I peeled off my layers, changed into sweats, and nested in my nicest blankets. All the Egyptian cotton in the world couldn’t absorb my misery. Part of me wanted to chug the wine andchampagne in my fridge, but my stomach was already rolling, so I ordered Chinese food and doom-scrolled my phone amid episodes of reality TV.
My notifications pinged with client messages.
I sighed and swiped them away.
Let them take care of their own needs for a minute. I blocked my shoe-loving ex too while I was at it. I blew my nose and wrapped myself in a chunky blanket. At least no one would check on me. I could wallow as long as I needed.
I clicked through more social feeds and froze when Shelby’s popped up. She’d posted Harvey with the pretzel bites and captioned it, 'The Boy with the Bread' with heart eye emojis. I chuckled and liked it. At least someone had a nice time on our date.
She sent me a message.
The picture loaded in our message chain. Harvey held a dart in the foreground. He eyed his girlfriend with loving censure, probably so tuned-in to her energy he noticed the second she raised a camera at him.
But beyond him, off to the right, me and Zack cozied up in our own little world. We angled toward one another, laughing and smiling. I’d propped myself on his shoulder, and he held onto my waist, his thumb grazing my bare midriff. He beamed at me like I was a model for the Closette, an angel in disguise. I grinned at him like he was Zack: former quarterback, possible soulmate, and total beefcake with overbearing, lovable ‘dad’ energy.
I sighed.
We were fucking gorgeous. Too bad that moment would be one of our last. At least she’d immortalized it for us. I sent her a heart emoji and saved the picture to my gallery. Although I’d never post it for the newfound ‘fans’ of me and Zack, this was an important memory. Priceless, really.
A text pinged through. Wow, I was popular this evening. When I saw who it was, I had to fight my gag reflex. I forgot to block his actual phone number too.
Did it matter?
I scoffed and glanced at my closet. What hoodie was he talking about?
He did have a spare pair of underwear and a shirt stowed somewhere around here. Nothing that required an at-home visit, though, especially after the scene he caused with Zack.
I almost typed out, “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.” But fuck using another man as a defense. No more excuses.
He needed some fucking empathy.
Then, he wouldn’t have any other reason to contact me.
I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t going to be some opportunity to rekindle things. I was pretty sure he didn’t even like me. His ego was bruised. He needed to reassure himself he was still pretty.
Well, he had Bigfoot for that. Miss Purple Purse could stroke his ego all she wanted. I didn’t need any reminders of Theo in my apartment. All I had left of the guy Iactuallywanted to be with were a few photographs on my phone.
Frustration bubbled high enough that I was motivated to get out of bed. I tore through my closet to purge myself of ex-lovers. What did Theo find so valuable he had to message me, anyway?
Armando and Hitch T-shirt: $25
