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So instead, I lean forward like I’m about to tell her the best secret of her life and whisper seductively, “What happens on the road, stays on the road, darlin’.”
Her lips part and her breath quickens—just the reaction I was going for. I sit back in my chair, and it takes her a moment before she returns to her own upright position, her eyes still a little distant like she’s imagining a lot of naughty things that might happen on the road.
She’s probably not too far off from the truth.
She clears her throat again, clearly trying to regain her composure, but her husky voice gives her away when she speaks. “I’ve got just a few more questions, and then we’ll move to your photoshoot.”
My body already feels exhausted from having to maintain this persona and pretend like I’m into this whole interview, but this is what I signed up for.
If only someone had told me to read the fine print of becoming famous.
2
The room erupts in applause as I stare in dismal shock. Everything feels like a blur as I watch Brad—the man I dated for nearly a year and thought I was going to marry—hold up Shelly’s left hand for the whole room. Nearly everyone who works for VibeTV, the streaming service that’s said to be the next Netflix, is present in the massive auditorium that the company uses to preview final cuts of upcoming releases and for big staff announcements. Today the announcement seems to be that Brad has ripped my heart out—the evidence being the insanely oversized rock of a diamond engagement ring sitting on Shelly’s left hand.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
But I can’t look away. It’s my own personal train wreck. I’m fighting back the urge to cover my face with my hands and peek between my fingers so I can still see what’s going on, but I’m in such shock I can’t move. My arms rest heavily against my side, my feet are glued to the floor, and my heart feels like it either fell like a stone into my stomach or disintegrated entirely—I can’t quite tell.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He said he wanted some time apart to figure himself out. He told me he loved me but he wasn’t the marrying kind.
And I’m the fool who fell for it. When will I ever learn that men are apparently nothing but liars?
He smiles down at Shelly and winks at her—fucking winks at her! I’m the one he used to wink at. He used to save all those sultry, happy smiles for me. What the fuck is even happening? My utter heartbreak and betrayal quickly morph into anger. I can’t believe he didn’t even have the decency to give me a heads-up. Everyone knows that we were together for nine months. He’s only been with Shelly for like two fricking seconds!
Okay, so it’s been a month, but still. What the actual fuck? I knew I never should’ve caved. I had rules against dating guys I worked with for a reason, but Brad was so convincing. He spent months pursuing me relentlessly before I even agreed to go out with him, making me feel special and telling me over and over again that he really felt like we were kindred spirits meant to be together.
What a load of horseshit.
I can feel my emotions rollercoastering around my body—one minute furious, the next devastated. Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to cry in front of my coworkers. I’m not that girl. Hell, I rarely cry at all.
I watch Brad and Shelly smile at everyone in our office. Shelly’s curly blonde hair and saccharine grin make me want to scream and rage, but instead I continue to stand here, watching, waiting for someone to tell me this is some big cosmic joke.
This is not happening.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I’m suddenly grateful I never told my brother about Brad because I’m certain he’d kill him if he knew. Will has always been protective of me. We’re only eleven months apart in age, and after our dad left when I was four, he took over the job of protecting me, our older sister, Lainey, and younger sister, Elise. In the past few years, I’ve grown more hesitant about letting the guys I date meet my brother, partly because he can be so overprotective, but also because the guys I’ve dated have been one giant disappointment after another.
By the time I was ready to introduce Brad to Will, things had started to feel off. Brad was pulling away and working more and more, and then suddenly he was saying he needed a little break to get his head sorted. Clearly he sorted his head right up Shelly’s ass.
As people around me move closer toward the happy couple—barf—I feel my body finally loosen up and quickly hightail it out of there. No way will I be congratulating them.
Not today.
I’ll be a bigger person later, but today I’m going to be small and miserable. Pushing past the dozens of coworkers swarming around trying to congratulate Brad and Shelly, I manage to make it outside our office building in Santa Monica barely holding onto my sanity. How the fuck could Brad blindside me like this? If he had no intention of us ever getting back together, why has he been stringing me along since he broke up with me two months ago?
My heart aches at the idea that he was laughing at me behind my back—like I was some joke.Oh, look at how I can keep the foolish woman on my line like a fish with bait.Every warning sign and red flag comes flashing back to me as I replay the nine months we were together and the six months before that when he was wooing me. He pursued me with a tenacity that I’d never experienced from a man before.
After a while it became impossible to resist. And while I’m not a fan of becoming office gossip, it was hard to keep an office romance like ours a secret after how open he’d been in his pursuit of me. And it was refreshing to be with a guy so put-together after dating a bunch of losers who would always conveniently “forget” their wallets when we were out to dinner. Or who found ways to undermine my intelligence in nearly microscopic ways that left me feeling small and insignificant by the time they were finished with me.
I hang my head in shame because it has become painfully obvious that Brad is really no different than any of those guys. I was played. It’s that simple. Once again a man has let me down. Story of my fucking life. It started with my deadbeat dad peacing out when I was four and has been a recurring theme in my life. What is it about me that makes men treat me like I’m disposable?
Needing more time before I go back to the office, I decide to take an impromptu walk to the promenade. It won’t be busy this time of day, and it’s away from the disgustingly happy couple so that’s what counts.
I’m lost in my thoughts, remembering all the tender caresses and the hundreds of times Brad told me if he was the marrying kind, I would be the woman he would choose. I shake my head in frustration, the tears officially falling down my face now, which only angers me more. Even if I know it’s stupid to cry over him, I can’t fight the hurt. Why am I never good enough? Why won’t anyone ever stay for me? Fight for me? Tears cascade faster down my face, and I start to notice people gawking at me as they walk past.
Wonderful. Now I’m the sad, pathetic woman who is crying on a sidewalk in public.
