3. Jenna
JENNA
I manage to keep the tears at bay until I’m safely at my desk. Prism PR will never spring for cubicles, but at least it’s late and the row of desks is empty.
Truman licks my hand as I sob.
“Oh, Jenna.” Hannah slips a plate of meeting leftovers onto my desk. It’s pasta salad from my favorite deli.
“No, no.” I wave her away when she tries to hug me. “You know I’m a crier. You’re supposed to be helping me break the habit.”
“You had a hard day. And you didn’t cry in Berthy’s office, so you get a sticker for that.” She pats my back. “Did you cry in front of McCarthy?”
“Just barely avoided it.” I lean back in my chair. “I’m not cut out for this PR-consultant life. I can’t wait to get married and have Nathan’s babies, then I’ll never work again. Seven months until the wedding, then I can start living my dream life!”
“Is Nathan going to let you quit work right after?”
“I think he wants me to keep working until we have a baby. We need a bigger place for all the children we want.”
“Something to look forward to, even if it is Nathan.” Hannah dabs at my eyes.
“He’s so horrible. He’s the worst man I’ve ever met.”
“Nathan? I mean, he’s not great, but I think Brock was worse, objectively speaking.”
“No! Nathan is amazing! He’s my dream man,” I say firmly. “I meant McCarthy.”
“Eeeh, your mom’s had some real doozies of boyfriends she’s brought around. At least McCarthy is hot.”
“He is not.”
Hannah gives me a look.
“Fine. Objectively speaking, yes, physically he’s hot. But he has a personality disorder.”
“Sounds like he’s just your type.” Hannah cackles.
I look around furtively. “Bethany’s not here, is she? She already thinks I’m trying to sleep with Prism clients.”
My phone goes off, and Hannah and I both jump like we’ve summoned a demon.
“ She knows. ”
“It’s not her.” I glance at my phone. “Just my stalker.” I’m flippant. It’s a coping mechanism.
Hannah scowls. “I feel like you’re not taking this situation seriously.”
“‘Stalker’ is in quotation marks. If it was an actually dangerous person instead of just Andreas, I’d make more of a stink with the police about not investigating my report.
But it’s not that serious.” I blow my nose.
“Nathan thinks you’re overreacting. Also, when I asked him, he said threatening Andreas to make him leave me alone will just escalate things. So he’s not going to.”
“Well, if Nathan thinks so.” Hannah rolls her eyes. “Then sure, just let Andreas go all stalkery-doo-dah over your life. Sounds like the world’s best fiancé.”
“He’s better than Andreas,” I say in protest.
Yes, I have terrible taste in men. But I’m learning from my mistakes! Hence Nathan.
“He’s not still trying to get you to buy into that timeshare with him, is he? I told you giving him that engagement ring back wasn’t going to make him stop. You should have pawned it.”
More messages stream in on my phone.
“He could kidnap you and sell you for parts to pay off, quote, your half of the timeshare.” Hannah grabs my phone. “Block his ass.”
“No! This way I at least know where he is. In case, you know, he does go dangerous. Which he won’t because I know him. He just wants an audience. He’s not violent. I’m not getting anywhere near as many messages as I used to.”
“That doesn’t look like a stalker who’s tapering off,” Hannah remarks pointedly as more incoming DMs and notifications blow up my phone.
“This is…” I frown. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Hannah peers over my shoulder at the Facebook post I’m looking at.
“He’s dead.” I gasp, slumping into my desk chair and suddenly feeling like I’m going to puke.
“Who?”
“My fiancé.”
“Nathan? Praise Jeebus!”
“No.” I can’t breathe. “Brock. Ex-fiancé, sorry. He—he’s dead. I can’t believe it.”
“Woo! Jenna, our prayers have been answered!” Hannah crows.
“I told you that voodoo doll I bought when I went home to Harrogate over Christmas was legit. He’s gone!
You need to file a claim with his estate.
He owes you—what? Like eighty grand? If you get that cash back, you can go tell Bethany and McCarthy to shove it.
This is amazing. Drinks! Celebration! Life is good! ”
I feel like I’m going to pass out. My vision is blurry with tears as I read the DMs.
“His mom wants me to go to the funeral.”
“The mom that kept hounding you to lose weight so you’d get pregnant easier and would never let you sit at the adults’ table at Thanksgiving because she wanted you to babysit all the family children at the kids’ table? Eff her, and eff her son.”
I’m disassociating.
Dazed.
It doesn’t seem real.
“I loved him so much.” I gasp. “I thought we were going to be together forever. I—I should go. That’s the right thing to do. Right?”
Then why do I feel like the room is spinning as if I just did way too many cheap tequila shots?
“I don’t condone this, and if Prism hadn’t cut our mental health care benefits, I don’t think your therapist would either.”
“I need to do this.” The tears are falling again. “Please, will you go with me? I don’t want to go by myself, and I can’t ask my mom. She thought I was stupid to leave him. And Great-Granny Mavis will just gloat and steal all the funeral cookies.”
Hannah glares then softens. “Fine. But only because I’m here to shepherd you through your healing journey.” Hannah pets my hair.
“Thank you!” I pull up Outlook. “I’ll send a calendar invite for the afternoon so it makes it look like we’re out on meetings.”
“Tomorrow? That’s soon.” Hannah wrinkles her nose. “They don’t have to, like, prep the body or anything? Take a little more time to grieve? I have to go to Portland for the Marner account. Ugh. Well, we’ll go piss on his grave this weekend when I’m back. How about that?”
I chew on my lip. “I don’t know… I should go to the funeral. I was engaged to him. We were going to get married.”
“You loved him. He didn’t love you,” Hannah says flatly. “Brock used you. Now he’s dead because karma is a…” She scans the funeral announcement. “A bus that creams you while you’re riding your one-speed bike.”
I wipe at my wet cheeks. “I thought he was the one. I can’t believe he’s dead. Oh my god.”
“No!” Hannah scolds me. “Do not throw the universe’s favors back in her face.”
“Maybe I just didn’t try hard enough.” I’m panicking. “Maybe Nathan’s going to leave me too. Something’s wrong with me, and that’s why my dad left.”
“Oh, wow, okay, impromptu therapy session, here we come.” She puts her hands on my shoulders.
“You are a kick-ass woman, and you look fantastic in a red lip. You are organized and amazing and a good baker. None of the men in your life see that. Even one of the most powerful men in America said he wants to eat your pussy. That has to count for something!”
“Ugh, that reminds me that I need to shave. I only have one black dress, and it’s a halter top.”