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“I…” My breath hitches. “I made a huge mistake, Brit.”
Long lashes flutter over her wide sea-blue eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. Brit can be patient when she tries.
“God.” I shudder out a breath before burying my face in my hands. “I’d do anything to take it back.”
She rubs a comforting circle between my shoulder blades, and when I raise my head, I don’t find a smidgeon of judgment in her expression. Only wary curiosity.
“What’d you do, Jules?”
“I got wasted.” That’s significant enough on its own, since I rarely drink. A beat passes in which the words try to lodge in my throat, thick as molasses. “I…I slept with Perry.”
Perry Reynolds. My boss. My gorgeous and persistent married boss.
I wish like hell he hadn’t been there at the bar that night. He’d been surrounded by his usual crowd, including his partner at the firm. Darlene, who hates my ever-loving guts and happens to be his wife’s best friend.
He’d kept his distance at first, but I remember him moving closer with each drink I poured down my throat.
Maybe he’d felt sorry for me because of the way I’d sat alone, drowning my sorrows in the bottom of a glass. Okay, more than one glass. More like eight or nine. Shit, to be honest, I can’t remember how much I drank that night. In fact, I recall zilch after he hopped onto the barstool next to mine.
But the following morning…well, the memory of waking next to his naked hotness in a hotel room is ingrained in my mind.
The people at work would accuse us of heading there all along, of stumbling headfirst into a secret and shameful romp in the sheets. From the day he hired me, the office grapevine took us through the wringer, whispering about the heated vibes between the boss man and his latest assistant. But I never had any intention of acting on the harmless flirting between Perry and me. Besides, screwing unattainable men is far from my style, and I had Chris.
Had.
I choke at the thought.
“It’s really over,” I say, my voice little more than a strangled whisper. A single moment of weakness on my part ended up being the final breaking point in my relationship with Chris. He isn’t coming back.
Brit stands and pulls me to my feet. “So you made a mistake. Get over it, baby sister. Life happens.”
I raise my brows, stunned by her harsh tone, though it isn’t the first time she’s spoken to me like that. “Tell me how you really feel, Brit.”
Dropping my arm, she gestures toward my pathetic state of undoneness, from the blotchiness I’m certain is coloring my cheeks to the faded yoga pants hugging my hips. “You’re a mess, Jules. I’m only telling it like it is.”
“If this is your idea of cheering me up, you missed the mark by a fucking mile.”
She despises when I drop the F-bomb. So does Mom, for that matter. They believe speaking such words is unrefined. Just as I expect, Brit purses her lips.
“I didn’t come here to cheer you up. I came here to get your ass moving.”
Whoa. When Brit cusses she isn’t messing around.
“I’ve gotta go into the city for a shoot,” she says, checking the time on her cell, “but as soon as I’m finished I’ll come pick you up. We’ll get our hair and nails done.”
I sink into the mattress, overwhelmed by the thought of doing anything other than crying into his pillow for the next decade. It’s the only thing of his I have left. “I can’t.”
She crosses her arms, and the hard planes of her face cause my stomach to plummet. I recognize that look—it’s a look few people escape.
“Snap out of it,” she says, placing a hand on her hip. “You and Chris have been at each other’s throats since you moved in together. I’m not surprised you slept with someone else. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on? Everyone saw this coming.”
She has good intentions. At least, that’s what I tell myself as she twists the knife in a little deeper.
“Everyone but me,” I mutter.
“Love makes us blind. Trust me. This is for the best.” Brit hikes the strap of a leather Gucci bag high onto her shoulder, and I cringe to think of how much she spent on it. “I’ll be back, Julie Bean.” Her tone says what her words don’t—be ready, or else.
After she prances out the way she came, I drape my bed with a groan and bury my nose in the pillow that smells like Chris.
