Executive Engagement - Page 33

I’m not a fucking wallflower. I’m going to call him and straighten this shit out.

As I sit down, the phone rings. I see the calls piling up as the little lights keep coming on and flickering at me.

I’m too busy to call him.

I love this work, and I throw myself into it, trying not to think about the growing worry inside that is making me frown at my beautiful roses.

13

Katrina

I thump my sorry ass down on the couch, wine in one hand, food in the other.

I get the cork off the bottle and take a swig.

Who the fuck even needs a glass?

I pull over the laptop and click on Bea.

I’m way too mad to just sit here or do some work. Too tired from the long day to work out.

The brown paper bag full of Thai food is giving off an amazing smell, and I decide to have a look through. I pull out some crispy rolls and start munching on them.

I didn’t realize I was so hungry.

I guess fucking my whole life up in an instant does that to a girl.

I have to admit, Will does have excellent taste in food.

Shitty taste in women, though.

At this point, myself included.

I decide then and there that I’m going to eat everything in this bag. I shove in another pile of noodles in my mouth.

Then, my screen lights up.

Video chat from Bea. I answer immediately.

“Hey sis, what’re you doin’?” Bea smiles widely across the screen.

“Ruining everything,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “And destroying like a billion calories worth of Thai food while I’m at it.”

It comes out too loud. Bea immediately takes a closer look at me.

“Babe, honey, what the fuck? You look like you just went ten rounds with an ostrich.”

“Bea, I seriously don’t want another run through of that time you were a zoo keeper.”

“The bitch has a bite tonight! What’s the trouble bubble?”

“Will,” I say. One word, and my eyes burn with tears. Fuck this. “Will is fucking trouble. I should’ve known it. I fucking should’ve seen it coming. But here I am, crying into my fucking wine.”

Bea chuckles. “Babe, you don’t know how to fucking cry. Remember that time—”

“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to wander off down memory lane tonight. I just want this to be over, Bea.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

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