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Sloane
“So, where’s the spicy Italian sausage?” Jules sidles up behind me, poking me in the side while I’m standing at one of the buffet tables at The Essex House, the venue for this year’s hospital benefit.
I shake my head, unable to open my mouth for fear of what might come out. I don’t want to think about Max. I don’t want to hear his name. Hell, I don’t even want to see his name, which is why I clicked off my phone right after he blew me off for the third and final time. I don’t need to be reminded that I’ve allowed myself to be kicked to the curb yet again by that jerkoff. And I certainly don’t want to see any of his lame-ass excuses flash on my screen.
I may even change my phone number tomorrow. Screw him.
Jules puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “Are you telling me The Godfather pulled another disappearing act? Oh, he’s definitely gonna sleep with the fishes tonight once I get my hands on him.”
Tears pool in my eyes, despite the smile lifting the corners of my mouth. I blink fast to keep them in check. Shaye wouldn’t be happy if I turned her makeup masterpiece into a mess of colored streaks and puddles.
Not happening! I look fantastic. He’s not worthy of my tears. Or my heart, for that matter.
I’ve cried plenty over him in the past. I refuse to waste any more.
Jules positions herself in front of me and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Tell me what happened. Give me an excuse to pull a Lorena Bobbitt and I’ll take a machete to his junk.”
I snicker. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll be fine. He’s over.”
Jules narrows her eyes. “I know my way around an operating room. I know how to set up an IV. I know how to puncture a vein. I have a very unique set of skills…skills that make me very dangerous to people like him.”
“Thanks, Liam Neeson. I’ll take all of that into consideration.” I sniffle and smooth the front of my dress. My toes are almost numb at this point because of the shoes Shaye insisted I wear.
I wish I could say the same thing about my heart.
Dad walks over with two Coca-Colas and smiles at Jules. “Here you go, girls.”
Jules throws her arms around my dad’s neck and gives him a big kiss on the cheek. “Papa C, so great to see you out and looking so sharp!”
Dad clears his throat and adjusts his tie, a pink flush creeping into his cheeks. “Thank you, Jules. You look lovely.”
She does a little curtsy and holds up her glass. I’m sure she would have preferred something much more alcoholic but my dad is a gentleman and never would have left her empty-handed. And she’s respectful…at least enough to take whatever he offered.
Besides, knowing her she’s already been pre-gaming for the past couple of hours.
While watching Taken for the fiftieth time.
“I’m so excited to see our girl up at that podium tonight!”
“At least someone’s here to support her,” Dad mumbles under his breath.
“Daddy!” I hiss. “Please. I told you, it’s done. Okay?”
“You said that last time, too. Remember?”
Jules looks between me and Dad and claps her hands. “Oh, I love this song! Papa C, come and dance with me, okay? Tell me all about your, um, accounting clients. It’s almost tax season! That’s exciting, right?”
Dad rolls his eyes at me as she tugs him toward the dance floor, and I bite my lower lip to keep from laughing despite the heaviness in my gut and the ache in my soul.
I thought the void had finally been filled. I’d wished and prayed for so long that I’d finally feel whole again, and just when I really thought maybe I could have it all, my hopes for the future were yanked away.
Yet again.
Third time’s the charm?
Nope.
More like, three strikes and you’re out.
