Oh, now I had him. “Since that first night,” I lied, inspired. “When I left with him. And every night since. We can’t keep our hands off each other. We’re in bed all the time. I have so many orgasms I can barely stand it.”
“So that’s it?” Josh said. “You just jumped into bed with some dirtbag? You think you’re that kind of girl?”
The hypocrisy of it—the absolute, utter hypocrisy of Josh disapproving of my fictional sex life after cheating on me—made me gape at him for a second. I always knew there was a double standard, but I’d never seen it this close. “What kind of girl do you mean?” I said. “Sexy? A girl who likes hot guys? A girl who picks her own sex partners? A girl with spark?”
“I hope you don’t think he’s marriage material,” Josh said. “Ask any of the girls he’s dumped. He’s the farthest thing from it. You’re fooling yourself, Evie.”
“I am not looking for marriage material!” I shouted. Dimly, I thought that everyone in the office could probably hear us. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Are you kidding?” Josh shot back. “It’s written all over you. I had to meet your mother the first week. We were practically picking out venues and rings. I had to go looking just so I could feel alive again. And the next day you meet Mason, and now you come to work dressed like a slut.”
That was when I threw the tea cup at him, and watched the hot water splash all over the wall.
Eleven
Evie
They sent me home. Take some personal time, my manager said. Take next week off. Rethink things, Evie, before you come back.
It was said like they cared, but I knew what it was—a warning. I was almost-fired. Get your shit together, or don’t come back. That was the message.
They didn’t send Josh home.
Tears burned behind my eyes. I swallowed them. I went home to my apartment, stripped my clothes off, and took a long, hot shower. Then I put on a cami and a pair of boxer shorts and crawled into bed. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and thinking.
You fucked it up, Evie. Again.
This was exactly like the first time I’d screwed up my life. The first two times, actually. The first was when I’d crashed and burned in high school, failing so many classes that I had to go to summer school my final two years to barely scrape by. The second time was when my mother had scrimped and saved to send me to college, and I’d promptly flunked out after two semesters. Yeah, that was my stellar past.
I had no college degree, no nothing. After the second flame-out, I’d worked a menial job in a bakery for three years, getting up at four a.m. to bake before the place opened at six. It didn’t matter that I actually liked baking—it wasn’t a career job. It was minimum wage and demeaning. Other people my age were doing things, traveling, getting degrees, finding partners, putting their lives together, and I’d just baked while striking out with boyfriend after boyfriend. Worse, I’d thrown my mother’s hard-earned money down the drain, and I’d probably disappointed my dad from the grave, too. If there was a poster girl for going nowhere fast, I was her.
The bank job had changed that. It had been my big break, when they took a chance on me. Nice people, regular hours, high heels, more money. Possible promotion, even. And then, once I started working there, I’d met Josh, and he’d changed it, too. A good job and a good boyfriend—the new, improved me thought I’d finally been on track.
Now I’d lost both. The boyfriend, for sure, and I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that if I still had my job, it wouldn’t be for long.
My expenses weren’t high, but my savings were meager, and if I was unemployed, they wouldn’t last long. I wouldn’t even be able to afford my shared apartment after a few months. Maybe I could clean up my act, go back to the bank, beg them for forgiveness. But then I’d be back to working with Josh every day.
Maybe I could swallow my pride, my self-worth, and do it. Maybe I should, even though I’d have to see Josh all the time. Maybe even with Gina. Would I see him with Gina?
They weren’t very discreet, Dar had said.
I frowned at the ceiling. That still didn’t sit quite right. I’d worked at the bank for months, and I’d never seen Gina there. How were Josh and Gina not very discreet?
Then, Josh. Don’t say anything at work. And his little freak out. Who told? What did they say?
I’d thought it strange that he was worried about our coworkers knowing about Gina, especially if he wasn’t discreet in the first place.
Unless… it wasn’t Gina he was worried about.
A dark, creeping suspicion made its way up my spine.
Still lying on my back, I picked up my phone and called Dar’s cell phone.
“Hey,” she said, her voice hushed. “Hold on.” I heard shuffling, then the familiar squeak of the women’s room door at the bank. Every woman who needed a private conversation, away from management, used that women’s room. “Okay,” Dar said, her tone more normal now. “Jeez, Evie, I heard what happened. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” I said, though I didn’t really think I was. “I just lost my temper, you know? It’s for the best that they sent me home for a few days. I don’t think I can work with Josh right now.”