24
Bonnie
Today is my wedding day. And on your wedding day, you’re supposed to look absolutely fabulous.
This morning, in the safety of my bedroom, I looked like a femme fatale.
Heels that scream fuck-me-in-only-these-please.
A tight blue shift dress that accentuates every curve.
Dress hem closer to my hips than my knees.
My long flowing hair teased into curls. Vaguely smoky eyes but not enough to look like I’m out on the town for the night.
Now, outside, I’m not quite as fatale as I’d hoped.
Big stinkin’ raindrops slap the shit out of me, supported as they are by a filthy wind designed to piss you right off.
British weather at its finest.
The wind does its darnedest to pull my dress over my head, expose my good bits to the nation and leave me with a wind-burnt vagina.
When I finally make it into the Lexington building and onto the fortieth floor, I’m less put together than I had hoped, but heads still turn.
Heads actually turn.
Approving looks. Flirty looks. Lecherous looks.
Give it to me; I’ll take it all.
Nisha is hammering away on her keyboard but stops when she sees me. “Nice,” she says loudly, giving me an approving, almost sexual, once-over. “Max’s jaw will hit the floor. Jack’s too.” She smiles innocently. “If you’re interested, but of course, you’re not .”
“Not in the slightest.” I sniff, plopping myself down at my desk beside her.
Nisha knows the whole story of the heavy petting incident followed by sharp rejection on Friday night.
“Sure.” She rolls her eyes as she swivels her chair to face me. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hide away from Jack today because you shouldn’t be alone. I really feel like you’ll have fully moved on after today. What did the therapist say you should do today?”
“Have a helpful one-hundred pound therapy session. I broke up with her.” I smile wryly. “Not only because I’m going bankrupt, but I feel ready to quit now. The sessions haven’t been as useful these past few weeks.”
She nods. “I still think you’d be better going out with Kate and me tonight. Nice meal, a few drinks to take your mind off things?”
“No. I’m going to sit in my PJs, eat my feelings, pour wine down my throat and read smut. I might even wear my wedding dress and do a bit of drunk crying. Maybe I’ll arrange a load of online dates. But tomorrow, I’ll be over it.”
Her lips press together. “I’m not happy about this.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. I’m not going to go all bitches-be-crazy . All you have to do today is distract me.” I lean towards her excitedly. “What the hell is happening between you and Darren?”
I couldn’t believe it when she told me they went for dinner last night.
She groans. “Oh, God. I should know not to shit on my own doorstep, but he’s damn good at sex. He should quit his job at Bradshaw and become a prostitute, he’d be much better at that.”
I smile smugly. I knew this day would come. “But you went on an actual date with him last night. Do you want more?”
She blows out her cheeks. “ He wants more. I just want a fling.”
Why is it so hard for two people to get on the same level?
Take Jack Knight. The guy switches between hot and cold so much I’m dizzy. Does he want me or not?
I glance at my phone clock. “Come on, we’re going to be late. Better brave it and get this over and done with.”
We have a meeting with the Lexington team at 9 a.m. I haven’t seen Jack since he pushed me into his car on Friday night.
I messaged to thank him for the ride, to be the bigger person, but that was it. His message back was simply Glad you got back safe.
The meeting is in the largest boardroom in Lexington. Architecture firms supporting the other phases are there as well.
I walk in behind Nisha, feeling as if I am about to attend a United Nations summit.
Jack leans against the boardroom podium, talking to Sean and other Lexington seniors.
My skin prickles at the sight of him.
Everyone is in a suit but him. He looks sensational. Faded jeans, a white T-shirt complementing his Italian complexion, exposed tattooed arms folded lazily over his chest.
It’s not often he is waiting for us .
I take a seat at the back, feeling my face grow hot as I replay the scene of serving myself up to him on a plate.
The rejection hurt.
There’s a dull chatter as Jack talks to Sean, not in a hurry to greet us.
I turn from chatting to Nisha to find Jack’s dark gaze fixed on my bare legs, where the hem has ridden up. I cross and uncross my legs and his hands tighten around the podium edge.
His gaze follows a path up my waist, burning into me like a red sniper dot. It lingers on my chest and collarbone before finally brazenly settling on my face.
Shit.
The dress worked.
I can’t figure out whether he’s angry or horny. Maybe the two are interchangeable with Jack.
There’s a tic in his jaw as he gives me a nod.
I return my most confident smile and glance away to find Max also staring at me.
