by Lisa Suzanne
I felt the loss of what we’d once had. I missed John—or maybe the idea of John. I mostly missed what we’d had when we’d been dating, back before the marriage that had ended up being just one huge disappointment.
I missed the feeling of sharing a home with someone who was always there for me. Even when it had gotten difficult—and it had, all those long hours John had put in at work—even then, he’d still been my home. And that was gone now, just a distant memory.
But that sadness and that feeling of loss was nothing compared to how much I missed Cole.
I thought about Cole often. Daily. Hourly. Even now, eight months after the last time I’d seen him, he never left my mind for even a moment.
I thought about what he might be doing. I wondered if he’d moved into his beach house. I wondered how he was coping with his new assistant, whoever that might be.
I hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since the day I’d left his office with those final words: “I quit.” There had been no communication via text or email, either. I vowed to myself not to stalk his Facebook or his Instagram. It was too hard to see his smiling face, so I didn’t allow myself the opportunity.
I’d gotten a surprise in my final paycheck, though. In addition to the ten grand, he’d also cashed out my vacation time, including the two week bonus he’d given me with the award. He was trying to take care of me in his own way, and I appreciated that. I’d written him a thank you note at the time, telling him how grateful I was for the extra money. I didn’t send it, though. He deserved to move on.
It still broke my heart when I spotted him on Page Six with a new blonde bimbo or when I checked the local business section of the paper and saw how he was thriving without me.
I knew better than anyone the smile could be fake, that he could be putting on a front for the public to maintain his professional persona. He could be smiling on the outside to project to everyone that life was perfect.
Those few instances of seeing his image were all I had to go on, though, and just like always, I had trouble reading his true feelings.
I’d forgiven him in our time apart. We’d never labeled what we had as exclusive, and while it had hurt to see him with another woman, he’d been right when he put me in my place in his hotel room. We hadn’t been able to label what we had together because we’d been having an affair. You can’t call someone your boyfriend when you’ve already got a husband.
He was wrong about one thing, though. He’d told me that there were two losers in this—John and him.
But I was the biggest loser of all. I’d managed to kill two important relationships in a matter of a few hours while also leaving my job.
My mind drifted to the email I’d gotten just that morning.
Lincoln Mathers wanted me to move into a full-time position at his office instead of working as an independent consultant from home. I just wasn’t sure how to break the news to Madi. Or Kaylee, for that matter.
I’d gone to lunch with Lincoln and his wife a few times since I’d quit working with Cole. Alexis—Lincoln’s wife—had become a friend, and I brought Madi with me for a playdate with their two kids—a boy Madi’s age and a girl a little younger.
Lincoln’s offer was a totally new position for me. I’d be working with the creative team to develop ideas that would then move to Benson Industries for market research and product development.
I’d enjoyed my work as an executive assistant. It had come with excellent perks, decent hours, pleasant meals, surprising bonuses, and, of course, the chance to work closely with the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. Plus it was the type of job where I could work my hours and leave my work at the office.
Being part of a creative team meant longer hours, nights and weekends, and bringing work home.
But I’d always wondered whether there was more out there for me than being someone’s assistant. As much as I loved working with Cole and his father, I had ambitions of my own. Clearly Cole had recognized that in me when he’d started giving me more responsibility.
The more I thought about it, the fewer reasons I could come up with as to why working longer hours would be a bad thing. Throwing myself into a new position would probably be exactly what I needed, but there was the risk of running into Cole. I wasn’t ready to see him again. Maybe I’d never be ready to see him again, especially not if he’d started dating.
I swiped at the tears that had fallen down my cheeks as I folded the divorce paperwork and slid it back into the envelope. I’d file it away, and soon enough it would be nothing but a memory. These were the last tears I’d cry over my broken marriage, but I was sure they weren’t the last tears I’d cry over Cole.
I headed toward the kitchen since it was high time for a glass of wine. Kaylee was in there fiddling with a Santa Claus figurine whose long white beard had seen better days.
“You okay?” my sister asked when I filled the wineglass to the very top.
I nodded.
“What was in the letter Kevin gave you?”
I took a long gulp of wine before I answered. I held my glass up in the air and forced a smile. “It’s official. I’m divorced.”
“Oh, Lucy,” Kaylee said. She touched my arm gently. “Congratulations?”
I pressed my lips into a thin smile. “Yes. It’s time to celebrate. I’m officially single, and it’s time for me to reclaim my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m moving out.”
“No, Auntie Lucy! You can’t!” A sleepy little girl walked into the room and wrapped her arms around my leg. “Walk,” she commanded.
I made a big show of pretending like I couldn’t move my leg, and she giggled like she always did with our little game.
“You don’t have to,” Kaylee said.
I mouthed the word “later” to her and nodded down at Madi. We’d talk later when we weren’t around a five-year-old. But my mind was made up, and if the past year had taught me anything, it was that I was one stubborn bitch. Once I got an idea in my head, there was no swaying me from the course.
“Kevin!” Kaylee yelled.
