Fat Cat Liar

I stop in front of a display of new arrivals and run my hand over a vintage black pill hat with a shoulder-length veil. Something inside me stirs, and my throat starts to close. I don’t notice the chatter has stopped until both my friends are at my side.

“That’s very… umm… Well, it’s…” Bessie rambles.

“Depressing. That’s what it is. Depressing. What exactly is this?” Jenny finishes for her.

“It’s beautiful, distinguished, and devastating at the same time. This is a somewhat modern-day version of what Jackie O wore to JFK’s funeral,” I reply faintly.

They suck in a breath, and without actually seeing them, I know they are staring at me in disbelief.

“Greer, honey, why are you looking at funeral attire?” Bessie asks gently.

“I’m not, it just caught my attention.” I shrug, turning to the handbag section.

“Maybe we should delay shopping for another time, when you are more in the mood.”

“Fuck that, it’s been almost a month and she hasn’t improved. It’s time for a different approach.” There’s a new level of disgust in Jenny’s voice. “He chased you out of your apartment, and you moved in with your dad, deciding to work out of the penthouse until things calmed down. You uprooted your whole life because of him. I saw a glimpse of you returning, and I thought we were turning a corner. Then BAM! That ass-tool shows up and rips the wounds open again. I’m glad he got his ass beat by Stan. The only thing that would make it better is if I’d been here to see it.”

Bessie gasps, and my heart lurches at the memory. It didn’t take long for them to find out what happened with Lawson in my office, because Haley called them to help calm me down. Through hours of crying to the point of exhaustion, I made them vow to never mention it again. Unfortunately, by that time the guys knew, and I had to relive the story once more.

After that, everyone agreed to drop it.

We may have vowed to never discuss the scene again, but it replays in my mind all hours of the day. If I let my mind travel to the moment he wrapped his arms around me, I can still feel every single emotion.

His warmth, the scent of his cologne and all that makes him, the safety of his embrace, the softness of his beard against my fingertips... It all swirls around, expanding the gaping hole in my heart with so much sadness I want to curl into a ball and hide from the outside world.

There is no more anger. The anger vanished almost immediately that night in my apartment.

There was a period of resentment, a sense of betrayal, and an undeniable awareness of deceit. I tried to hang on to those emotions, willing myself to find the anger again. But it never came. Instead, each of those was erased with his voice in my head that kept repeating, ‘I love you’.

I know it makes me weak, but no matter how hard I try to hate him, it’s useless. My heart won’t let him go.

“I’m sorry, Greer. That was extremely insensitive of me.” Jenny steps into my line of sight, dragging me out of my head.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry my mood is ruining our afternoon.”

“You’re allowed to be sad, Greer, but please talk to us,” Bessie gently urges.

“I have an idea. Since we didn’t go out for drinks last weekend, let’s ditch the shopping for today and head to the bar. My treat. I’ve been craving a dry gin martini with those scrumptious blue cheese stuffed olives for a while.”

At Jenny’s suggestion, my mouth starts to water, but not in a good way. I dash through the section, making a beeline for the offices. As soon as I flash my keycard and get into my bathroom, I’m sick, violently throwing up the small amount of lunch I was able to eat.

This is not the first time this has happened. The days after I left Lawson, I could barely eat or hold anything down from pure emotional devastation. Then it got a little better. Now, I know it won’t get better.

Because, now, I know the reason.

&n

bsp; I heave myself up and wet a cloth to blot at my face, swishing water in my mouth to rid the taste. As expected, when I open the door, Jenny and Bessie are waiting, both with anguished expressions.

“The condom didn’t work,” Jenny whispers knowingly.

“The condom worked, until there was no more condom,” I admit solemnly.

“How long have you known?” Bessie asks softly.

“Since last Thursday night after I couldn’t hold down Thanksgiving dinner. I suspected the week after I left Lawson, but I was too scared to admit it. However, it’s becoming hard to ignore, especially after the seven pregnancy tests confirmed it.”

“How far along?”