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I should’ve been more careful about what I wished for because once I walked away from Spencer, he didn’t chase after me. If he had, it would’ve only pushed me farther away anyway.
Even though I wasn’t convinced that he was over me, I was acutely aware that I’d fucked this up in a major way—possibly permanently. If that were the case, I wasn’t sure how to find my way back from that.
There was a reason why I hadn’t been in a relationship in more than fifteen years; they were messy and not in the way that I liked. Most of the time, they involved the emotional messes that I actively avoided. That was why I swore I’d be single and happy for the rest of my life. Spencer was right about London; it was nice. It was comfortable, and it was a fantasy. But then, reality hit when my brother showed up on the steps of the office, a brutal reminder of my regular life. It wasn’t Romeo and Juliet, and it sure as fuck wasn’t wearing half-a-million-dollar diamond wedding rings and playing house like Barbie and Ken. I wasn’t programmed to do this shit, and so I had no idea how to navigate through any of it.
All I knew to do was guard myself and avoid, handling shit alone without being accountable to anyone or anything. It’s where I was safe and comfortable, even if I felt a bit miserable without Spencer, when fleeting thoughts of him washed over me.
After my bath, I grabbed my laptop and pulled up my real estate software, falling into the coping mechanism I’d started fostering as a teenager when my favorite pastime had been looking at the top real estate in Los Angeles.
I’d fantasized about buying a house that Shane and I could run away to, where our dad would have no say about what we did and with whom.
Of course, the home I’d fantasized about was still years away when Shane could admit to the kind of help he needed and, even more importantly, that he would be willing to accept it from me.
Just knowing that I continually tried to escape my father by searching for real estate told me the man still had control over my mental well-being, and it pissed me the fuck off. Even so, I continued to peruse palatial home listings while drinking a glass of expensive wine, hoping to quiet my mind.
After a second glass of wine, I climbed into bed and finally managed to fall asleep, somehow knowing that this night wouldn’t be restful.
I was right.
As thrilled as I’d been to be back on my custom mattress in my eight-hundred thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, I’d consistently woken up in the middle of the night, feeling like something was missing.
Well, not something. I couldn’t get away with playing dumb when I knew exactly what I was missing, which was hilarious, considering how I’d always had so much trouble sleeping next to other people. Spending the night in bed with someone had always been something I’d seen as a side effect of hooking up with them, particularly if I wanted morning sex, which I usually did.
With Spencer, though, I never felt overwhelmed by his presence or by having his arms find their way around my waist while we slept. Yet, these days, my actions proved the opposite of how I truly felt about Spencer.
What am I doing to my life? Why am I sabotaging myself?
I curled into myself, trying to conjure that feeling of safety I’d always been able to create for myself since moving into my lovely condo.
And somehow, the bed felt too big, too cold, and too empty. I couldn’t access that feeling of security I’d always been able to tap into. It had drifted away, leaving me lost and lonely for the first time in my life.
More accurately, I’d chased it away, and even though I’d always been resourceful and could figure out my way around a problem, I couldn’t seem to wrangle this particular one.
My usual problem-solving abilities seemed to have abandoned me, as I’d finally been presented with a problem that I never believed I’d be in a position to solve: How to win back a guy I’d cold-heartedly driven away.
Jesus, is this even my life?
I had no idea where I’d start tackling this problem, but I needed to solve it soon. Unfortunately, I had no fucking clue how to proceed, and when I didn’t know how to proceed, the only thing for me to do was to dive into work, which was what I spent the next few days doing.
It was now Monday, four days since I’d pissed Spencer off for the last time, and I was trying not to focus on him or that night. I’d scheduled several meetings with our company’s legal team to start rolling out the contracts to finalize the London deal—the one I’d been working on tirelessly for the last few weeks between falling in love, against my better judgment.
Finally—finally—we received the signed contracts back, but I was barely aware of it. I was busy looking over the appraisal report for one of the newest properties I had in escrow when Adam, my boss, sent me a text asking me to come into his office.
When I walked in, Adam was standing there with a bottle of champagne, which he popped as soon as I closed the door behind me. I couldn’t help the slight shriek of surprise that escaped me as the cork came off with a loud pop. It was almost like it woke me up and out of this zombie state I’d fallen into.
“Holy shit,” I laughed more at my reaction than the fact we were celebrating with booze at eleven in the morning.
“This is for our number one real estate agent this year, both commercial and residential,” he said with a wide grin as he filled two flutes. “Come on, let’s toast your success and the beginning of many huge signing bonuses to come.”
I couldn’t deny that I was a bit shell-shocked as he stepped forward and handed me the glass.
“Did they—”
“Julie and the other gallery owners returned the signed contracts this morning. I’m surprised you didn’t see them,” he said.
I was slightly dazed as I lifted my glass to my boss’s, accepting his salute and the praise for all the work I’d done on that crazy, turbulent trip that’d stirred up more than I expected.
“Now, all that is left for you to decide is whether you want your payout in one check or divided and added to each of your paychecks.”
