Once Upon Stilettos

Page 77

I got another tissue and wiped my eyes and nose. I was already feeling much better. “You know what’s funny?” I asked. “I wasn’t that incredibly into him to begin with. I only asked him out in the first place because we needed an intellectual property attorney. I thought he was okay, but it was definitely not love at first sight. And then when he kept asking me out after that, I thought I might as well go out with him. I mean, he seemed nice, he’s cute, and he’d be a good catch.”
“He’s good on paper,” Trix agreed with a world-weary sigh. “But he can be the perfect catch and not be right for you if there’s no chemistry.”
“I thought there was chemistry,” I said. “But maybe I was only trying to convince myself.” I knew better than to share the real reason why I’d tried to talk myself into falling for Ethan with this bunch. That would be asking to become the center of office gossip and dragging Owen with me. “I think I just wanted somebody, and he was better than my other options at the time.”
“That doesn’t get him off the hook,” Ari insisted. “He dumped you at lunch in a restaurant, for crying out loud.”
“But at least he told me,” I argued. “Most guys would have just fallen off the face of the earth. They’d have stopped calling me and left me to figure it out for myself when I didn’t hear from them for a few weeks.”
“She does have a point,” Isabel said with a sigh.
“Still,” Ari said, “lunchtime! So she had to go back to work and face the rest of the day. What, he couldn’t spring for dinner for his breakup meal? Or did he already have something lined up for the evening?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said with only the tiniest of sniffles.
“Want to go out for drinks after work?” Isabel offered.
I shook my head. “No, I want to go home and eat ice cream. My roommates will look out for me.” That was, if they weren’t out with their boyfriends. I was the lone single girl once more.
“Girls’ night out Friday,” Trix declared. “I think we can all use the break.”
I wasn’t so sure. The first time I’d gone out with all of them, we’d wound up kissing frogs in Central Park, which was how both Philip and Jeff had come into my life. But since then, we’d had a few perfectly normal (there was that word again) outings where the only things that were magical or odd were Trix’s and Ari’s wings.
“You could even wear those hot red shoes and let other men get the benefit,” Ari suggested.
“Can I get back to you later in the week?” I asked. “Let’s see how I’m feeling then. Right now, I just want to hibernate for a while.”
Ari and Isabel soon left, then Trix said, “Why don’t you go on home? I’ll cover for you.”
“No, I can’t abandon you like that, not after taking the day off before Thanksgiving.”
She snorted. “Yeah, like that was a busy day. I gave myself a manicure and pedicure. And I missed a whole day of work from my breakup.”
“But I have work to do.”
“And how effective will you be? Will you get anything done at all, or will you stare into space and think about what you should have said?”
I sighed deeply. “Maybe you’re right. But if I go home early, won’t he know he got to me?”
She winked. “How will he know you went home early? As far as he’ll know—if he even checks—you’re in important meetings all afternoon. Go home or go shopping or make something for your holiday buddy. That’ll count as work, sort of. This program was your idea, so you have to set an example and do it right.”
“Okay, you don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll go.” As much as I felt like a slacker and a wimp, I didn’t want to be in the office. I’d never before taken time off because a boyfriend had broken up with me, but that could be because I hadn’t had much of anything resembling a boyfriend since I’d been working. I’d had dates since moving to New York, but nobody around long enough to be called a boyfriend, and while I was working at my parents’ store after graduating from college, there had been nobody. No wonder I’d let myself fall for Ethan in spite of my doubts. I’d been lonely, pathetic, and desperate.
On my way home, I stopped at a neighborhood grocery store to pick up ingredients for my favorite Christmas cookies. As I approached the entrance to my apartment building, I saw Mrs. Jacobs with her little rat-like dog (actually, I kind of suspected she’d put a leash on a real rat) going through the door. There was no point in picking up my pace and asking her to hold the door for me, even though it would have helped if I didn’t have to juggle my grocery bags while unlocking the front door. She’d let the door slam in my face, smugly citing the rule that we weren’t supposed to let anyone follow us into the building.