He tossed his glass in the trash, where it shattered audibly. “Be thankful that you were the other woman rather than the wife who gets cheated on. Because if you get married, that’s exactly what you’ll be.”
8
Sicily
I didn’t want to waste any time mourning the loss of a man I didn’t even know in the first place, but it felt odd to immediately jump back into the dating pool, especially when I wasn’t really into it. Living in Manhattan gave me access to a lot of single guys my age, and while they were interesting professionals, they were mostly douchebags. They were superficial, arrogant, conceited. Vince was the first real connection I’d made with someone, but did that really count when I didn’t know him at all?
When I didn’t know he had a wife and two sons?
I wasn’t in a hurry to settle down and pop out a couple kids, but having that lifestyle was my dream. I wanted to fall in love with a good man and grow our family. I wanted my belly to get bigger with the life we created together. He had that…and didn’t want it? There was nothing more childish than someone who took everything they had for granted.
Ugh, I hated him.
But I really didn’t feel like dating again. It wasn’t fair to them.
It wasn’t fair to me.
I decided to be alone for a while, just focus on work, and spend my evenings enjoying the new wine club I signed up for. They sent you three bottles every single week. With my higher salary, I decided to splurge a little.
On Monday, I went to work in the morning, and I noticed Cleo’s husband walk through the door that the doormen held open for him. He gave a quick greeting, wearing his sweater and jeans, and headed to the private car waiting for him. He had a naturally brooding expression, and it was surprising that someone so cold could be with a woman so warm. But when I did see him interact with her directly, he seemed to be a whole different person.
I walked inside and headed to the office. Everyone was gathered in the rear conference room, going over assignments for the morning and the rest of the week. Cleo used the whiteboard to make notes, to outline what was a priority and everything else that was important but not paramount.
We’d just hosted a party full of politicians, but it was like it had never happened now. We were on to the next thing.
Once the meeting was concluded, we returned to our desks.
Dex walked over to his desk and grabbed his device that was sitting there. He opened it and scrolled through his work app, checking his notes for his assignments that were uploaded in real time. He was still a little cold, like his outburst on Friday evening still ate at him.
I came to his side. “Have plans for the holidays?”
As if he didn’t realize I’d been there for a while, he quickly turned his head. There was a slight look of annoyance, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with me. It quickly passed, and he gave me his charming smile, only half-mast. “Just eating and sleeping. Then eating again…and going back to sleep.”
“Wow, that sounds nice.”
“What about you?”
“My parents live in Connecticut, so I’ll head out there for a couple days.” I’d gushed about Vince to my mom, and now I’d have to tell her she would never meet him. I wasn’t sure if I would tell her about the married part because that was just humiliating.
“Will you be eating and sleeping…and eating and sleeping?”
“Yeah, my dad and I usually take a nap on the couch while Mom does the cleaning.”
“Niiiiice.” He gave me a thumbs-up. When he turned away, his expression totally changed. “Oh no. We’ve got the Big Bitch incoming.”
“Big Bitch?” I looked up to see a man in a suit approaching us. He was average size and height, so I didn’t know where the “big” label came from. But he did look pretty angry. He came to the desk and practically huffed and puffed.
“Good morning, Mr. Taylor.” Dex acted like Big Bitch was nothing but pleasant. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” He literally raised his hand and held it up to Dex, as if to cover him so he wouldn’t have to look at him. “You.” He stared me down, vicious. “You’re the new punk, right?”
Punk? Did this guy just call me a punk? “Yes, my name is Sicily.” I would normally respond to hostility with my own hostility, but that wasn’t my job. I was supposed to serve clients and de-escalate tense situations. But I might not have said anything even if I could because I was so surprised. Every interaction I’d had in this building had been positive, with my colleagues as well as the clients. Cleo mentioned there were a few assholes—and I guess he was one of them.