“Darling, there you are,” a male voice says. A familiar male voice. A voice so bone-chillingly familiar that I feel my stomach bottom out as I slowly look up to see Yonny Biliak standing in front of me.
Actually, not just standing in front of me but wrapping his arm around Candace and kissing the side of her cheek.
No fucking way.
Who is Yonny Biliak, you ask?
A self-proclaimed rising star in the legal field, horrid offender of crisscrossing suit patterns, expert dribble pee-er, and my ex-boyfriend of two years. He broke up with me this summer, stating we were going our own ways.Hethought it’d be best that we focus on our careers and not each other.
Funny how it’s the end of summer, and he seems NOT to be focusing on his career but rather the backside of Candace Roundhouse.
Like I can actually see him rubbing her ass. Right here, in the middle of a bar, as if we’re in the privacy of his stuffy bedroom where he chose to show affection because PDA was forbidden. He had to uphold an image, after all.
“The beefy sweetheart of my life,” Candace coos back as she lifts her hand to his ill-shaven face and kisses his dry, crusty lips. At least that’s how I want them to be, but they actually look quite moisturized, which just irritates me even more. Looks like the man found chapstick. Also, can we please pause for a moment and lament over the pet name “beefy sweetheart”? Blech. “I’m so glad you found me. I’m lost without you,” Candace continues.
Oh, come on.
Are they trying to make the bar collectively dry-heave?
I feel Ross lean into me, his hand slowly falling to my back protectively. I appreciate him. He knows how I was after my breakup with Yonny. Yonny never treated me right, yet I still gave him all of me, so when we broke up, I didn’t take it that well.
I spent more time holding a bottle of wine to my lips than I care to admit . . . and yelling at innocent birds just trying to put in a day’s work of finding twigs and worms.
When the two sugarplum sweethearts of our generation are finally done cooing at each other, Yonny looks up, only to be partially stunned when I come into view.
“Ollie,” he says, straightening up. “Didn’t see you there. How, uh, how are you?”
Lovely.
Bubbling with euphoria.
On the precipice of so much joy that my soulless heart—as you once called it—might combust into micro pieces of merriment.
“Great,” I answer louder than I want. “So great. The greatest, actually. The greatest of all time. GOAT. I’m the GOAT of all GOATs.”
“Stop saying goat,” Ross whispers.
I smile with just my lips, regaining my composure, and say, “Just wonderful.”
Yonny drapes his arm around Candace and pulls her in close to his chest, clearly trying to make me jealous.
Well, try harder, sir, because you’re not much of a prize to fight over.
Yet . . . even though I know he’s not a prize and more of a jerk than anything, I feel myself gearing up to do something stupid, say something stupid, anything to save face in front of the man who once told me it was normal to have pee drips all over his underwear.
“I’m really great, actually,” I continue because they can’t hear that enough. I push my hair behind my ear. “Yup, everything is wildly awesome for me right now. Just got the assignment of a lifetime thanks to Candace, living my best life in the heart of Vancouver, rolling in lavish food from sponsor after sponsor, and easily having the best sex of my life.” His brow turns down, and that spurs me on because nothing feels better than seeing an ex displeased with your success. “Yup, so much sex, crazy sex too. Sex that actually makes me convulse like an electric shock but straight to my pu—”
“A semblance of class,” Ross says, cutting me off.
Yup, okay, I can admit when I’ve gotten a touch out of hand.
“Well, that’s nice,” Yonny says, looking uncomfortable. Yeah, that’s right, feel uncomfortable. Regret life. Reconsider all of your choices.
“That’s funny,” Candace says, a smarmy look on her face. “Last I heard, you’ve been in a drought since you and Yonny broke up.”
Freaking office gossip.
I get drunk one night and tell a few girls that it’s been the Sahara Desert between my legs all summer, and it just happens to get back to Candace Roundhouse. What is she freaking doing? Paying people for information? Does she pay them in Post-it Notes? I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s vengeful, folks, and not one to mess with.
