Delay of Game (Men of Havoc #2)

1. Chapter One

The tissues surround me along with empty takeout boxes while the sound of happy ending rom-coms drone on in the background.

If I’m not going to get my happily ever after, someone should.

Except my ex. He doesn’t deserve any happily ever afters with anyone. Especially not with the so-cliche, boss’ daughter. The same one that he promised me wasn’t going to come between us. The same one that he told me he wasn’t attracted to because he liked a little somethin’ to hold onto. The same one I found the engagement ring for, in my own fucking walk-in closet.

You know what? She doesn’t deserve a happily ever after either.

Fuck both of them.

A knock sounds on my door, pulling me out of my sad pity party .

“I’m not here!” I shout to whoever is on the other side of the door.

“Bullshit, Calliope. Open this fucking door. I’m not leaving this time.”

Ugh. My bestie is on the other side. I toss the blanket I’ve been hiding under for a week onto the floor and shuffle over to the door, pulling my robe closed around the stained pajama tee under it. There may or may not be pizza sauce from… three days ago still there.

Unlocking the door, but not opening it for her is the best I can do before shuffling back to my rot-spot on the couch.

Joy, my best friend since Kindergarten, pops the door open. Her face instantly scrunches at the smell of my apartment.

“Seriously? Calliope, when you said you wanted me to let you have a rot day, I didn’t realize you’d been rotting for a month already.”

She moves pizza boxes away from the other side of the couch and places them on the coffee table.

“I thought it was for me.”

“You thought what was for you?” Her tone softens at the unshed tears in my eyes.

“The engagement ring. When I found it. I thought it was for me. But it was for her. ” Small sobs escape me.

“Oh C, come here.” She reaches out her arms to pull me in for a hug .

I pull myself up, reaching out to her to pull me up the rest of the way. Once I’m leaning on her shoulder I let the tears flow freely, soaking her shirt.

“I just want to forget it all. I want to forget that he ever existed. Erase the last four years of my life. Everything in here is a reminder I don’t want.”

Joy strokes my back in comforting circles. She lets me cry it out, not that I should have any tears left to cry after the last two weeks since Thad left.

I started strong. I went to work at the co-op space, pretended everything was great. Then one day, I came home to hear the alarm we set together on Fridays, the one that signaled it was time for us to stop working and focus on each other.

I haven’t left my couch since. I can’t.

“You can’t let him win. Every second you lay on this couch, you let him win. You let her win. You need to get up,” she sniffs the air, “and shower. Definitely a shower first.”

“I can’t. We used to…”

“Nope! Not going there. Get your ass up.” She slaps my knee and walks away to my bedroom.

I hear drawers opening and shutting, and then the water turning on. Why is she my best friend again?

“Let’s goooo,” she calls from the bathroom.

If I don’t go, she’ll come out here and try to carry me in. But thankfully my week of takeout, and not one vegetable, has only added to the curves I already had. So her and her weight lifting still don’t stand a chance to get me in if I don’t want to go. She also won’t give up, ever. It’s the thing I love most about Joy. Except when it’s directed at me.

I drag myself off the couch and into my bedroom. Slipping off my robe, I get a fresh whiff of myself. On second thought, maybe she isn’t wrong.

The bathroom door opens, and closes. “Okay, your shower is set to scolding lava. The lavender vanilla bomb is in the bottom of the shower, and I’ve set up all your items for you on the shelf. So let’s go. Get that sexy ass in that shower. I’m going to tackle… whatever is growing in the pizza boxes in your living room.”

The embarrassment of her seeing me like this hits me all at once and starts a new onslaught of tears. She’s gotten all of my emotions via texts throughout the week, but I haven’t allowed anyone to step foot in my apartment. Wanting to wallow in my own self-pity without the judgment, or pressure to do more, to be over it already.

“Shower. Go.” She points to the door with her other hand on her hip.

I sniffle but oblige her demands.

Once I’m enveloped by the lavender vanilla steam filling the bathroom, I breathe in deeply. Trying to muster the strength to strip out of my clothes, and get in the shower. But I’m not finding it .

“You can do this. You are a bad bitch. You do not let him win. You are Calliope fucking Miller. And you deserve all the happiness in the world.” I repeat my mantras to myself in the foggy mirror.

Taking a fortifying deep breath, I strip out of my clothes, and step into the steaming hot spray of the shower.

