1
Sasha
“IS HE FUCKING SERIOUS?” I throw myself onto my bed, the screams tearing from my throat muffled by the fabric of the pillow that I’ve shoved my face into.
“Sash?” My best friend calls from the other room. “What’s going on? It sounds like you’re being murdered in there.”
I merely grunt in response, my throat aching from my screams. A few seconds later, heavy footsteps shuffle towards my room.
I roll onto my back in time to see Olivia waddling in through the door, one hand against her lower back, the other resting against her very pregnant belly. “Jesus Christ, Sasha.” She drops onto the bed beside me with a dramatic huff. “I thought you were dying!”
“For someone who thought I was about to take a trip to heaven, you sure didn’t hurry.”
Olivia scoffs, “Firstly, we both know you’re destined for hell, and secondly,” She gestures to her bump, “This is as fast as I can go!”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me.
Olivia’s expression softens. “Okay.” She nudges her shoulder against my own. “What happened?”
Without saying a word, I pass her my phone, the screen still lit with the reason for my outburst. Olivia eyes the screen for two seconds before her eyes go wide, the rage pouring out of her. “IS HE FUCKING SERIOUS?”
I laugh at her reaction, though there’s no humor in it. “I know.”
“No.” She shakes her head, scrolling through my phone. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’ll kill him, Sash.” I snort. I thought I was being dramatic. “I mean it. As soon as this baby is out of me, I will kill that bastard.”
“You can’t murder him.” I sigh, resting my hand on her stomach.
“Watch me.”
“You can’t go to prison when this baby girl needs her Mama.”
“I’ve watched a lot of true crime. I know how to cover my tracks.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“You cried because you accidentally stepped on a spider last week.”
“That was different!”
“How?”
“The spider didn’t deserve it.” She mutters, but her voice wobbles as her eyes begin to glisten.
A watery laugh escapes me. Only this woman could make me laugh when I feel like my world is slowly crumbling.
“Come here, babe.” Olivia opens her arm to me and I don’t hesitate. I curl into her side as carefully as I can around her bump, burning my face in her shoulder. The tears I have been fighting finally win, rolling down my cheeks in rapid succession. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”
Max and I broke up eight months ago. It has been the hardest eight months of my life. You would think that would be long enough for life to start making sense again, but instead, I’m still trying to navigate this world without someone who’s been by my side since I was born.
Losing Max was like losing a part of myself and I’m still figuring out how to even exist without him by my side.
I’ve never even lived alone before until now. How pathetic is that? I’m almost thirty years old and I only moved into my own apartment a few months ago.
I went from my parents’ house to university where I had a roommate. From there, I moved straight in with Max.
There was always someone else. There was always noise.
After the breakup, I moved in with Olivia, but now that she’s having a baby, I’ve needed to give her some space.
So now I’m on my own. And the loneliness is louder than any roommate. It’s shit.
Then, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Max has just posted on his socials that he’s engaged. To her. He’s getting married to the same girl he cheated on me with.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” My voice cracks. “After everything he put me through, why is he the one who gets to be happy?” I cry, soaking Olivia’s shirt. “Why can’t I be happy too?”
“Oh, Sash.” She rubs slow circles over my back.
“I’m so sorry.” I don’t know how, but those three simple words make me cry harder.
“What if you tried dating?” She asks gently after a few beats of silence.
“Nothing serious. Just dinner, coffee. Even if it’s just a distraction.
You never know, you might actually find someone you wanna be with. ”
A watery laugh escapes me. “I can’t, Liv.”
“You can.”
“I don’t even know how.” I shake my head. “I’ve never done the dating thing before. Max is all I’ve ever known.”
Olivia blinks down at me, her eyes softening. “I know it’s terrifying. Trust me.” A small wince crosses her face as she places a firm hand at the top of her stomach.
“Is she trying to escape again?”
Olivia groans, “I swear, this child thinks my ribs are a trampoline.” I chuckle, softly.
Olivia will complain at least one hundred times a day that her baby girl won’t ‘get out’ of her ribs.
She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant, bigger than a truck, and can be a raging, hormonal bitch.
I still love her though, more than life itself.
And I’m sure if the roles were reversed, Liv would be considered mild in comparison to the monster I would become.
We’re quiet for a moment, Olivia letting me process without saying too much. She knows that's what I need right now. Quiet. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s really not that pretty.”
“You’re right.” I mumble in response, “She’s actually pretty ugly.”
“Exactly.” We’re quiet again, so many unspoken thoughts swirling in the air between us.
“Except she’s not ugly at all.” I cry harder onto Olivia’s shoulder, her pink shirt now several shades darker from my tears. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Don’t cry, babe.” She says, somehow pulling me closer against her. I’m practically on top of her at this point. “She’s got nothing on you though. You are one thousand times better than she is.”
