Maid for Each Other(79)

“Don’t feel bad for her, just help me find her,” I said, gesturing to Carol that I was ready for the check.

“Didn’t you just order another?” she barked from two tables over.

“Changed my mind and need the check.”

“Maybe go to Benny’s,” Roman suggested.

“It’s already poured—I’m gonna have to charge you, hun,” Carol said.

“Fine,” I said, distracted, then said to Roman, “She only works three days a week, and I don’t want to be the creepy guy who shows up at her job.”

“Why not? It works in the movies.”

“Yeah, it also works in real life for women with stalker exes who show up at their places of employment. I don’t want to put her in that situation.”

“It’s already been poured,” Carol said again from where she was leaning on the bar, probably shit-talking me to the bartender. “Sure you don’t want it?”

“Just the check, please,” I bit out.

“Okay, so then what do you do?” Roman asked.

“Does your friend want it?” Carol yelled.

“I don’t give a shit about that beer,” I yelled back, needing the world to shut the hell up so I could think.

But the entire bar shut up then, as it seemed every eye in the place was on me.

Looking at me like the asshole I truly was.

“Sorry, Carol,” Roman yelled, pointing at me. “This one’s in love and losing it. Please forgive him.”

That made her laugh, and the killer glares from around the restaurant softened just a bit. I was grateful for my idiotic friend’s quick thinking.

“So,” Roman said, grinning like he was having the very best time. “I think I have a plan.”

43

There He Is

Abi

I knew it had to happen sometime.

Still, it felt like a gut punch when I checked the schedule and saw I had to clean Declan’s apartment that night. He must be in New York, I thought, which I couldn’t let myself think about because even though I was healing, anytime I thought of our trip, or pictured his beautiful SoHo apartment, it was impossible to keep the emotions at bay.

I hadn’t heard a word from Declan.

Not. A. Word.

Because I’d blocked his number.

I knew hearing from him wouldn’t be great for me.

Because as I wrote the Daphne story, filling in all the gritty details that made it work, I realized I needed to be stronger. Daphne had been susceptible to the charms of Connor and his family because she was weak and lonely. She let them in because she’d been hungry for love and attention.

And I suspected I’d been the same way.

But Daphne’s ultimate failure had been her inability to learn once things started changing; she’d been incapable of even considering that Connor and his family weren’t worthy of her trust.

The brief dalliance with Declan had weakened me momentarily, like Daphne, because before him, I didn’t have delusions of romance or daydream about love.

That was something my mother did.

I was more of a work-my-ass-off-and-make-things-happen person. I was working two jobs and going to school because I was going to be a college professor, own my own home, and depend on myself for the things I wanted.

I’d seen my mom spend her entire life being reactive, moving about the world in hopes of something—or someone—giving her the things she wanted, and that was bullshit.

But I’d become a version of her—and Daphne—when I was with Dex, daydreaming and begging for heart crumbs, and that was unacceptable.

I mean, I’d almost walked away from a great story idea because I’d lost the ability to disseminate truth from fiction. Somehow, Daphne’s story had felt a lot like mine, so much so that I couldn’t think about it without crying because it’d made me feel empty inside.

The brief Declan chapter in my life had been self-indulgent, where I’d allowed myself to absorb him into every empty hole and crack in my life, taking them and expanding them but filling them more in turn so that after him—when his existence in my life quickly disappeared—my aloneness felt more amplified than it ever had before, and the holes left larger and empty once again.

So now I was trying to remember how to get back to the old me.

Which was why I hated that I had to clean his apartment that night; no way would that not set me back a few steps.

Before we met, I’d been able to enjoy how gorgeous his place was when I cleaned it. I’d imagine what it’d be like to live there, but when I thought of the person who actually lived there, this stranger I didn’t know, I mocked the idea of him.

The idea of somebody who was never there but spent a fortune on a gorgeous condo.

It had to be someone with zero respect for money and all the wrong values, right?

And now I knew that was absolutely true.

I was filled with dread as I took the service elevator up to his floor. I knew his place was going to look different to me now than it had before. I was going to remember making food in the kitchen, watching TV with him, dropping my raincoat and having him tell me I was stunning.

It was like my movie had been filmed in that apartment, my favorite rom-com in the entire world that I’d rewatched a hundred times.

But now it was over, those characters weren’t real, and the apartment was just another set. Abi and Dex were people who’d been playing their parts and now they’d moved on to their next show, leaving this set vacant and ready for whatever the next act was going to be.