I’m not going to lie, it feels pretty fucking good to wash away the week. I lather up my sea sponge puff with my favorite grapefruit and peppermint body wash. Afterwards, I squeeze my shampoo that is far-too-many-dollars-a-bottle into my hand, adding a little more than necessary.

A secret fuck you to Thad. He complained about the amount of money I would spend on self care products. He would always say why are you worried about how you look now? You let your weight go, why not the rest of you? It was a fight I tried to avoid. Although it should have been a blaring red flag.

A lot of things should have been red flags. I was just so blinded that someone who looked like him, with his status in the world of Houston society would be interested in me, that I let a lot of things slide. A lot of snide comments, a lot of controlling behaviors.

I place my conditioner back on the shelf, coating the ends of my hair. I might not be a size two, but I have a lot of great qualities.

I’m clearly loyal as hell. I own my own business, that is in high demand might I add. My hair is bomb, long dark tresses that curl perfectly without the use of a curling iron in soft waves. My ass is fucking amazing, thanks to all my curves. And I’m a lot more fun than Thad.

He didn’t fucking deserve me, and I sure as shit deserve more.

Sliding the dial until the water turns off, I realize this shower was more therapeutic than anything I’ve done all week. Washing away all the grime feels like the first step in washing Thad out of my life.

I slip into the jeans and floral tee that Joy left on the bed for me. I don’t miss the lacey set she left for me to put on under my clothes. Who the hell is going to see them besides me when I crawl into bed later? Despite questioning her choices, I don’t have the mental capacity to choose my own underwear so I put them on anyway.

One more deep breath and I’m ready to face Joy for the lecture I’m about to get regarding my apartment. And the disaster I let happen over the past week.

I quietly open the door, poking my head out to see where she’s at. To my shock she’s sitting on the couch, flipping through a book I had on the table, a thriller about a woman who went mad and killed her husband .

Opening the bedroom door all the way I stand in shock at how clean my apartment is, she even has a candle going and the windows open to air it out. The air conditioner is probably working overtime, but the smell is better.

“Joy, how did you…? Where is all the tr…?” I’m genuinely speechless.

“Oh, um. I gave no shits about what it was, I threw it away.” She shrugs. “Sorry. Not really though. It had to go.”

“Even my blanket?” I squeak out.

“Yeah. That had… I don’t even know what was on it. It had to go. I ordered you a new one, it’ll be here in three days.” She says without looking up from the book.

“Okay. I guess.” I wander around the apartment, looking at what else was a casualty to her cleaning methods. “What smells so good?”

“Vegetables, Calliope. Vegetables. Because I know you’ve been eating crap all week long, and you need something to fuel your body in order to be a bad bitch. Not a sad bitch.”

Joy loves pulling out her nutrition hobby on me. She does it lovingly though, and never once puts me down about my curves and love of Chinese takeout. She’s quite literally the most perfect human being. I always thought she’d go into the dietician field, but her love of buildings won, and she went into architecture .

“Thank you. It does smell delicious, but you had plans to go out with your coworkers tonight. Don’t feel like you have to hang around here with me.”

She laughs, that fake laugh when she knows she’s about to make me do something I don’t want to do. “You’re coming with, C.”

“What? No. No, I’m not. I’m not ready.” I panic at the thought of leaving my house and being out in the general public.

“Listen. We’re going to eat this roasted chicken breast, and vegetables, then we’re going to go get our tequila on.” She raises her eyebrows before walking over to the oven.

I take my spot at the island as she moves around the kitchen, pulling out plates and food. All of it smells incredible.

She makes two plates, and slides one to me.

The first bite already has me moaning as the flavors she combined burst on my tongue. “This is so friggin'’ good.”

“I know. I made you some extra so you can have a few meals ready and avoid another rot week.” She pops another bite in her mouth.

“I love you. I seriously love you, so hard.” The tears start to well in my eyes again.

“Nope. Put those babies away. We’re done crying.”

I nod, sucking in a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling to make them stop. “Yup. Right. Done. ”

“Good. We’re going to the new club down in the Historic District.”

“Shut up! That’s invite only!” I’ve been dying to try it. I thought Thad would be able to get us in, but even his family couldn’t swing an invite.

She grins, “My boss is buddies with the owner. We were part of the architecture team.”

I slam my hands down on the table, “Bitch, excuse me!”

