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After grabbing a spoon from the drawer—and the mostly full bottle of white wine from the fridge without bothering with a glass—I plopped onto the couch and pulled a fuzzy blanket over my lap. Then I turned on the first streaming service app that popped up on the television and hunted for a movie that was guaranteed to make me cry. Scrolling down until I found P.S I Love You, I pressed play.
My phone rang while I was sobbing over the funeral early on in the movie. The missed call was followed up by a steady stream of text notifications. I ignored all the noise my phone was making and focused on eating my ice cream and drinking my wine while I waited for those brief moments when Lisa Kudrow’s character would somehow get a laugh out of me even though I was at my lowest point. The rest of the time, I sobbed my way through an entire box of tissues.
By the time the movie ended, I had five missed calls and twenty texts. They were all from Vaughn. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to deal with whatever bullshit he wanted to spin my way. I didn’t know if I ever would be, but I only had two days to wallow in my sorrow, and I was going to make the most of it—by myself. I put Bridget Jones' Diary on next as a reminder that I shouldn’t settle for a cheater or lying douchebag. Then I went for The First Wives Club for a little revenge inspiration as I thought up several ways to make Vaughn pay for hurting me like this.
I watched what felt like a million movies, ate two pints of ice cream, an entire large deep-dish pizza, and slept for maybe a grand total of six hours before I had to go back to the studio on Monday afternoon. I looked like death warmed over, my hormones were raging with my period due in two days, and I wanted nothing more than to pull my blanket back up over my head and pretend there wasn’t anyone else in the world until I figured out how I was going to get over my feelings for Vaughn. Which he was making damn difficult since he kept calling and texting. The jerk.
But the show must go on—literally, in this case—and I had to be there for it. Pulling up my big girl panties, I slathered a ton of concealer under my eyes and went to work, avoiding Mason as much as I could because I didn’t want to run the risk of him asking me any questions about Vaughn.
I was counting down the days until this project was over so I could go back home. I blamed Vaughn for turning what should’ve been the most exciting time of my life into one of the worst.22VaughnThe shit with the attorneys and James went on for three hours the following afternoon. At two grand per billable hour for each of the six lawyers, James’s urgent requests must’ve seemed like wet dreams to them. It infuriated me that Marcella’s lies were costing him time, money, and the ability to have his daughter in his house. Granted, that was temporary, but I knew him well enough to get that he wanted Mila with him.
Monitoring James and ensuring that he stayed calm was stressing me out. Worrying about some fucking psycho smashing up cars and sending threatening letters to Allie’s best friend was stressing me out. Trying to do everything I needed to at work to ensure everything was ready for the upfronts was stressing me out. But keeping everything from Allie was killing me. I was on edge, and it was only getting worse with each passing hour.
Talking to Allie on the phone was the highlight of each night. For that stretch of time, I was more content than I was at any other point in time during the day.
Something was off with her in our last call. Allie was always a straight shooter who had no problem speaking her mind. That hadn’t been the case while we were on the phone. Instead, she’d been tentative, almost as though she was anxious about something.
I was hoping she was going to tell me what was up, but that all went to shit when Mila called my name from the hallway. Putting the phone on mute, I called out that I was in the living room. I’d intended to tell her to wait a minute, but when she came into the room, white as a sheet and wringing her hands, I knew something was up. I had no choice to but make a quick excuse to Allie before hanging up.
Springing up from the sofa, I hurried toward where Mila was standing. “What’s going on?”
“I think something is wrong with James,” she answered. “He said he has a headache but he seems wobbly to me. I’ve asked a few times if he wants me to call anyone but he keeps insisting he’s fine.I don’t know what to do.”
