Cinderella Screwed Me Over (33 page)

“I tried.” I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I could curl up in a ball until none of me was left. “I just need some space right now.”

Jake hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s never going to change, is it? I thought…” He shook his head, and then he looked at me as if he was waiting for something. He let out a rough exhale. “I’ll make it easy and give you plenty of space. Good-bye, Darby. I hope you find what you’re looking for someday.”

A heaviness entered my chest, and no matter how many times I swallowed, the tears lodged in my throat wouldn’t go away.

Jake hesitated in the doorway, and without looking back said, “Maybe if you’d have looked for a reason to be with me instead of dump me, you would’ve found one.”

Chapter Thirty-two

The days after my talk with Jake had gone horribly wrong weren’t pretty. I moped, watched hours of the most skuzzy, awful reality TV, and cursed all happy couples—real and fictional. Panicked I’d bump into him, I rushed in and out of my building like a paranoid lunatic. Having to go through that stress every day was why I had a rule about getting involved with people I couldn’t avoid. I’d outdone myself with Jake. I could avoid Blue, but I couldn’t really avoid where I lived.

Relief filled me at the end of the day when I was tucked into my condo with nowhere else to go. I’d poke at whatever I managed to make for dinner—usually a frozen microwave meal with more frost than food—and feel sorry for myself. It was ridiculous, considering Jake and I had only known each other a couple of months.

On Friday, I dug the Post-it with Porter’s number out of my purse and stuck it on my fridge. Every time I saw it I’d stare at it for a few seconds. Then I’d walk on.

Saturday afternoon—after a tube of uncooked cookie dough and a Lifetime movie—I broke down and called Porter.

“It’s about time,” he said when he answered. “So when are we going out?”

…

I’d tried to organize Stephanie’s bachelorette party, but she kind of took over, and it ended up being more structured than I’d planned on making it: drinks at Tryst, no cutesy bridal stuff, and no males anywhere close to her.

Laura, a girl from Steph’s work, tried to slip on a tiara-veil-thing as we followed the hostess to our table. “It’ll be so cute, and then everyone will know that you’re getting married.”

Steph shot me a look, and I knew I was supposed to take care of it. I took the veil and put it in my purse. “I’ll just set it aside so Stephanie can have it as a keepsake.”

The seven women in our party settled into a large booth in the back. Out of the seven, two weren’t married—Stephanie, the bride-to-be, and me. That, paired with the fact we were in an isolated area of Tryst, made this night more of a girls’ night out than a party.

I thought back to some of the crazy bachelorette parties I’d attended in my twenties. Compared to those, Stephanie’s was pathetic. Women told stories about their husbands; I heard stories about their kids. One about potty training was especially detailed and painful to sit through. All the women gushed about Anthony and what an amazing couple he and Stephanie made, while I started tossing back drinks. When the waiter came by, I asked for a sex on the beach and told him to keep them coming. The party got more interesting from there.

Once everyone worked up a buzz, they got chatty. And loud. I told stories about the horrible guys Steph used to date, and then she’d tell one about me. I heard about Stephanie’s first days at work, about the change they saw when she met Anthony, and how before something was missing, but now she glowed.

Like you need a guy to swoop in to not have something missing. And what are we? Fireflies? Seriously, who wants to glow?

I was completely happy for Steph, but seeing these women—the married-with-children crowd—only reiterated how much things were about to change. In a pinch, I could still count on my best friend. But there’d be commitments to Anthony, his family, the family they planned on starting right away. Sitting there, surrounded by six other women, a feeling of intense loneliness settled over me. Even Drew—the guy who was supposed to be as calloused as I was about love—was going to abandon me for it.

Just another reason love stinks.

My next drink showed up just in time to toast that sentiment.

Guys started swinging by on a regular basis, hoping to score with the drunk chicks. Laura was nice enough to point a finger at me when a tall guy clad in a leather jacket stopped by. “She’s the only one who’s single.”

I looked up at the guy.

