didn't care what his name was, or what he looked like, or even how big his cock was. All I cared about was that he could meet me in a hotel within the hour and let me fuck away my misery.
So I did.
I fucked him spectacularly, and I had a few moments of peace. I was able to forget all about my horrid day and let pleasure fill me up. I sucked it all up, demanded more, and then sucked it up again.
And now I'm home and I just wanted you to know that my day was shitty, and even though I know it's wrong, I fixed it the only way I know how.
I hope you forgive me.
Love,
Macy
Chapter 9
"You look like hell, Cal," Janis says to me with worried eyes.
"Feel like hell," I mutter as I take the stack of messages she hands me. I had just meandered into her office, more than two hours late for work.
Not that I have set hours, since I own the firm, but I usually arrive to work before anyone else. When I'm late, there's usually cause for worry.
I know my eyes are bloodshot. She can probably smell the vodka still oozing out of my pores even though I stood in the shower for almost forty-five minutes this morning, trying to make myself wake up.
And that's all because I got shit-faced, stinking drunk last night. It's what guys do, apparently, when they break a woman's heart.
And that's apparently what I did to Camille last night when I ended it with her after another week of giving it my all.
Things just weren't working out between us, and God knows, I think both of us really tried. Things had settled down and conversation was coming a bit easier. We were becoming comfortable with each other again. She didn't annoy me as much.
What is annoying me, however, is myself. I'm annoyed with myself because when it boils down to it, I can't commit fully to Camille because I apparently still have Macy on the brain. And I can't fucking get rid of it.
Any time I have sex with Camille, I think about Macy. It's progressed too. I'm not just reliving the memories of what we did, but I'm fantasizing about a million different dirty things I want to do to her now. And I think about Macy even when I'm not having sex with Camille. About non-sex things. I'm wondering what Macy's deal is. Why is a seemingly smart, rich woman so closed off from relationships? Why does she bounce from bed to bed? And more importantly, what is it about me that made her want to do a repeat? Am I special? Is there something there? Am I fucking going insane?
It's bordering on a sick obsession, and the one thing I do know... this isn't fair to Camille. I just can't keep leading her on, letting her believe that I'm really in to her when I'm not. So last night, I went to her apartment and broke things off with her. She cried... for three hours straight while I tried to console her. She's riddled with guilt because she thinks the reason I can't commit is because she left me six months ago. I totally didn't have the heart or the balls to tell her it's because I think another woman holds my mind hostage and she enslaves my dick as well.
After I left her apartment, I went back to my own and downed several vodka tonics. I'm not normally a drinker, but my stomach was swimming with guilt, so I let the vice of alcohol numb me. I'm paying for it though this morning because I feel like total shit, and I have to attend a deposition this afternoon.
Leaving Janis' office, I head to the break room and make myself a cup of coffee. I down it while I stand at the counter, flipping through the stack of messages Janis took for me this morning. Making myself another cup of coffee, I head to my office.
My morning trudges by slowly, and it's probably because I've got a headache that won't go away and nausea gurgling in my belly. I switch from coffee to ginger ale by lunchtime, and have Janis run out to pick me up a sub that I'm only able to eat about three bites of before I feel like I'm going to hurl.
That's it... I'm done drinking forever.
And then I snicker to myself, because man... if I had a quarter for every time I had that exact same sentiment when I was in college and partying my ass off, I'd be a rich man.
A knock on my door causes my head to pound in tune with the rapping knuckles. When I look up, I try to smile at Mac as she stands there, but it comes out more as a grimace.
"Are you hungover?" she asks as she walks in and sits down in a chair opposite my desk.
She's looking particularly stunning today with her black hair pulled back into a severe bun that highlights the gorgeous curves and angles of her face.
I nod, and then wince because even that hurts. "Made merry with some vodka last night."
"Camille?" she asks, but she knows the answer to that. While I haven't told Mac about what happened between Macy and me, or the fact that I can't seem to stop thinking about her, she does know that I've been having a hard time reconnecting with Camille.
"I broke things off with her last night," I tell her as I take a sip from the can of ginger ale on my desk.
"I'd like to say I'm sorry," Mac says in a kind voice. "But she wasn't the one for you."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you weren't the one for her," she says simply. "She left you behind.
"Ouch," I say with mock hurt.
"You know it's true," she tells me firmly. "If it was meant to be, you two would have made it work six months ago. You would have kept the relationship going. What you've been doing with her these last several weeks? Just a waste of time, my friend."
Not a total waste of time, I think to myself. At least it kept me occupied and away from Macy.
I give an accommodating smile to Mac, but I don't respond. This subject is boring to me already and while I still feel guilty for hurting her last night, I'm ready to move past it.
"So what's up?" I ask her, knowing she needs help on a case. I know this because the only time we seem to end up in each other's offices are when we need to pick the other's brain about something. Otherwise, we are so busy during the day that we don't see each other. If it wasn't for our standing weekly dinner date where we spend half the time going over firm business and the other half just being friends, Mac and I could end up going weeks sometimes without seeing each other because of our hectic schedules.
Mac's eyes lower to the ground, and she nibbles on her bottom lip.
Oh, shit. That means she's getting ready to ask me to do something I won't like. I immediately go on hyper alert, my brain starting to twirl with a million different excuses I can give her if it's something I'll abhor doing.
She pulls her gaze up, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. "Macy got sued, and she needs someone to represent her."
And just the mention of Macy's name causes my skin to tingle even as my stomach bottoms out on me. "That's probably not a good idea," I say immediately. "You know it's not good business to represent friends and family members."
Mac's eyes light up, and she nods her head vigorously. Leaning forward toward my desk, she says, "That's just it. I agree with you, which is totally why I can't represent her, but you're not her friend or her family member. You can totally do it."
"Wait. What?" I say quickly. "No, I can't represent her."
"Why not, Cal?" Mac asks beseechingly
. "You don't have any personal ties to her."
I fucked her in the kitchen pantry, and she sucked my cock after. I totally have personal ties to her.
Before I can even try to come up with an excuse, Mac rolls on. "And besides... this lawsuit needs someone like you defending her."
I can't fucking help myself. "What's the suit about?"
"It's an alienation-of-affection suit," she says, her eyes actually twinkling.
Well, shit. That is right up my alley. I actually helped a buddy of mine from law school defend one down in North Carolina last year, and I totally shredded the other side. It's a fascinating type of case. It's a law that allows a spouse to sue another person who breaks up a marriage. It usually occurs when one spouse has an affair, and the jilted spouse will sue the man or woman who their spouse was seeing. Crazy-ass law, but a lot of people take advantage of it. Especially when the person being sued is rich, as Macy Carrington is.
"Where's the suit filed?" I ask her, because New York abolished these types of claims and only seven states allow them.
"Utah," she says.
"Macy went to Utah?" I ask stupidly, and even mentally kick myself again that I'm asking details about the case.
Mac shakes her head. "No. Apparently, it was a businessman from Utah that flew to New York several times a year, and Macy met him through One Night Only."
Fuck. A million questions spring to mind. If Macy only does single nights with men, how in the hell did she bust up a marriage? And how in the hell did the wife in Utah find out? And I wonder if she fucked this guy as good as she fucked me?
Christ, why in the hell am I even wondering that?
Shaking my head adamantly, I even hold my hands up defensively in front of me. "No way, Mac. I can't do it."
Nope. Can't do it. I cannot be in close proximity to Macy. I can't deal with her on a case. I can't even be in the same room with her without wanting to--