He appeared in the doorway. “Yes, wife?”
“We’re taking two cars to the recital, okay?”
He shrugged, used to submitting to his wife’s demands. “Okay. Why?”
“Lucy has some celebrating to do, so I’m going to take her out.”
“Kay, you don’t have to do that,” I protested.
She glared at me. “Nonsense. I’m your sister and you need this.” I couldn’t argue with that. She lowered her voice. “Besides, we need to talk.”
I chugged my wine, and then it was time to get ready for the recital.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I was less tipsy than I should’ve been considering I’d drank half a bottle of wine. It was probably poor form to attend an elementary school Christmas recital after drinking, but I couldn’t change what was done.
I got up to use the restroom in the middle of the second grade rendition of “Jingle Bells” and again during the fifth grade’s performance of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” But I didn’t miss a second of sweet Madi’s class singing “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.”
Once the seemingly everlasting show was over, we congratulated Madi (Kaylee even gave her a bouquet), and then Kevin and Madi headed home while I sat in Kaylee’s front seat.
“Where to?” she asked.
“This was your idea. Take me wherever you want.”
She chuckled. “You know what? It’s been a long-ass time since we hit the scene in LA.”
“Let’s just go somewhere close,” I said, suddenly panicked at the thought of going into the city.
I wasn’t ready to go back. I wasn’t ready for all that the city represented.
“You told me to take you wherever I want, so sit back and hush up.”
It was one of those nights where I realized my sister was stubborn like me, and I didn’t like her—or myself—all that much sometimes.
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An hour later, she tossed her keys to the valet as we got out at a bar we frequented when we were in our early twenties. In fact, I remembered going there for my twenty-first birthday. Or didn’t remember, as the case may be.
But that was over seven years earlier. I was closer to thirty now, newly divorced and feeling my age as I watched the young twenty-somethings walk up to the bouncer in their tight, short dresses. I glanced down at my jeans and sweater and then eyed my sister, who was dressed similar to me.
“We’re not dressed for this,” I complained.
“Who gives a fuck? We look hotter than those skanks,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward a group of girls.
“One drink. Then we leave.”
“I didn’t drive an hour to the city for one drink. We’re getting wasted tonight, babe. I booked us a hotel room and everything.”
“You can’t just kidnap me and force me to stay in LA for the night.”
“Can’t I?” Her eyes gleamed wickedly as she stared me down.
She had a point. I had nowhere to go. No job I had to report to.
No man waiting at home for me.
She wasn’t giving me much of a choice, so I may as well indulge her. I rolled my eyes and she grinned, knowing right away that I’d conceded before I’d even said a word.
And then she hooked her arm through mine and we walked together into the bar. The bouncer didn’t even card us, which made me feel positively geriatric. It was exactly as I remembered it—loud and dark. Lights bounced off every surface, and the large wooden square in the center of the room was filled with ladies showing too much skin and men who’d had too much to drink. It hearkened back to a magical time in my life when I’d had no real cares and very little responsibility other than waking up in time to attend my classes.
I supposed I’d been living a similar existence for the past several months. I didn’t have a whole lot of responsibility. Lincoln’s flexibility with my schedule had been more than appreciated, and it had allowed me to help with Madi at the drop of a hat.
We walked up to the bar and were largely ignored for a few minutes by the strapping young bartender who sported sleeves of tattoos, a beard, and a man-bun that I was sure the younger ladies liked but I found a bit ridiculous.
The gorgeous bone structure in Cole’s face flashed through my mind. He was so…manly, and while he sported some scruff, he was generally clean-cut. He looked like an adult rather than a child playing dress-up.
I sighed as I tried to push him out of my mind.
Man-bun finally looked in our direction, and Kaylee ordered us each a whiskey sour and Alabama slammers. I cast her a look when she ordered shots for us, and she just shrugged her shoulders with feigned innocence.
“What?” she asked once she’d paid for our first round and I gave her a wary look as I held the shot in one hand and the whiskey drink in the other.
“Shots?”
“I thought it would be fun to keep drinking these until we can no longer actually say ‘Alabama slammer.’”
I giggled, held up my shot glass and toasted my sister, and then we both tipped our heads back and drank down the sweet liquid.
We worked a little slower on our whiskey sours as we attempted conversation over the loud music and the drunken youngsters shimmying all around us.
“Why are you moving out?” Kaylee asked.
“It’s time, Kay. I love living with you and I love helping out with Madi, but it’s time. I need to figure out who I am on my own, and I’ve relied on your hospitality for long enough.”
“But where will you go?”
I shrugged. “I got an offer from Lincoln.”
Her eyes lit up like they did every time I brought up Lincoln, who Kaylee referred to as the “Silver Fox.” “You did?”
“He wants me to come in to discuss the possibility of moving me from part time to full-time. He made it sound sort of like an interview but he also made it sound like I’m guaranteed the position if I’m interested. The interview is a formality, I guess.”
“And are you interested?”
I glanced down at the table. “I don’t know.”
