THE DEFIANT LADY (27 page)

Aidan took my hand and led me outside. “I’ll send Caleb a text. He’ll show it to Annie and then she won’t worry that you went off into the night with a stranger.”

“You’re a pretty nice stranger,” I commented. He didn’t let go of my hand, but I found I didn’t care.

Tequila was swell.

“Sometimes, you just need someone to be really nice to you,” Aidan said.

“Amen.”

“So this job you had, what was it?”

“I edited text book copy.”

“That sounds…”

“Boring,” I finished for him.

He smiled. His adorable, cute smile. “Boring, yeah. Was it your dream job or did you stumble into it?”

I shrugged. “Tripped into it, I guess. When I moved up here after college, I worked at a temp agency. One day I was sent to Hanlan and Sons and three months later, they hired me on full time.”

“And the boyfriend—was he your dream boyfriend or did you trip into that, too?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Okay.”

We walked a few blocks in silence until we arrived at an old brownstone. He unlocked the front door and let me into the vestibule before opening the second door. I followed him across the black and white tiled lobby floor to the back stairs, which he took two at a time, his long legs moving faster than mine. By the time we got to the sixth–and final–floor I was winded. Maybe I should start jogging. Or do Crossfit. Yeah, right. I’d rather do cross
sit.

“Sorry, things are a bit messy,” Aidan said, pushing open the front door.

“It’s not so bad,” I murmured as I looked around. Old brown couch, white walls, rock and roll posters. Cluttered, but clean—way cleaner than I expected from two guys.

“Want something to eat? Or drink?” He kicked off his shoes and threw his keys on the coffee table.

“Water would be good,” I said, starting to regain feeling in my face.

Aidan headed to the kitchen, and a moment later I heard the faucet being turned on. He returned and handed me a full glass. I took a few swallows and then clutched it in my hands.

“This is the part where I show you my room,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

His room was big enough for a double bed and not much else. There were a few pieces of clothing on the floor, but Aidan didn’t make a move to pick them up. The walls were lined with classic movie posters:
Casablanca, The Godfather, Scarface
.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, going to his dresser drawer and pulling out a white Hanes undershirt and some boxers for me to change into.

“Thanks.”

I went to the bathroom, put on Aidan’s clothes and then quickly finger brushed my teeth to remove the taste of tequila pineapples. Turning off the bathroom light, I went into the living room and saw that Aidan was making up the couch. He’d stripped down to his boxers, showing a defined, lean build.

He was being a gentleman, but I so didn’t want to be a lady.

“You should sleep in your own bed,” I said.

He looked up from unfolding a blanket. “I don’t mind crashing on the couch.”

“That’s sweet, but really, I don’t feel right about kicking you out of your own bed.”

“Well, there is another option.”

“Yeah?”

“We could share my bed. If you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Me?” I choked out. We laughed and some of the awkwardness dissipated. I sighed. “I guess that would be okay—sharing your bed.”

We headed back to his room and got comfortable on our designated sides, careful not to touch each other. I settled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “Aidan?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” he asked sleepily.

“Thanks for making this shitty day not so shitty.”

“Welcome,” he muttered before falling asleep.

Chapter 3

Prosecco [pro-sek-oh]

1. A sparkling white wine from the Veneto region of northeast Italy.

2. Italy’s version of champagne. Not a fan.

The moment I woke up, I knew two things. One, Aidan was wrapped around me like a candy wrapper. And two, even my teeth were hungover.

I’d never done the wake-up-with-a-stranger morning and all that awkwardness. At twenty-seven, I didn’t really want to learn. I gently removed Aidan’s arm from across my stomach. Thankfully, he didn’t stir. He looked good when he slept. And I meant so good that I was having to stifle the urge to lean over and stick my finger in one of his cheek dimples.

Yeah. The dude had
dimples
.

Before that feeling overtook me, I got up, changed back into my clothes, and tiptoed out into the living room. Everything was quiet and I wondered if that meant Caleb hadn’t returned yet. Knowing Annie, she’d kick him out as soon as she woke up. At least she let her conquests stay the night. Nice of her.

Rifling through my wallet, I found $38.43 and left it on the coffee table. I scribbled on a piece of junk mail,
‘Thanks for the tequila’
before slipping out of his apartment.

I had a bajillion missed messages and voicemails. All from Matt. I continued to ignore them. Some time around eight the night before, I’d turned off my phone. Unfortunately, my silence hadn’t been a deterrent to him.

I texted Annie.
Diner? Now?

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.
Corner of 86
^th
and 1
^st
. 10 minutes.

I was close to the diner, and when I arrived there was a lull in customers, so I managed to score an empty booth right away. I ordered two cups of shitty, watered-down diner coffee, sipping mine while waiting for Annie. She strolled in a few minutes later, wearing large Old-Hollywood sunglasses. She slid into her seat and said, “You look like I feel.”

“That good, huh? At least I didn’t throw up.”

“I’m surprised. You were blitzed.”

She took off her sunglasses and set them aside, exposing bloodshot eyes and reaching for her cup of coffee. “So what happened with you and Aidan?”

“Nothing. What happened with you and Caleb?”

She grinned. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re not a lady.”

“Damn right. We hooked up.”

“Did you exchange phone numbers?”

“Nope. Did you exchange numbers with Aidan?”

