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Christa narrows her eyes at me. “Or, you could just call Carter and get it over with. What are you gonna do, call off of work for the rest of the week? This is dumb. Just talk to the guy.”
What she says makes sense, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to do it. To hear him say she’s some crazy ex and he’s not engaged or having a baby. Or that yeah, he is and sorry for leading me on.
“I mean, honestly, if it’s all true, when was he planning on telling me? The day before his wedding? When the chick started to show a baby bump? Argh!” I take a big swig from the bottle and realize it’s empty. “Wine emergency.”
She snatches the bottle from my hand. “You’ve had enough. Now, what you’re going to do is take your little ass to work tomorrow, act normal, and then request a meeting with the boss man. Okay?”
“Do I have to?” I whine.
She smacks her hand on the dusty table. “Yes, you have to.”
“Can I do it Friday instead?” I ask like a small child.
She stands, grabbing her tiny little red Coach handbag, and shakes her head. “Absolutely not.” She heads toward the door that leads to the house. “I’ll throw this away on my way out and you will get some damn sleep. Lord knows this should help.” She holds up the empty dark glass bottle.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say.
After we hug goodbye and I close and lock the door, I realize I’m going to have to sleep here or wait a couple of hours until I sober up to drive home. I have nothing here for the morning so I plop on the couch and turn the TV on, hoping to get lost in a movie or show to distract my insane thoughts.
I’ve been sitting here for over an hour. I’ve been so overly tired today but my brain won’t shut off, though I feel close to passing out. I pick up my cell and read through Carter’s messages. He’s been relentlessly calling and texting. In a weak moment of exhaustion and too many emotions, I decide to reply to his text.
Me:I’ll be in to work tomorrow. Don’t worry it’ll be business as usual, I won’t even look at you. Don’t call me or drive by my house. I’m not home. Goodnight.
My finger hovers over thesendbutton and I decide fuck it, before I hit it.
My eyes flutter closed, unable to remain open any longer.
THIRTY-ONE
Carter
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Ican’t work. Tappingmy pen against the back of my neck, I pace my office. Something is wrong, I can feel it.
She called off Wednesday and texted back to say she’ll be in today but she was cold and rude. She hasn’t been answering my calls or her door, but she did respond via text last night, finally, but it did nothing to ease my mind. At least I knew she was safe.