“I know, I’m so sorry! We had to sign NDAs. We weren’t allowed to talk about the project with anyone! Then this opportunity came up for me to bring you there and show you what I’ve been working on, it was just too perfect to pass up.”

I hop off my stool and rush over, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so fucking proud of you! Congratulations! Oh my God! I’ve been so selfish. Forgive me?”

She pulls back to look at me, “Always.”

“Okay am I dressed right? Do I need more? Less? What is it like?”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a credit card, rolling it between her fingers. “Oh, we’re shopping!”

We both dissolve into a fit of squeals and laughter. I’ve never loved her more than I do right now. This is exactly what I need.

Half an hour later we’re piled into our Uber ride and heading to our favorite boutique which is right down the street from TRNDZ .

As we peruse the racks, a personal shopper helps us find items and starts a dressing room for both of us. I’m losing faith in her though as she continues to add body con dresses to my pile. Something I’ve never once in my life put on or even thought about putting on.

“Ok ladies, your fitting rooms are ready, and there is champagne and strawberries on the table for you. Enjoy!”

She walks away, but I know she won’t ever be too far in case we need something. This boutique knows how to do customer service right.

Joy takes a seat on the bright blue couch, pouring two flutes of champagne. “You first.”

“Why me? Can we do this together?” I pout. Clothes are not my favorite thing to shop for. I hate how every piece magnifies the curves I don’t love.

“Absolutely not. You are going to try on every single dress in there, and I’m going to point out how abso-fucking-lutely amazing you look in all of them while I sip on champagne, and nibble these delectable berries.”

“Fine.” I stalk over to the room with my name on it.

Ugh. Which disappointment do I want to start with first?

I run my fingers over a ballet pink dress that has a sheer tulle skirt with what looks like a bodysuit underneath. I slip the straps off the hanger, and try to figure out if it needs to go up or down my body.

I settle on sliding my arms through straps and shimmying it down my body. The tulle skirt hits right at my hips, making it flare and hit just below my knee.

“I don’t know Joy. This is a lot of my thunder thighs being exposed here.”

“Just come out and show me. Jeez.”

The door clicks open and I step out onto the pedestal in front of the mirrors.

“Holy shit. You look stunning!”

I spin in front of the mirrors. “I don’t know. The skirt is sheer! I’d be denied entry for indecent exposure.”

“Fine. I kind of agree. But you’re still fucking stunning.” She throws her hand in the air pointing at the ceiling. “Next!”

I grab my champagne on the way by and bring it with me to chug before I try on the next option.

After four more dresses, I’m starting to get discouraged. Nothing looks quite right with my big boobs, and equally large hips.

“I’m trying one more!” I yell out while choosing a black body con dress.

I’ve completely lost hope and I’m ready to call an Uber home. Joy agreed to try dresses on with me this time because we’re cutting it close to make it to TRNDZ on time .

The spandex of this last dress I slide up my body, covers me like a glove, hugging every curve. The ruching on the sides pinches in the appearance of my waist. A slit goes up one side of my thigh, and the deep V cut into the off the shoulder neckline shows the perfect amount of cleavage while the thin straps attempt to hold things up, straining for their lives up against the weight of my triple Ds.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I, never in a million years, thought I would like the way I look in this type of dress. But here I am. Even I can’t take my eyes off myself.

A cheshire grin pulls across my face. This is the dress. The dress that defines a woman post-asshole.

I step out confidently, and meet Joy in the center.

“That’s. It,” is all she says to me.

“It is pretty perfect isn’t it?” I sway my hips side to side, the smile never leaving my face.

“Hun, that dress was made for you. Like really made for you.”

The personal shopper appears with a pair of strappy satin purple heels. “These will add the perfect pop of color without distracting from the dress.”

She quietly places them on the couch and walks back to whatever magical land she waits in for us where she just knows the perfect items to bring at just the right time and in the perfect size .

Joy examines every inch of her perfect body in a red satin dress. Of course the first one she tries on looks absolutely perfect for her. “I think I’ll get this one!”

As soon as she says it, a pair of matching red heels show up on the couch next to me, seemingly out of thin air. She joins me on the couch as we both clasp our shoes and stand in front of the mirror together.

Tears well in my eyes for a third time. Only this time it’s out of happiness.

She hugs me from the side and whispers, “You’re so getting laid tonight.”

And for once, I really fucking hope she’s right.