“Because you might run into Cole.”
“I’m not ready for that.”
“Sweetie, it’s been months.”
I ran my finger absently along the rim of my glass. “I know.” I looked up at my sister. “It’s sad and pathetic that I’m still not over him.”
“You need another Alabama slammer.”
“I need more than an Alabama slammer. I need sex. Maybe I just need a hot night with a stranger to get my mind off of the past. I need to let him go and move on, but I can’t stop missing him.”
“It’s because you’re too focused on what you lost. Your head is in the past because you don’t have a job or an apartment or something to throw yourself into. Kev and I appreciate all you’ve done for us, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever.”
“I don’t want to leave you guys, but Kevin’s better and you don’t need me.”
Kaylee reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “We’ll always need you, Lucy.”
I smiled a bit sadly that this part of my story was coming to an end.
“Hold the table,” Kaylee said. “I’ll go get us more drinks.”
I dug through my purse and handed Kaylee some cash to cover the next round. I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly, and somehow I found myself landing on Cole’s Instagram.
I was proud of what a good job I’d done avoiding stalking Cole on social media since I’d quit and walked out of his office. I just had this nagging feeling inside of me to see how he was doing, and of course I found a new photo from earlier that evening.
The caption simply read Grande Event Charity Gala #givegrande.
But it was the photograph that caught my eye. Cole looked more handsome than ever, smiling for the camera in a tuxedo. His hair was freshly trimmed, and the scruff that I could still feel against my skin when I closed my eyes was neatly groomed.
His dark eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners with a genuine smile for the camera.
But it wasn’t just Cole in the photo.
A gorgeous woman with long blonde waves and bright blue eyes wore a smile that matched Cole’s. I hadn’t seen her before—she was just another blonde from Cole’s little black book. She wore a fuchsia dress and lipstick in the exact same shade. She was elegant and tall and a perfect modelesque match for the very dashing and handsome Cole.
I sucked back the rest of my whiskey sour, allowing an ice cube to melt on my tongue in order to savor the flavor while I waited for Kaylee to return. I stared down at the picture. He looked happy. He looked like he had moved on, and I was sitting here all these months later still wishing I was with him. Still pining away.
Hot tears pricked behind my eyes, but I wasn’t going to cry. I’d shed enough tears, and this was my own doing anyway.
“What?” Kaylee asked, scaring the shit out of me when she returned with our drinks. She set them down on the table—the same order as the first round.
I slid my phone over to her so she could inspect the picture.
Her eyes met mine, and they were soft and gentle. She slid my phone back to me, and then she slid her Alabama slammer to me. “You need it more than I do.”
I slammed both shots and then started on the next whiskey drink.
The alcohol was warm on top of the half bottle of wine I’d guzzled earlier, and I was starting to feel the soft haze of drunkenness.
I’d largely avoided alcohol over the past few months. Being around a five-year-old just didn’t seem to call for much drinking other than the occasional glass of wine, and the shots mixed with the whiskey and the wine were hitting my system.
“He looks good, Luce,” Kaylee finally said.
“I know,” I said miserably. “He looks happy.”
“You will, too. Everything takes time. You’ll find your happiness.”
“Will I? Or did I
already have my chance…twice?”
“Everyone deserves happiness. You found it with John, and you found it with Cole. But those didn’t work for a reason. They weren’t meant to be. You’ll find the one that is.”
“That’s a nice thing to say, but I just don’t know anymore.”
“Sitting around here drinking your sorrows away isn’t going to change anything.”
“This was your idea,” I reminded her.
She smiled sheepishly. “Actually, it was Kevin’s idea.”
“Men,” I huffed, and she giggled.
“Why don’t we just make a fun night out of it? No more wallowing.”
“Too late,” I said, nodding to the empty shot glasses. “You know I’m not always a fun drunk.”
“I remember a few times when I held back your hair.”
“Only when I was visiting you in college.”
“When you were still in high school?” she asked, and I nodded. We both giggled at the memory, and that led to more ridiculous recollections.
Soon we were laughing so hard that we were both wiping our eyes. Cole (and the gorgeous woman in the photo) was still on my mind, but at least my sister had managed to help me think about something else, even if only for a little bit. And I was grateful for that.
“Let’s dance,” she said after our next round of drinks. I had to admit that the haze of alcohol was making me antsy, so I nodded and we ditched our table for the dance floor.
Good looking men danced all around us, but most of them either were too young or were dancing with drunken ladies closer to their age. I felt like a cougar as I eyed one guy who had to be barely legal. He was cute, but he didn’t hold a candle to the man who had stolen my heart.
Even through the whiskey cloud, even after all these months, there he was, still on my mind.
Sex. A good night of sex with one of these men would most certainly be the cure.
I felt someone’s hands at my hips as his body moved in flush against mine. My sister raised her eyebrows and gave me a smile, so I knew he had to be cute. One of his friends started dancing with my sister, and she pushed him off and held up her wedding ring. I watched the denial with amusement.