Page 53 of Mr. Perfect

Seriously?

I’m not the one who made up that story about Andrew. He was. I didn’t confirm or deny. So how is it my fault that he conjured up some non-existent sexy weekend between Andrew and me?

I can’t even.

And what the hell is this gift he left? I pick it up. The box is small. Only a little larger than a deck of cards. I pull on the pink satin ribbon and it falls apart, then carefully unwrap the thick white paper and remove the lid off the box.

Inside is a phone.

With a sticky note on it that says, You need professional help.

My jaw drops as I flick the screen to life and realize it’s Heath’s phone. My delusional message stream with Heath is open when it comes to life. All the things that never happened between us are on display.

The dream house, the fake interior design, the babies I imagined us having, the puppy I envisioned romping around our suburban farm, the Pinterest board links and screenshots.

All of it.

I click the links to the Pinterest board for my office gossip stuff just to see if he did have access, and nope. It says page not found.

So who the hell is he to lecture me about lying when he used that lie to blackmail me last week?

I am fuming mad.

But there is no way I will even give him the satisfaction of trying to explain my point of view.

Fuck him.

Just fuck him.

Chapter Twenty-One - Ellie

I have a ton of guests on Mondays, so I am out of my office the entire day flitting back and forth between the airport and the studios with them as I try to do my job to the best of my ability after having McAllister Stonewall literally fuck me in the ass and hand me my walking papers.

I’m so humiliated. Again.

By the time I get back to my office on the seventh floor of the Atrium, it’s past six and I still have to transfer my contacts into the new office computer before I leave.

There is no way I’m going to give McAllister Stonewall the satisfaction of reaming me a new one tomorrow morning as well. No way.

The next morning Mr. Stonewall’s office door is open and the lights are still off when I get in. I have one hour to talk with Jennifer about my duties before I have to be back at the tarmac for guests, so I set my things down and go looking for her.

“Knock, knock,” I say at her open door. She’s busy shuffling papers and squinting at her laptop screen.

“Oh, hi, Ellie!” she says brightly. “What’s up?”

“Well, Mr. Stonewall wants me to go over all my job duties with you this week. It’s pretty busy, but I have about an hour right now to get started if you have time?”

“Oh, sure. My stuff can wait.” She pushes back from her desk and walks over to me. “Let’s go.”

We walk back to my corner of the floor in silence. I am acutely aware of everyone looking at me. Did Mac tell them something? Did he tell them we were… screwing around last week? Or maybe they are still picturing me as I ran out of the conference room last Wednesday screaming the word ‘tampon?’

Jesus Christ. Get me out of here.

Jennifer closes my office door behind her once we get there and I take a seat at my desk, pointing to the chair in front. “You can bring that around so you can see what I’m doing if you want.”

Jennifer smiles as she drags the pretty chair around to my side, then takes a seat and crosses her legs. “I’m sorry, you know.”

“Sorry for what?” I ask, trying to concentrate on bringing up my scheduling program on my laptop.