Chapter 2 Wine, Thongs, and Reorganization Therapy #2
Mindy had mocked her once for the uniformity.
“You dress like a sexy undertaker,” she’d said, sprawled across the bed in one of her neon crop tops.
Evelyn had taken it as a compliment. The board took her seriously in these suits.
They didn’t see a grieving daughter playing dress-up in her mother’s company, they saw a CEO.
She ran her hand along the empty rail where Mindy’s clothes had hung. Sequins and leather and ridiculous statement pieces that screamed for attention. Evelyn’s wardrobe whispered. It was better that way.
“You know,” Maggie called from the ottoman, “you could buy something fun. A little colour. Maybe a floral print.”
“I’m not a floral print person, Mags.”
“You used to be. I’ve seen the photos. University Evelyn wore tie-dye.”
“University Evelyn also thought J?gerbombs were a food group. We don’t talk about her.”
Maggie laughed, but there was sadness in it. Evelyn pretended not to notice.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “You’re a cliché, Evie.”
“Only if I alphabetise the shoe boxes.”
“You do that already.”
“Point stands,” Evelyn said, marching into the walk-in. She pulled the first of the empty boxes down and started rearranging, her movements brisk and businesslike. Maggie followed, sat herself on the vanity chair, and provided colour commentary.
“Are you ever going to get another girlfriend, or just fill the spare room with more suits?”
“I don’t date for at least three months after a breakup,” Evelyn said, stacking her blazers by colour.
“You have a spreadsheet for your romantic life?”
“It’s on the cloud,” Evelyn said, straight-faced.
Maggie snorted. “You’re a psycho.”
“I’m organised,” Evelyn replied.
They worked through the closet, Evelyn’s focus unwavering, Maggie’s banter getting looser as the Pinot took hold. By the time they’d filled four bags and a small bin with the detritus of Mindy, both women were tipsy and a little slaphappy.
“I dare you to wear one of her dresses to work on Monday,” Maggie said, holding up a sequined cocktail number that looked like it had been designed by someone with a glitter fetish.
“I’m the CEO of a family company, Mags. I can’t show up looking like a Christmas ornament.”
“Pity. It’d shake the board up.”
“They’re shaken enough by my existence.”
Maggie grinned, clearly picturing it. “I think you could pull it off.”
“I’d rather not.”
When the last box was organised and every hanger aligned, Evelyn stood back and let herself breathe for the first time in hours. The closet looked empty, but also full of possibility.
Maggie plopped down on the ottoman, kicking off her boots. “I take it you’ll be sleeping alone tonight?”
“Alone is good.”
“If you need me, I’m a WhatsApp away. Or, you know, I’ll just show up unannounced like I always do.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Evelyn said, allowing herself a small smile. “You’re a pain in the arse, but you’re my pain in the arse.”
“Damn right.” Maggie stood, wobbled a little, then steadied herself. “I should go before I start making calls to my own exes.”
“Do you want a cab?”
“I want more wine, but yes, a cab would be great.”
Evelyn made the call, then walked Maggie to the lift. They stood in silence for a moment.
“It gets easier,” Maggie said, tone unusually gentle.
Evelyn nodded. “I know.”
“Goodnight, Evie.”
“Goodnight, Mags.”
When Maggie left, Evelyn went back to the dressing room and stared at the new order she’d created. The closet was just hers now. Her suits, her shoes, her space.
She finished the last of the Pinot Noir standing in the doorway, let the city lights glare through the window, and imagined what it would be like not to have to make space for someone else.
It wasn’t as lonely as she’d thought it would be.
Evelyn caught her reflection in the darkened window—hair still perfect, makeup barely smudged despite the wine and the tears she hadn’t let fall.
The Ice Queen, Maggie had called her. Evelyn wondered when that had become her default setting.
When had she decided that being untouchable was the same as being strong?
Her mother had never been cold. Roslyn had loved loudly, messily, with her whole heart.
She’d cried at commercials and laughed at her own jokes and hugged strangers at the supermarket.
She’d built an empire, yes, but she’d done it with warmth.
Evelyn had inherited her mother’s business sense, but somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten how to inherit her zest for life.
Maybe that’s why Mindy had cheated. Not because Evelyn worked too much—though she did—but because Evelyn had never really let her in. She’d kept Mindy at arm’s length, the same way she kept everyone. Safe. Controlled. Lonely.
Evelyn pressed her forehead against the cold glass and made herself a promise: the next person she let into her life, she’d let in properly. No walls. No spreadsheets. No three-month waiting periods.
She’d try to be braver, the way her mother had been brave. But not tonight.
Tonight, she’d finish the wine and go to bed and wake up tomorrow and deal with it then.
One day at a time. That was manageable.
She went to bed, the sound of snoring absent for once. It took a long time to fall asleep, but she didn’t mind the silence.
In the morning, she’d wake up and start over. Maybe she’d even have time for a proper coffee.
And that, Evelyn decided as she drifted off, was reason enough to be okay.