“You’re just saying that because we’re friends.” I reply, my words broken from the force of my sobs.
“Best friends.” She corrects, “And no, I’m not.
” She pulls back to look at my face. “Sash, you are the strongest, kindest, beautifulest and most loyal person I know.” Liv takes the damp tissue out of my hand, throwing it on the side table before picking up a fresh one and lightly dabs under my eyes, wiping away the stray tears.
“Thanks, Livvy.” We sit in a comfortable silence again for a few moments, my head resting against her shoulder again. My sobs have died down and all that’s left is a few lonely tears rolling down my sticky cheeks. “I don’t think beautifulest is a word.”
“Oh, hush. It is now.”
“You can’t just make up words.”
“I’m pregnant. I can do whatever I want.” That earns her a genuine laugh. “There she is,” she’s smiling now too, looking down at me with admiration in her baby blue eyes, “I’ve been waiting to hear that laugh again.”
I don’t know how long we stay like this, just holding each other, but I’m starting to think Olivia fell asleep. That is until she speaks up once again. “I love you, Sash.”
“I love you too.”
She kisses the top of my head. “One day, some man is going to look at you the way you deserve to be looked at. He’s going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“Thanks, Liv.” Warmth settles somewhere deep inside my chest. I only wish I believed her.
I hate Mondays with a passion. Actually, I hate every weekday with a passion.
Every day follows the same exact script: alarm at 6:30am, gym, shower, breakfast, work, home, bed.
Repeat until death. It’s an endless, mind-numbing, soul draining cycle, made even worse by the fact that I have the dullest job imaginable.
I’m a receptionist.
If you had told me when I started college, studying English and Literature, that in ten years time I would be answering phone calls and booking appointments, I would have laughed in your face.
This is not what I wanted to do with my life. This isn’t the life I had pictured for myself.
I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to create entire worlds, people, places, lives. To create a story that makes people laugh, cry or lose themselves in for a few hours. And maybe, just maybe, seeing my name on the cover of a published book.
That sounds… incredible.
But it also sounds terrifying. Being vulnerable like that, it’s scary. Putting something so personal out into the world? Letting strangers judge it? I don’t think I’d be brave enough. Not anymore.
On the outside I’m always bubbly, friendly, and full of energy. People probably think that I’m confident, that I have a thick skin and don’t care about what others say about me.
The truth though? I am painfully insecure. What people think about me matters a whole lot more than it should and nothing I, or anyone else says, will ever change that.
“Sarah!” My boss, Larry, barks at me in his gravelly voice that irritates my eardrums.
I muster as much politeness into my voice as possible, even though I am sick and tired of being called every name beginning with ‘s’ that he can think of, but Sasha. In all my years working here, I don’t think he’s called me by my actual name once. “Yes, sir?”
“Cancel my ten o’clock with Mrs Hahn. I don’t have the energy to listen to that God awful voice today.” Funny, I’d say the same thing about you.
“Yes, sir.” I pull up today's list of appointments while Larry storms back towards his office without so much as a thank you. Prick. That man is always in a mood. He must have a permanent stick up his ass or something.
Maybe he just needs to get laid. His wife left him five years ago and as far as I know, he’s been single ever since.
Shock. The kind of guys around here like to brag about sex, even though most of them are above fifty and are way too old to be acting like eighteen-year-old boys.
But that doesn't stop me overhearing some of the crude things they say about women.
Larry is the one man who doesn't talk about sex, so I just assume it’s because he isn't getting any. Poor guy.
Poor me. I’m not getting any either. Maybe that’s all it would take for me to get out of this slump. A good fuck. A good orgasm from a man and not from myself. Just thinking about it makes my stomach tighten.
God, I miss having a man in my bed. Someone who can get me horny from just one look. Someone who’s blonde and tall and who looks like a Greek God that has been carved from stone. Someone who plays hockey-
Okay, nope! Absolutely not! Not going there. We are not thinking about him today. Or ever.
Maybe Josh knows someone. I mean, that whole team of hockey players are sex on legs, I’m sure at least one of them would be done for one, uninterrupted, no strings attached night.
As long as it isn’t him. Though, I know he wouldn’t say no to one crazy night in the bedroom. As long as it has a vagina and a heartbeat, that man would be all over it.
Keeping my phone hidden beneath my desk in case Larry appears again, I pull mine and Josh’s text thread. God, it’s like being back at school, hiding your phone from the teacher so you don’t get in trouble.
I type.
Hey Josh, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering if you-
No.
Hey, bro-
No.
Know anyone looking for se-
I let out an exasperated groan and toss my phone back onto my desk in a huff. I can’t ask him that. Plus, he would tell Liv straight away and I can’t deal with an interrogation right now.
It looks like my tragic love life will just have to wait. For now, I guess I should get back to work.