“Let’s get back to the hot, rich, arrogant guy you met today,” she said. “He sounds awful. Any chance he wants to make a donation for your sister?”
Greer and her husband were currently picking a sperm donor after five years of trying to get pregnant. At thirty-nine, she was almost ten years older than me and starting to feel the squeeze of Mother Nature. They’d done four rounds of IVF with Ben’s sperm, because his little guys had motility issues. But they still had no luck. Recently they’d given up and decided to go the donor route.
“Pretty sure you have a better shot at getting his sperm than I do of getting his job.”
“What happened? Not the right experience fit again?”
I sighed and nodded. “Honestly, it’s my own fault. I never should’ve taken the job with Christian’s family’s pharmaceutical company. It’s a very specific industry, and people are pretty distrusting of drug trials these days, so it casts a weird light to have been involved with them. Plus, it was dumb to intertwine my entire life with a man.”
My sister patted my hand. “Keep your chin up. Next week is your interview at Kitty’s grandson’s company, right? Maybe that’ll work out.”
“Uh, the arrogant jerk I just told you about? He is Kitty’s grandson.”
Our grandmother and Kitty Harrington had been best friends for nearly thirty years. They’d lived next door to each other down in Georgia until my Nanna died four years ago. When I’d decided to do my PhD at Emory in Atlanta, I’d moved in with Nanna and gotten to know Kitty pretty well. When Nanna died after a short battle with cancer during my last year of school, Kitty and I helped each other through it, and we’d been close ever since. It didn’t matter that there were nearly fifty years between us. I considered her a good friend. Even after I moved back to New York for my internship, we never lost touch. I went down to visit her at least once a year, and we talked on the phone almost every Sunday.
Greer’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. I thought that interview was next week. I can’t believe Kitty’s grandson would be such a jerk to you, knowing how close the two of you are.”
I sipped my wine and shook my head. “You know, Kitty never came up. He wasn’t the kind of guy to waste time with small talk. But I realized after I left the office, it’s possible he didn’t know who I was. You’d think he’d at least mention it, right?”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
I shrugged. “It was a crazy day. I actually ran into him at a store a few doors down before the interview, and we had…a little incident. The whole thing threw me off, and then he gave me a hard time, questioning whether I was qualified. I get that I might not be the best candidate, but why did he invite me to the interview if he didn’t think I had the basic qualifications?”
“I’m really surprised. Kitty’s such a sweet lady.”
“She is. But she’s also got a mischievous side. I could never tell when she was kidding because of her smirk.” I shook my head. “I realized they have that in common—an unreadable smirk.”
“Are you going to tell her he was a jerk to you?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want her to feel bad. Plus, she always lights up when she speaks about him.”
“Well…” My sister squeezed my hand. “Everything happens for a reason. I bet there’s something bigger and better waiting for you. And even if it takes a while to find it, you don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay with us as long as you want.”
I knew she meant it, and I had enjoyed spending time with my sister and her husband since I’d moved in, but I was looking forward to getting settled into my own place.
“Thank you.”
Later that night, as I lay in bed unable to fall asleep, I tossed and turned, like I’d done most nights since my life had been turned upside down. In one day, I’d lost a fiancé, a best friend, a job, and my apartment. On top of it all, my wedding speech—where I’d called Christian and Mia out for their affair—had gone viral. As did the video I showed of them having sex in the bridal suite the night before my wedding. Last count, the “crazy bride’s best friend and groom porn video” had more than a billion views—that’s B for billion, not M for million. Mainstream news had even picked up the story, and it had taken more than a month for the interest on the Internet to die a slow and painful death. Then, just when I thought it was okay to breathe again, Christian and his family had filed a lawsuit against me for fraud and misappropriation of funds, claiming I’d had them pay for an elaborate wedding to get even for something I knew about all along. As if being served with that ridiculousness hadn’t been bad enough, when the news got wind of it, the craziness started up again. Paparazzi had even parked outside my sister’s apartment building for a few days. What is this world coming to when you can’t even blow up your own wedding without a billion people getting involved?