The disappointment on his face was clear, which didn’t do much for my already fragile ego. He stood there, looking uncomfortable for a moment.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not interested either.”

He couldn’t get away fast enough.

A few minutes later, a guy tapped Steph on the shoulder. She rolled her head in his direction, then looked to me.

“She’s getting married,” I said. Words seemed thick and hard to get out. “This is her bachelorette party.”

“How about a last fling before you settle down?” he asked, grinning at her.

“Sorry, buddy. It’s a girl’s night, and she’s not interested in cheating on her fiancé.” I gave him the scoot signal, sweeping my hand through the air. “So get lost.”

He muttered something less than flattering under his breath before walking away.

I flung my arm around Stephanie’s shoulder. “I wonder what Jake’s doing. I mean, it’s Saturday night, so I’m sure he’s working, but I wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Steph slurred.

“If he misses me? Isn’t it stupid to miss him so much already? I feel all needy. This is why I don’t drink. I get sloppy and emotional and it’s hard to comp—to compartlize—” Words weren’t coming out right. I tried again. “To keep my feelings in check. Then I start making big mistakes. Like that night I met Allen.”

“Jake wasn’t a mistake, though.”

“I screwed it all up. I can’t even blame Cinderella this time.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I pushed him too far, he’s leaving, it’s done.” Even with the alcohol dulling my senses, I still felt the sharp pain in my heart.

The bartender brought another round of drinks and I considered them for a moment before waving them off. “I’m going to stop before I do something stupid.”

Steph waved them away as well. “I had fun, celebrated my last single weekend, and now all I want to do is go home to my guy.” She looked at me, a sloppy grin on her face. “Can you get me home to my guy?”

Of course getting her home was easier said than done. Stephanie had this weird fear of taxi drivers. If someone she knew was with her, she was fine. Leave her alone with the driver, and she went into panic mode. I’d ridden past my place just so she wouldn’t have to be alone. As we turned down her street, I called Anthony to come get her.

When she saw him outside her door, she erupted in uncontrollable laughter.

He pulled her out of the taxi and put his arm around her.

She poked at his cheek. “You’re amazing. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He leaned over to see me, keeping Steph next to him. “You okay getting home alone?”

I knew he was being nice, so I bit back my thanks-for-rubbing-it-in comment. “I’m good.”

“And you can make it into your building? You’re not too—”

“Shh!”
Steph glanced at the driver. “He’ll take advantage of her.” She got louder. “Keep your stun gun ready in case of trouble.”

I laughed. She was more wasted than I’d realized. My head still felt fuzzy, but functioning wasn’t a problem. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Anthony. See you, Steph.”

She giggled and waved. Anthony turned and helped her into their house.

I gave the driver my address and sat back in the seat.
Note to self: No more bachelorette parties. They’re just not as fun as they used to be.

A few minutes later, the cab pulled up to my building. Walking in a straight line took some effort, but I was able to make it inside my building and to the elevator. The doors opened with a
bing
and I stepped inside. My hand hovered over the five button, and then I moved it up and pushed the number twenty. All night I’d felt alone, and I was sick of it. There’s a reason why alcohol’s sometimes referred to as
liquid courage
.

“Whoa,” I said as the elevator lurched to a stop. I steadied myself, then stepped off the elevator into the empty hall. I got past the first door—only three more to go—then froze.

Oh my gosh, what am I doing? I’m going to show up drunk and desperate just so I don’t feel lonely tonight? That’s seriously pathetic
.

I hurried back the way I’d come, the wall getting closer with each step. Stumbling, I made it back to the elevator. Pushing the button over and over, I prayed Jake wouldn’t be coming up or leaving or anything that would force me to see him.
Liquid courage
was the wrong word. It gave you courage to do what you usually had common sense not to.

The doors opened and I lunged inside. For the first time tonight, I felt lucky to be alone. I punched my floor and almost tipped over when the elevator started its descent.

Tomorrow, I’d go out with Porter. Then my life could finally get back to normal. Or what constituted as normal for an anti-love, I-don’t-need-anyone-but-myself person like me.

