Mr. President

That tears streamed down my face as I told him how I’d been working for Simon the entire time we’d been together.

That when Ethan and I went out to dinner, it was because Simon was paying me. That when Ethan was fucking me, it was because I was trying to get undercover. That when we fell in love, it was because it had been arranged to be so.

That the only reason his baby is inside of me and I haven’t told him is because he or she only came to life because I was running a con.

That the whole thing was designed to steal Ethan’s greatest creation.

How am I supposed to tell Simon that even after telling Ethan all this, and breaking down and confessing how now I’d gotten in way over my head—not knowing what to do. Whether to run and hide or stay and suffer.

That after all that, Ethan just handed the USB drive to me. Told me to take it. And never come back to work again.

I mean, how would you tell Simon?

Oh, wait. I just remembered who I’m talking to, hun. You would never have been in this situation in the first place right?

Because you would probably have never gotten into the limo. You would have probably never made the choices I did. Probably never have had to worry about trying to run away from a man like Robert McIntyre.

“Well?” Simon asks again, “How’d you get it?”

“Switched it after sex,” I lie shrugging. “He was asl

eep, didn’t notice.”

“Well they’re going to notice pretty soon,” Simon says.

“I’m not going back, so it’s no bother for me,” I tell him and turn around to walk out.

What? It’s true.

Ethan basically fired me. From his company. And I’m pretty sure from his life.

Have you ever been in a crowd of people but felt utterly and completely alone?

Well, hun, welcome to me right about now.

I mean, that overcast sky might as well just open up and start raining right about now as I walk down 7th Avenue because that’s my mood.

As if deciding to play a cruel joke on me, I hear something that seems like light rumbling as I approach 52nd Street and 7th Avenue, and the first bits of water start to fall on my head.

Great, now even Mother Nature is deciding to hate me.

The bits of rain quickly turn into a downpour as people scramble around me. The skies darken even farther as I approach Columbus Circle, the horses whinnying along Central Park South.

I’ll tell you one thing though, hun. It’s a good thing it's raining. Because the tears kind of get washed away when I see the giant billboard next to the Trump International Hotel & Tower advertising Illicit Escape.

Right there, holding the futuristic glasses, is my smiling face. The tag line, “Revolutionizing Pleasure” written in a sexy font.

I’m glad you can’t see my tears.

It's in these moments that the biggest city in the world becomes the loneliest place on earth.

But it’s nothing that I don’t deserve after everything I’ve just done.

***

The next week is basically like that day. Cold, sad, depressing, and rainy.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been like this. I mean, I had a chance to be happy. I had a chance to settle down with a man that truly, really loved me.