Page 79 of Hating the Boss

I patted the bed beside me for her to sit down. She pressed at her temples and eased herself onto the bed like she was a hundred years old. She let out another groan.

“That good?” I stifled a giggle.

It felt good to laugh after the night before. The gala. Brad. Angela.

What a mess.

Proof it had happened lay on the floor next to me in a champagne heap of tulle and black beads that seemed to have lost their luster. The diamond necklace carelessly tossed on top as if it were play jewelry. I averted my gaze back to Brittany, who was now lying down with her hands across her chest and staring up at the ceiling.

“You look like a mummy,” I said, leaning back against my pillow.

“I feel like a mummy,” she muttered, pulling the blanket over her head.

“You did polish off a full bottle of wine all yourself,” I reminded her.

“Well, no one else was going to drink it. I didn’t want it to go to waste.” She shrugged, the blanket shifting with the movement.

“Is she alive?” asked Jessica, wheeling herself into the bedroom. She raised a brow as she looked at the lump lying next to me, a smirk pulling at her lips. She was already dressed for the day in a lightweight sweater and maxi skirt.

“Barely,” I said.

“How are you doing?” she asked me in that concerned sister tone.

“I’m better,” I said.

And I was, even if it was just by the smallest hair. Spending the night with my sister and my best friend had helped mask the heartbreak I felt, though I had felt it creep back in this morning when I realized I was alone.

Brittany pulled the blanket down slightly, so only her sunglasses showed.

“Wow,” said Jessica, stifling a laugh.

“Shut it,” snapped Brittany.

“You were in rare form last night. You attempted to whip up a batch of cookies in the kitchen, but they were far from edible. They looked like mashed bananas that had gone bad. Smelled even worse,” said Jessica with a grimace.

“Yeah, you were convinced you should be on the show, if only to impress the one judge,” I added.

“My silver fox,” sighed Brittany dreamily.

“He could be your dad,” I said, sticking my tongue out.

“Hardly! He’s only fifty something…”

“Only…” repeated Jessica.

“I’m googling it,” I said, reaching for my phone on my nightstand. I had turned it off the night before, not wanting to see Brad’s name flash across the screen. Or worse, not see a call from him. I didn’t know what I wanted.

As my phone slowly came to life, my notifications popped up like weeds in the spring.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

My eyes adjusted as they finally came to a stop. I sucked in a breath. They were all from Brad. Texts. Calls. Several of each. I thought I would be happy to see his name, but right now, I just felt sad. Angry, even.

I sighed exasperatedly and lay back on my pillow, staring up at the ceiling, completely forgetting why I had turned my phone on in the first place.

“It’s him, huh?” asked Jessica.

“Uh-huh. All thirteen notifications.” I sighed, tossing my phone on the comforter near my feet.