Chapter Thirty-three

The black wrap dress caught my eye as I scanned my closet for what to wear on my date. Going out with Porter seemed like a much better idea than starting over with someone completely new. He already knew about my stance on love, I cared about him, and he’d stuck up for me before. With him back in town, I figured he’d be someone I could spend time with when Steph was busy. In fact, I was starting to think his coming into town at the same time everything else started going wrong with Jake was a fortuitous coincidence.

My phone rang. I picked it off my nightstand and glanced at the display.
Drew.

I bet he and Lisa broke up and he wants to come trolling for women. Maybe I won’t have to live alone forever
.

“What’s up?” I said.

“I was thinking that tomorrow morning you and Jake might want to come get a late breakfast with Lisa and me.”

“Yeah, about that… You see, Jake and I… We’re not—”

“Don’t tell me you broke up with the only decent guy you’ve dated in years,” Drew said.

“Let’s just say, I hope you’re making enough money to find us a nice place to retire in.”

“Oh sure. I’m rolling in the dough.” Drew sighed. “So, what did you find wrong this time? Not stuck up enough? He got along with us?”

“Well, that did concern me,” I said, attempting a joke.

Silence.

I clenched my jaw, the ache I was trying to pretend didn’t exist squeezing at my heart. “Nothing, okay. He’s going to start up a restaurant in another city and be gone all the time, and I ran into Porter and—”

“I swear if you go out with that prick again, I’m disowning you. Then when it doesn’t work out—because we both know it’s not gonna—you’re going to live alone, because I’m not moving in with someone who doesn’t have any common sense.”

“You know what, Drew? I don’t need anyone to tell me that I’m not good at relationships. Especially not someone like
you
.” Fuming, I hit the disconnect button and threw my phone on my bed. “Argh!”

Who does he think he is, telling me who I can and can’t date?

I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself.
Just forget about him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“I’m not moving in with you if you don’t have any common sense,” I said, mimicking Drew’s words. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to live with you, either. In fact, living alone forever suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.”

…

Porter took me to Palace Arms at the Brown Palace Hotel, the same placed he’d taken me on our first date. The first time he’d brought me there, I didn’t even know what some of the things on the menu were. No matter how many times he insisted the foie gras was amazing, I didn’t even like liver, much less duck liver.

While we ate, he told me all about his time in New York, how much his company had grown while he was there, and how he’d sold his shares so he could pursue other interests. I just sat there, soaking it all in. Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.

After he’d finished his meal, he dropped his fork and looked at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so excited to see you that I’ve been going on and on, and you’ve hardly said a word. How’s work going?”

“I’m busy doing this commercial job for Patricia.”

“I know you get frustrated with those,” Porter said.

It was nice to skip all the stupid getting-to-know-you crap. “I’m totally frustrated. I’m passing up jobs I’d love to do because of it. Jake thinks…” My stomach dropped, and it took me a moment to recover. “Uh, I’ve been toying with the idea of going into business for myself.”

Porter steepled his hands and brought them under his chin. “It’s a bit of a risky economy right now, and Metamorphosis carries a big name.”

“I know. It’s just that Nadine and I pull in most of the clients and I hate working on jobs I dislike while Patricia treats me like I’m an idiot.”

“You’re very good at your job, and Patricia gets that. Starting a new business is hard work, but I know you’ll do whatever you put your mind to. If you need help with anything, all you have to do is let me know.”

The offer to help—and the vote of confidence—was nice, but a good way for things to get messy, since I still wasn’t sure jumping right into a relationship with him was a good idea. The fact of the matter was, I was trying to force myself to move on from Jake. I missed his voice. His cologne. Missed his sense of humor.

And I should really stop thinking about him.

I took a sip of my water. “I don’t think I’m going to do it. It’d be nice, though.”

Porter leaned forward and placed his hand on my knee. “Being here with you reminds me of all the good times we had together. I’m glad you called.”

“I bet your mother will be horrified to know you’re spending time with me again.”