I perch on the side of the bed when it抯 time for me to head to the airport. 揑 left a key on the counter so you can lock up,?I tell him. I guess that抯 a step, too, giving him a key. Doing it this way makes it feel like less of a big deal. 揑抦 not sure when I抦 getting back, so maybe I抣l just plan to see you tomorrow? Hopefully there will be something to celebrate.?
揙h.?He blinks up at me, still half asleep. 揕et抯 do it Sunday. I抳e got a family thing tomorrow night.?
I freeze. 揧ou抮e seeing your family Saturday night??
揧eah.?He isn抰 quite meeting my eye. 揟he pains of being a local.?
Is he lying to me?
How could he not be? That reservation at Ardor was not for us, and the romance package for two sure as hell isn抰 a family thing. The brunches he didn抰 invite me to, the friends I didn抰 meet, the house he never wanted me to see厀ere those lies too?
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so stupid again?
I rise, holding myself stiffly, as if my bones will crack with any sudden movement.
揙kay,?I tell him. I can抰 help the iciness in my voice, and why the fuck should I help the iciness in my voice? 揇on抰 forget to lock up.?
He nods. 揑抣l catch up with you later.?
揥e抣l see,?I reply. Which is easier than telling him this is done, but it definitely is.
It hurts in ways I never expected it to.
I抦 tempted to storm dramatically into Ardor tomorrow night, but what could I even complain about? We aren抰 official, at my insistence.
I barely notice the ride to the airport. Keeley calls while I抦 waiting for my flight. 揅onvince me a five-thousand-dollar purse is a good investment,?she says.
揥ell, Birkin bags hold their value,?I reply listlessly.
It抯 the best I can do. Keeley wastes too much money on garbage. She抯 never going to be able to retire with the way she spends.
揧our heart really is not into helping me blow five grand on stupid shit the way it normally is.?
揗y heart is never into that, Keels,?I say quietly, resting my face in my free hand. 揑 worry about you.?
揥hat抯 wrong with you today??
I hold a hand to my throat. It抯 hard to get the words out. 揟hat reservation I told you about??I whisper. 揑t wasn抰 for me. He told me he has a family thing tomorrow night.?
揊or two? That fucking asshole,?she hisses.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry, because it isn抰 what I抎 hoped she抎 say.
I wanted her to tell me things might be different than they appear. I wanted her to craft an entirely plausible explanation for that reservation, for the lie.
I抦 as bad as my clients, the ones who believed their cheating husbands?ridiculous excuses for not coming home, who rationalized a sudden desire to get in shape and the way he started walking outside to make phone calls.
揑抦 sorry,?she says. 揑 thought he was different.?
Yeah. I did too.
I arrive in Seattle and take the ferry out to Bainbridge Island where Lauren now lives. She has a pretty sweet gig, working from home for a tech firm. The sun comes out as we approach the harbor and I picture moving here too. Putting LA behind me, giving up on everything. I doubt working with Ben will even be possible after this梚t抯 gone too far for me to detach as if it never happened.
Except if I抦 going to give up on everything, I should probably just work for my dad. I抦 not going to be happy either way, but at least my mom would come out ahead.
I meet Lauren at a caf?in town, and we manage to get a table outside in the winter sun. She抯 small and blond like Keeley but orders herself a green juice and a vegan quiche, which Keeley could not be paid to eat.
揑 can抰 believe you flew all the way up here,?she says. 揘o offense, but you look like you need some sleep.?
I try to force a smile and find, to my horror, that I抦 on the cusp of tears. 揙h, God,?I whisper. 揝orry.?
I reach for the napkin that came with my lunch and press it to my eyes. I抳e never once, in my entire life, cried in front of a client or a potential witness.
揑抦 so sorry,?she says, blinking in surprise. 揧ou抮e gorgeous, obviously. I just meant you look tired.?
I give a small, strangled laugh, which sounds like a sob too. As if I抎 cry because someone said I look tired桰抳e probably looked tired for the past fifteen years straight. 揑t抯 not that. My boyfriend is seeing someone else.?
I have no idea why I抳e told her this, or why I抦 suddenly calling him my boyfriend. It抯 the most unprofessional moment of my life.
She leans forward. There抯 nothing like a cheating story to make women unite. 揊ucking men,?she groans. 揟hey抮e all the same. I dated a guy who claimed he was picking up overtime because he was saving money for a house, and then I ran into him at a restaurant with his wife and kids.?