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I get to my feet. “I’m so sorry, Glenda. I’ll go put together my resignation letter right now.”
She frowns, waving at me to sit back down. I do so, bracing myself for what is sure to be a dressing down before I leave the premises ofGlistenforever.
“Ava, you have just shed light on something very important, something that probably plagues a good percentage of our readers. You were ashamed of not orgasming, and so you hid it. How many other women are just like you?” she asks.
I look down at her gleaming desk, where not a speck of dust can be seen, to avoid her gaze. The shame is real. And it’s unfair. “I don’t know... I mean, Idoknow. A lot. A lot of women can’t orgasm.”
“And if a woman like you can’t talk about it, think how it is for others.”
She’s right. I get mail every day from women who confide in me because they don’t have anyone else.
“Ava, you have some big thinking to do. Please do not go back to your desk to pen your resignation letter. Take it easy today. Head home if you want. You have some decisions to make not only about your professional life, but also your personal one.”
Tears sting my eyes. Dammit, I hate crying at work.
Glenda stands, signaling it’s time for me to leave. “And for heavens’ sake, Ava, tell Cami not to leave her DMs open for the world to see.”
* * *
47
AVA
“Areyou gonna tell me what happened?” Aunt Dede asks, pressing her perfectly outlined lips into a thin line.
God, I hope I look like her when I’m in my seventies, with her coiffed silver bob and tight jawline.
Thanks to Manhattan’s best hairdressers and plastic surgeons. But still.
I sigh. No use beating around the bush. “What did Andy tell you?”
I don’t really need to ask. I’m just stalling for time. When I kicked my brother out of Jasper’s and my apartment, he went running to Aunt Dede’s like the bitch he is. No doubt he told her everything.
I’m never this salty. It feels good. After I bared my soul to Glenda, I’m feeling kind of… badass.
Like what’s the worst that can happen, when the worst already has?
I sneak a look at my cell when Aunt Dede’s ordering her martini. Good news. No email from Glenda. I haven’t been fired. Yet.
My aunt waits for the waiter to leave, then leans a smidge closer to me for privacy. “He told me… about all the men.”
For the second time in a day, tears burn my eyes. I blink hard and dab at their corners to keep my mascara intact.
But the despair is just too much. My secrets are out, leaving my job and reputation on the line, my brother cruelly judged me, and I like three men who I can’t possibly be with.
On top of that, I sent my email to the guys this morning.
Haven’t heard a word back, not from any of them.
They no doubt think I’m a psycho who completely fabricated an imagined affection for me on their part, and are counting their blessings at being through with me.
They’re probably laughing over the whole fiasco right now at lunch.
I’m such a fool.
That’s when the waiter returns to take our order, and because I can’t stop the tears, I look down, shielding my face with a hand on my forehead.
Aunt Dede leans closer. “Dear, what would you like for lunch?”