Damn, I feel like a total badass temptress. I may not be wearing fake-virginal white today but blue-balls blue works well too.
An attractive blonde enters the room, smiling with dimples that won my ex-fiancé’s heart and stole my honeymoon destination.
Olivia.
All the positive energy is sucked out of me. What the hell is Olivia doing here? She’s not even on the project.
Nisha leans over and whispers, “She must be supporting while Teresa’s on holiday this week.”
When Olivia spots me staring, she looks sheepish but nods. I nod back, summoning what professionalism I can muster.
I suppose Max is fair game. She doesn’t know me well. She doesn’t owe me any loyalty.
A blue diamond around her neck catches my eye. My brain ticks over. I know that necklace. It takes me at least thirty seconds before I register from where.
It’s not a coincidence it matches my dress perfectly.
I dig my hands into the side of the chair, trying to calm myself down.
No. Max wouldn’t do that to me. It can’t be the same necklace.
I found the necklace in his underwear drawer, hidden under Jack’s biography. Max was terrible at hiding things. I was putting his clean socks away and found something hard in one of his socks.
It was beautiful, a blue topaz gemstone on an elegant silver chain. Unlike anything I would buy for myself because I usually wear my hand-made scruffy jewellery.
I thought it was a present. I was marginally disappointed but figured he must have returned it.
That was six months before we de-coupled .
A shiver runs down my spine as if someone has, not walked, but stamped over my grave.
Deep down, when Max told me about Olivia, I knew. I just knew. I knew he was lying months before when a name flashed up on his phone, Oll . Who the hell has a nickname like that?
But my brain refused to acknowledge it and pushed it down.
Now, hit full whack in the face with it, I can’t ignore it anymore.
Max requested the new admin position and Olivia happened to fill it. But that’s because he already knew her. It’s so obvious now.
Max is a cheater.
I stare at his handsome face as he intently listens to Jack.
Fucking son of a bitch.
First my dad, now this. Does everyone lie to me?
Anxiety strikes my chest. A sudden, intense shot.
How many people in this room knew all along? Was everyone talking behind my back?
Does Sean know? Does Jack know? Sweet Jesus, does Kate know?
Keep focusing on your necklace . I white-knuckle the Amethyst crystal hanging from my neck. I knew today would be tough, so I wore a calming stone. I didn’t think it would be this shit show.
If it works for holy men and monks, surely it’ll work for me.
The crystal slides in my sweaty palms, hard and useless. The pain of the crystal’s sharp edges digging into my palm are a mild distraction but not enough.
I’ll die if I don’t get out of this room. There’s no oxygen.
Everyone else looks relaxed, listening intently. How? The more normal they look, the more my anxiety spikes.
Max. Olivia. Jack. I need to get out of this fucking room. That’s the only thing that matters.
People turn curiously as I shuffle past them, trying to look as controlled as possible.
Jack continues talking as he watches me make my way to the top of the room.
“Excuse me, Jack,” I mumble. “I’m not feeling well.”
Without looking at him, I slip past him out the door, clutching my stomach to slow my breathing. I might be sick at this rate.
I know it’s game over. Jack will take me off the project for disrupting another one of his meetings. Or if he doesn’t, Max will.
Max. The C-word was invented for him. And I don’t mean charmer.
The toilets are fully sealed. Practically soundproof, thank God. None of that bullshit where the bottom gap in the door is so big everyone knows your business.
I slump onto the toilet seat, my heart racing.
Was everything about our relationship a lie? Max might not have loved me in the end, but I thought he respected me. I trusted him so openly, it’s scary.
He shat all over my trust.
He must have been seeing Olivia at least six months before we split to give her that necklace. And Danielle ? What the fuck? Did he have a bit on the side of a bit on the side?
How many women did he really sleep with when we were together?
The door to the bathroom opens. I hear footsteps. The heavy footsteps of a man.
Please, God, don’t let it be Max.
I can’t deal with seeing him yet. I need to get my emotions under control, or there’ll be a body pushed out the fortieth-floor window.
The knock on my cubicle door makes me jump.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I cry. Just fuck off.
“Bonnie.” Jack’s low voice comes from the other side of the door.
No. Anyone but Jack.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I need a minute.”
I don’t care if he takes me off the project.
“Let me in.”
“I’m being sick,” I lie. “Vomiting.”
There’s a heavy sigh outside the door. “Please.”
I open the door a few inches to find his brown eyes peering in.
“I have a stomach bug,” I say, forcing a small smile.