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At that Bianca lets out a little snort, “You can do so much better, Hollie. The man you love is an asshole who wouldn’t even listen to you. You’re going to be fine and someday you’ll run into Archer Clarke on the street on the way home from your high-paying executive job with your gorgeous husband and two point five beautiful children while he’ll be old and alone with only his billions to keep him company. We should feel sorry forhim,really.” She tips the bottle, emptying the last bit of wine straight into my glass, like the loyal friend she is.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I toss back the last mouthful of wine, though my mood hasn’t improved with the alcohol. “Can we watch something? I can’t talk about him anymore right now. But it has to have zero romance in it. None.”
After I change out of the dress that I swear to my friends I’m going to burn while secretly knowing I’ll keep it and hold it while I cry for years to come, we decide to go with Disney’s Inside Out. It has the no romance requirement plus the nostalgia factor of our youth built right in. Besides, I’m experiencing a deep affinity with both Sadness and Anger tonight.
I’m trying to concentrate on the movie and not my poor broken heart when Bianca calls Violet into the kitchen to help her with something, followed by a harried conversation whispered back and forth. What are they up to? I head into the kitchen and see them standing behind the island, both huddled over Bianca’s phone.
“What are you looking at?” I ask. They both jump about a foot in the air when they hear my voice. Did they think they were being stealthy?
My two best friends exchange a look that comes off as both pitying and pleading all at once. What the hell is going on?
“Just tell me already.”
Bianca tentatively holds her phone out to me so that I can grab it from her. Twitter is open, and a picture is pulled up showing Archer dressed to the nines and looking as attractive as ever. But the picture isn’t only of Archer. Julia Kellogg, his ex, is draped all over him, smiling straight into the camera. He’s wearing a black suit with a red tie that looks suspiciously like what he was wearing earlier.
“When is this from?” The question comes out in a shaky whisper. I already know the answer. I just need confirmation.
There’s silence in the kitchen until Violet takes pity on me. “It’s from tonight. You don’t know what’s going on in that picture, Holls. It could be anything. It was probably a photo op.”
“So, he dumped me, fired me, then stuck around to take photos with his ex?” His expression in the photo looks completely blank so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. If he’s upset about what happened moments before this picture was taken or if he wanted her on his arm, I can’t tell.
Who am I kidding? Archer Clarke doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. Including taking pictures with beautiful women he used to fuck.
Violet comes around the island and pulls me into a hug that I can’t bring myself to return. I can feel stinging in my eyes, but I won’t let myself cry. I’ve cried enough over him. It was one thing when I was crying because I lost the man I love. A man I thought deserved my love. At least I know now that he’s exactly the kind of man I always suspected he was.
I knew this was always going to be temporary; a man like Archer Clarke would never commit to one woman and settle down. Especially not a no name girl from the wrong side of the tracks. I’d seen it again and again. Hell, even my own father was that way. I told myself to protect my heart, that this would happen. But like an idiot, I let myself fall for him, anyway. He was able to discard me and then move right on to the next woman within the hour. That’s how much I meant to him.
I pull out of Violet’s arms and take a deep, calming breath.
“I’ll be fine, you guys. Thanks for telling me. I’d much rather know than walk around mooning over him like an idiot. I’m going to head to bed. Thanks for everything tonight.”
I can tell they want to talk more about the photo, but I don’t have it in me. I head to my bedroom and stretch out on my bed. Sure, I can’t hide from my problems, like the fact that I’m unemployed and my heart is currently laying in a thousand pieces in some empty museum hallway, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hide under my blankets and sleep for the next 10 hours. If only I had known it would be a scant few hours before my world was flipped on its head for the second time in the past twenty-four hours.
Twenty-Two
archer
After I left Hollie alone in that hallway, I made my way to the bar and took an immediate shot of bourbon, hoping it could dull some of the pain in my chest. I was surrounded by people trying to make small talk and journalists taking photos. I lasted another twenty minutes and if you asked me to recount them, you would be out of luck.
There was no way I could go home. The memory of her would be too strong there. God, was it only last night she was in my bed? I knew my sheets would still smell like her. That the towel she used to dry off her body after her morning shower was still hanging in my bathroom. I’ll have to call the cleaning service and have them send someone to de-Holliefy my house so that I can get my home back to normal. I snort to myself at the thought. Like going back to normal is even possible.
Instead, I head straight to The Clarke, and post up there for the night. Sitting out on the balcony of my reserved suite, I toss back drink after drink, letting the brown liquid burn down my throat, warming me from the inside out as I sit in the frigid night air.
I honestly can’t believe I fell for her bullshit. She had me wrapped so tightly around her finger I almost let the most important deal of my life slip through my fingers. Until Hollie came along, that had been the only thing that truly mattered to me. Then she walked into my office all young and innocent, smelling like summer. I thought as long as she was by my side, it didn’t matter. She understood me. Maybe I could someday recreate the happiness of my youth with her.
What bullshit.
The thing that’s really devastating is the fact I’m head over heels in love with her. It has to be love. Otherwise, it wouldn’t feel like my heart is bleeding out inside my chest cavity right now. When I thought I’d been falling in love with her, it had already been too late. I was utterly fucked.
I have to get my life back on track. A life that no longer involves Hollie Simmons or Shaw or whoever the fuck she is. I toss back another gulp of bourbon and set the glass aside so I can peel off my suit jacket. It must be fifty-five degrees out here at most, but I’m sweating bullets.
It’s 2 a.m. when I stagger my way back inside the suite and tear off the remains of my rumpled suit before crashing face first onto the California king bed. I know trying to sleep will be an exercise in futility, but I figure I might as well give it a go. It can’t possibly hurt as badly when I’m sleeping, can it?
By the time the sun is shining through the hotel windows, I haven’t gotten a moment’s rest. It’s Saturday and I don’t have a single thing that has to be done. To be honest, I had hoped I’d spend the day in bed with Hollie, but I quickly push that thought out of my head. Instead, I decide I should go into the office. I need to speak to Caroline DuPont anyway. Perhaps if I do a little groveling, she’ll accept our late offer. I’m not exactly hopeful, but I didn’t get where I am by giving up. This may have temporarily derailed me, but I can get back on track. I just need to focus.
I call down to the concierge and order some coffee to be sent up before I jump into the shower. The water is so hot that it seers my skin while still relaxing my tense back and shoulder muscles. When I finally get out and dry off, my skin looks red and raw.
By the time I make it out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, a silver room service tray holding a carafe of coffee, along with containers for cream and sugar, are sitting on the small kitchen table.