I shook my head. The waitress came over, snapping her gum. We ordered without even looking at the menu. Diner food was standard in New York City. After my third cup of coffee, I was beginning to feel a little less zombified. I started thinking about my game plan for the day.

“I have to go back to Brooklyn and deal with the apartment and Matt. But I don’t want to deal with Matt.”

“It’s a Tuesday—he’ll be at work.”

“That’s the hope. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could wave a magic wand and all of that cheating bastard’s stuff would be out of my place?”

“That would be nice, but what are you actually gonna do about him?”

The waitress set down a stack of pancakes in front of me and eggs in front of Annie. I picked up my fork and said, “I really have no idea.”

I walked into my apartment and listened for any unusual sounds. There were no laughs coming from the bedroom, which made me thank my unlucky stars.

Matt’s clothes were still in the drawers, his shoes still by the door. My first order of business was to call a locksmith. The apartment was a perfect one bedroom, rent controlled, and had been mine before Matt moved in. He cheated, so he would be the one to move out.

While Matt was at work and I waited for the locksmith, I loaded up all of his stuff and shoved it haphazardly into suitcases and boxes. I stripped the bed of sheets now stained with betrayal… and something else.

YUCK.

Matt could have them.

By four in the afternoon the apartment was fairly cleaned out, all of Matt’s belongings were in the hallway, the locksmith was gone, and I was nursing a glass of wine. Now that I was unemployed and boyfriend-less, there was no one to care if I became a lush. Becoming a lush was rapidly turning into my new life goal.

I heard a stream of curses as Matt saw his belongings in the hallway, followed by an attempt to use his old key in the new lock.
 

“Sibby? Are you home?” Matt called, pounding on the door.

“Go away!” I shouted. “You don’t live here anymore!”

“Come on, Sib, open the door!”

“No! Take your crap and go! I gave you and your new boy a present. Enjoy the sheets, you tool!”

I continued to drink and turned on the TV, cranking the volume when the knocking on the door increased. Eventually, Matt got bored and gave up, and I got drunk enough to pass out.

I woke up around 11:00 PM. My mouth was a bit dry, but I seemed to have slept off any oncoming hangover. I got myself a glass of water and went to the front door. Without removing the chain, I opened the door and peered out into the hallway. No sign of Matt or his stuff. I gave a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t have to deal with him if I didn’t have to see him.

There was no food in the fridge, so I put on my skull and cross bone leggings and grabbed my purse. I headed to the corner bodega and nabbed some staples.

By which I mean junk food. Lots and lots of junk food. Epic sugar coma here I come.

I shoved the Matt situation back into a closet and closed the door. I’d deal with the butt load of issues from his betrayal later. I hadn’t given much thought about the job I’d lost. It was a paycheck, but not much else. I’d been a theater major in college with a creative writing minor, but when I moved to New York, I needed a job that paid. Editing psychology textbook copy wasn’t very fulfilling but it was steady income. End of story.

I got back to the apartment and made myself some dinner. My phone buzzed and I grimaced, thinking it was Matt. I had deleted all his messages and voicemails. There was no point listening to them. What could he say? Sorry I cheated? Sorry you caught me? Sorry you don’t have a penis?

Man, I needed shoes to go with all my baggage.

It wasn’t Matt, it was Annie.

“Hey.”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“My apartment.”

“Come out.”

“What? Are you crazy? It’s almost midnight.”

“Come on. You’re single now.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” I insisted. “I started drinking early and already passed out once. I made some food and then I plan on going back to bed.”

“Wow, that’s what I call depression.”

“I’m not gonna even deny it.”

“You hear from Matt?” she asked.

“He came by earlier, but I had already thrown his stuff out into the hall and had the locks changed. He’s gone now.”

“Way to be proactive. You sound remarkably composed. Shouldn’t you cry over your broken heart?”

I paused. “You’d think so, huh? I still don’t really know what to think—or feel, for that matter.”

“Hmmm.”

“That was a loaded ‘hmmm’.”

“I wonder if your heart is even broken at all or if it’s just your ego.”

“Broken ego?” I mulled over. “Yeah, sounds about right. How did I not know he was gay? Come to think of it—how did
you
not know he was gay?”

“It wasn’t like he did anything flamboyant. And the guy is into sports.”

“I feel like an idiot,” I said. “Yeah, this is all about my pride.”

She was quiet for a second. “If you change your mind and want to come out—”

“Thanks, but I think I’m in for the night. I’ve got an early morning appointment tomorrow.”

“Oh? For what?”

 
“I’m going to see the gynecologist—and let me tell you, I’m so not looking forward to
that
conversation.”

“Just do it before you’re in the stirrups,” she recommended. “It’s hard to keep your dignity when your legs are spread.”

“You would know,” I teased.

“Bitch. I’ll allow it, though. Your life kinda sucks.”

“Great. Now you pity me.”

“Do something nice for yourself after the doctor. Get a mani-pedi, or a massage.”

“I’m getting my hair cut.”

“Tell them your story and maybe you’ll get a free scalp massage. Just do me a favor. Don’t chop off all your hair. No pixie cuts.”

“I did that once and looked like a Q-tip head. No danger of that happening again.”

“What about that new hipster haircut—where half your head is shaved and half of it is long?”