Chapter 1 #3
I didn’t plan on taking it then. I was angry for the way they left London and me behind, but my grandmother said that if I didn’t keep anything from them, I would regret it. Lord knows why I chose their coffee table of all things.
“If this is how you’ve always been, then it finally all makes sense.”
Heat blooms up my neck, and I stop wiping as I stand to face him, this time narrowing my eyes on his. “What suddenly makes sense?”
He lifts his chin, working his jaw. “Your sense of entitlement.”
I take a step back, feeling as if this puny little, Dorito-dusted man child is giving me whiplash.
“I’m not entitled. You’ve seen where I live.” I want to laugh.
In fact, I do. I let out a sarcastic huff of air as I look around, waving my arms at my cheap apartment.
Sure, the paint is chipping and the hot water heater craps out at least once a month, but this place has become my home since the day I graduated college.
It’s the place where I curled into the corner of every room, pouring my heart and soul into my first romance novel.
Every penny I earn working at Charleigh’s flower shop goes to this place. It may be shit, but it’s mine.
“You are entitled. Entitled and pretentious.” Adam sticks an accusatory finger in my direction. “You walk around as if you think you’re better than everyone else in your little yoga outfits.” He gestures up and down the length of my body.
What the fuck is he talking about? “Yoga outfits are pretentious?”
He gives a sarcastic laugh, ignoring my question.
“You think because everyone in that little group of yours are billionaires that it somehow makes you one of them too? Because you aren’t, Selene.
You never will be. You live in this shithole apartment that not a single one of them would ever bother to step foot in.
You’re just as lowly as me—the people who are the blood of this city.
Those billionaires don’t keep this city alive, we do.
To them you’re nothing but another piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their Armani shoes. ”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Adam.
” I try not to let my voice waver because, even though I hate to admit it, Adam’s accusations hit me harder than they should.
I’ve lived a lifetime of trauma, and my best friends are who have kept me afloat for the last decade of my life.
While working at Charleigh’s flower shop isn’t my passion, at one point in time, she was the only person who managed to bring a smile out of me every day.
Then entered Julianna, before London finally moved to New York City permanently.
For a time, my world was isolated and lonely.
But now, even though I may be shy to my core, I’m certainly not lonely. I’m simply grieving.
Adam hurling endless insults my way about my life sparks anger in my gut. Aside from the confusing grief surrounding my parents, I miss my grandmother. Fuck, I miss her.
I cross my arms and stare at him blankly. “We’re over, Adam. Leave.”
He nods and steps over a pile of cans trailing between the sofa and the coffee table. He stops beside me and leans forward, bringing his face closer to mine. I look into his eyes but try not to gag at the smell of stale corn chips when he breathes.
“Your so-called friend Julianna had her one of her cronies drop off a dress for tonight’s auction.” He glances toward the hallway. “I would say I’m surprised you’re going tonight, but I’m not.”
“You’re going to the auction too, so don’t act like I’m someone special. I’m not.”
“I’m going for the paper. It’s my job. What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t owe you any explanation. Especially not after you’ve trashed my apartment and refuse to accept that I ended whatever this was.”
“You’re right, you don’t need to explain.” He holds his hand up, backing away from me and toward the door. “There’s that sense of entitlement I’m talking about. But let me guess… the Capuletis are your friends, and you owe them your support?”
He wraps his hand around the doorknob and jerks the door open, tearing it from the frame. Before leaving, he stops and glances over his shoulder. “You aren’t one of them, Selene. You never will be. When you’re ready to stop playing dress up, call me, and maybe we can try this again.”
Adam slams my door shut with such force it causes the key hook by the door to rattle against the drywall.
A piece of damaged wall flakes off and falls to the floor.
I stare at the door and squeeze my eyes shut when my vision waters.
Despite the strength I have and the mantra I’m repeating in my head, I can’t stop the tears from forming.
Finally, one breaks free, slipping down my cheek.
I’m not sad over my breakup with Adam. I’m relieved.
He's the first person I’ve dated in a long time, and while it sucks that it didn’t last, I’m thankful we’re through.
Maybe we can try this again.
His final words linger in the air, letting me know that if I were to even give him the slightest hint of another chance, he’d take it.
I shudder at the thought. My stomach flips, though it could be from the lingering scent of stale chips and soda in the air.
Once I’ve gathered myself, I open the two windows in my living room to air out the stink, then lock the chain on my front door, just in case Adam made a spare key without my knowledge.
I doubt he would have gone to those lengths, but I wasn’t expecting him to find him lounging on my couch like a vegetable when I got home, either.
Remembering the errands I ran before I came home, I grab my new necklace out of my purse and carry it to my bedroom.
I set it on top of my dresser and find the dress Adam said Julianna’s assistant dropped off earlier.
I shoot a quick text to Marvin, the maintenance manager in my building, to let him know my hot water isn’t working again, then I turn my attention back to the dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door.
I have no idea what it looks like since it’s wrapped in a black bag.
Orange streaks of chip dust coat the outer edges, and I grunt in frustration before I brush them off, then pull the zipper to reveal the stunning dress inside.
Nothing but butter yellow silk fabric pours out.
It reminds me of the gown Kate Hudson wore in How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.
I gasp and check my phone, opening my girls’ chat.
I send Julianna a thank you and preemptively promise to send her a picture of me wearing it once I’ve showered, done my hair, and applied my makeup, knowing she’ll ask for it.
Funny, considering she’ll see me wearing it within a matter of hours, too.
Warmth spreads across my body, the heaviness of today waning with every passing second.
I admire the gown Julianna is letting me borrow, knowing Adam couldn’t have been further from the truth with his accusations.
Sure, I don’t have a lot of money, certainly not as much as my best friends, but I’m capable of taking care of myself.
I can afford my own place, and regardless of the money they have, my best friends are incredible.
They shouldn’t be judged based on how many digits are in their bank accounts.
Adam’s words echo in my mind, though. I’m not entitled or pretentious. Maybe he was hurt that he wasn’t the one for me. I’m still rocked with disbelief that he considered proposing to me… even after I broke up with him.
And society calls women clingy.
A little twinge of guilt sits at the back of my mind for hurting him, though not too much.
I know what I want and won’t settle for just anyone.
The right man is out there waiting for me.
I just have to be patient and focus on what I know makes me happy now.
He’ll come along when I’m least expecting it.
At least, that’s what happens in all the great romance novels, right?
Marvin gets back to me twenty minutes later, letting me know the hot water heater should be fixed enough for me to take my shower now.
So, I turn the water on, sit on the toilet, and wait for it to heat up.
While scrolling through my phone, I pull up the social media post, announcing the auction Julianna’s putting on tonight for Scribe Magazine—her brother Holt’s magazine.
The post has nearly half a million likes. I double tap the heart icon before scrolling through the comments, nearly all of which are asking if Holt will be there and if he’s single.
I mean, I can’t blame them. He’s handsome as hell and has a jaw that could cut glass. His eyes make the muscles on the insides of your thighs twitch with every glance your way. The man is hot as sin if not a little arrogant.
Blinking away my wandering thoughts, I smile to myself. Holt Capuleti will forever be single. He never allows a woman to stay long enough to give the media an opportunity to speculate.
Steam billows out from behind the shower curtain, letting me know I have precisely five minutes of hot water time, and to make the most of it.
Leaving my phone open to Julianna’s auction post, I shed myself out of my pretentious yoga pants and bra and step inside the shower, but not before glancing once more at the buttery yellow fabric spilling out of the bag on the back of my bedroom door.
Pretentious and entitled, my ass.
I just have incredible friends.