19
As promised, I was back in time for my first appointment of themorning.
Brianna Thomas—self-proclaimed trophy wife—sits on the opposite side of my office in her pristine Versace dress, every so often flipping her silky, red hair over hershoulders.
“It’s a mess.” She stares at the floor, chewing on her lip. “It’s going to make me sound...” She huffs. “Bad.”
“I’m only hear to listen. Not judge,” I say, focusing on myiPad.
Brianna starts a long-winded story about how she’s fallen out of love with her husband, and while I am sort of paying attention, I’m more fixated on my screen and the list I’m typing out of reasons why I should cut it off with Elijah today, tonight, this verymoment.
I’m pissed at myself for letting it get out of hand. I should have kept on trucking when my shopping cart got stuck on the BOGO bin of granola bars, but no. My dumb ass suggested coffee because that soundedsafe.
I add,He makes me dumbto thelist.
Elijah leaves in a week, so it ends there, but I now realize just how little time plays into emotions. A week in the eyes of love can be eons. I don’t need eons of feelings added to the inevitable heartbreak I’m heading for. And fucking him is absolutely out of thequestion.
“Do you think I made a mistake?” Briannaasks.
I glance up from my tablet with no idea what’s she’s said over the past fiveminutes.
“Well.” I clear my throat. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake?”Good save, Charlie. Goodsave.
“No.” She shakes her head, resolve falling over her face. “No. I haven’t. I think avoiding that conversation was the best thing todo.”
Avoiding. Yes. Avoidance is always the answer. That is all I have to do, avoid him for seven days, then tell himgoodbye.
_____
Seven days,I think when I unlock my door—withElijah behind me. Somehow, the bastard talked me into dinner, and somehow, he finagled his way into walking me home. And now, he’s behind me, waiting as I unlock the door to myapartment.
The lock clicks and I spin around, an uneasy smile on my face as I go to kiss himgoodnight.
“Can I come in?” heasks.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course. I was gonna invite you in and...” I open the door and drop my keys on the entryway table, thinking it’s fine for him to come in, but he’snotspending the night here. Definitelynot.
I show him in, and he stops in the middle of my tiny living room. He looks so out of place in his tailored clothes and perfectface.
“Well,” I smirk as I recall the first time I set foot in his lavish condo. “This isdifferent.”
“What is?” he asks, perplexed when he glancesup.
“A man. In myapartment.”
His eyes crinkles with a grin. I pass the ratty couch on my way to the single-pane window. After turning the tilt wand to the vertical blinds, I mimic the gestureThe Price is Rightmodels do to showcase the amazing prize the contestants are about to bid on. It’s a comical attempt at best to highlight the view of the red-brick apartment building across from mine. “My view isn’t nearly as impressive asyours.”
“But it’syours.”
When I turn, his gaze isn’t directed at the window, but instead at the black and white photograph of my mother displayed on my side table. I step toward him when he picks itup.
He turns the frame around as he takes a seat on the sofa. “Yourmother?”
“Yes.”
“You look likeher.”
“That’s what my grandmother alwayssaid.”
