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“Thanks. I should meet with Mrs. Ashton about this.”
“That would be wise.” He generated the notices and pulled them off the printer.
Scowling, Drew scanned them. Four noise complaints, one for rude behavior, and one for smoking in the halls. Livi had invitedfriendsover to party while Drew was on the West Coast. “Does Mrs. Ashton have time this week?”
David considered her schedule. “Thursday at eight forty-five in the morning?”
“I’ll take it. And apologize for me when you see her next.”
“Of course, sir. She is aware that you were away on business.” He gave Drew another slip — the meeting date and time — as well as a knowing look.
“Thanks.”
After seeing the repair guys about his phone, Drew returned home and set it atop the living room radiator cover to dry. They alleged it was waterproof and should be fine once it dried completely. But they advised him to keep it powered off for three to four days.
As he wandered around the apartment, his mind compared Livi to Zel, and the former came up short each time.
His gaze hopped from item to item. Her things occupied every surface: clothes, fashion magazines, jewelry, purses, shoes, makeup. All crap Livi had purchased with his money but not his permission. “Zel wouldn’t tolerate this shit.”
Why did he put up with his girlfriend’s excesses?
“Fuck this.” He poured scotch over ice. Scotch he hadn’t bought. “Fuck her.”
He downed the drink, then gathered everything Livi had brought into his apartment. He piled it in the office. Dresses. Pants. Boots. Bags. Cosmetics, overpriced lingerie, art, and magazines. Bedding. Chairs. Electronics. Video games, hair products, nail polish, and all her motherfucking cigarettes. So much crap crammed into his three-bedroom apartment that he didn’t buy or want.
A few of the items he’d gifted to her, but the majority she’d purchased. Livi was so addicted to spending his money that he’d placed a limit on her credit card the previous year. That had caused the first seismic fracture in their relationship. Six years together and she’d gotten increasingly greedy, lazy, and insensitive. The fracture spread as she complained about the constraints and ignored his attempts at reason.
And now this filth? The noise and rudeness? They were more than he could swallow. Livi had other lovers; Magnus was her favorite. That was fine with Drew. They’d always had an open relationship. But there were rules. Primary among them was not bringing people back to his apartment without his consent, andneverwhen he was traveling.
That rule was unbreakable.
The maintenance man arrived to rekey the apartment while Drew finished searching out all of Livi’s belongings. He’d have David send up a team to pack all her crap into boxes, then ship them to her parents’ home in Connecticut. Her mom and dad could deal with her and her shit.
He. Was. Done.
With new keys in hand and Chinese takeout spread across the small kitchen table, Drew gazed around the apartment. It was sparse without Livi’s clutter, but he felt like he could breathe again.
“This must be how Brick felt after she dumped Tristan. Feels good, Zel. Real good.” He opened the white boxes of Chinese food and dug into sticky rice and General Tso’s chicken. It was fucking delicious.
* * *
The next day, Drew emailedMeteors and Mistressesto his editorial staff and touched base with his marketing team while the cleaning crew scrubbed the last traces of Livi’s mess off his floors and counters.
He checked his social media accounts and remembered his soon-to-be-ex had access to all of them. He changed the permissions and sent her a message telling her she was off them. They needed to talk, but breaking up with her through social media would be shitty. He’d call her once the phone was working.
Drew wasn’t a dick.
Or an idiot.
He called his credit card company and cut her spending limit by two-thirds. She’d be pissed. He wasn’t leaving her penniless while overseas, but she might have to cut her trip short.
“Too fucking bad.” He opened the file of his latest book,Rocket Rendezvous.
Even with the cleaning crew running the vacuum and working around him, Drew finally felt focused in his own home. He got in ten thousand new words before the sun set. His rumbling stomach pulled him from his deep focus. The cleaning crew had left. The apartment smelled clean and looked shiny.
He showered, sans fucking moldy dishes, and crawled into bed. The crew had even put fresh sheets on the bed and laundered the dirty bedding and towels. Man, he loved those guys. He opened the building’s payment portal on his laptop and left the cleaners a hefty tip.
Drew skimmed his news feeds. He responded to messages on social media, replied to emails from his teams, and started to send a quick note to Zel. But his inbox refreshed and a new one popped up.
