Chapter 17
Priscilla
Doing nothing is self-care.
Especially when the ‘nothing’ is done
in a robe with snacks and zero guilt.
-Cilla’s Post-it note
The buzzing of the phone reaches me. I don’t pick it up. It buzzes again and again. Then stops. Then buzzes again.
With a sigh, I reach for my purse on the bed next to me, pull out my phone, and realize it’s my alarm. I switch it off, and drop it on the pillow next to me. Then wish I could go back to sleep.
The headache knocking against the backs of my eyes tells me I should not have had another glass of wine last night. But I couldn’t resist. Since leaving Tyler’s penthouse, I’ve thrown myself into my job, and accepting invitations to go out from all of my friends.
And yes, I’ve also started using dating apps. Not that it’s helped. Because every man I’ve met has spectacularly failed to live up to Tyler. Argh! He’s spoiled me for everyone else. And I hate that I compare everyone I’ve been on a date with to him.
I’ve ended up cancelling on dates or running out, then coming back home and spending evenings with take-out and a bottle of wine, watching my favorite series on streaming platforms. All in a bid to not think of Tyler and Serene.
The worst times are when there's a baby on a show I'm watching, or a dad who reminds me of Tyler. Then, I find myself tearing up, before scolding myself for my weakness.
It’s hard to believe it’s already been three months since I walked out of his apartment.
Later in the day after I got home, the books Tyler had bought for me had arrived.
It was proof that I hadn’t dreamed up that encounter with him.
Proof that I actually met the man of my dreams and lost him on the same day.
It took me a week before I could unpack the books.
Then I pushed them to the back of my bookshelf where they weren’t in plain sight.
I hoped it would stop me thinking of him.
I’ve tried to keep myself busy, in a bid to rid my mind of thoughts of him.
Not that it’s worked. Unfortunately, my dreams seem to feature him.
And when I'm awake, despite my best efforts, everything seems to remind me of him. I’ve also managed not to peek at the selfie he took of himself on my phone…
Okay, maybe I have peeked… Twice… Fine, a few times. But I’m not keeping count.
I also couldn’t stop myself from looking up the socials of The Sp!cy Booktok. I checked out the picture of the two of us Giorgina had posted online. We looked so happy. We looked like we were a couple. But we’re not. He’d made that clear.
Only good thing? I’m proud to say that I've stopped myself from reaching for my phone and calling him. If I did that, I’d never forgive myself. He has my number.
I hope he’s doing okay with Serene. I’m sure he is. He’s resourceful, after all. Of course, I wonder how he’s coping with her. Taking care of a child is a big responsibility.
I’ve been through the denial phase. And the angry phase. Then the bargaining, and the sad phase. I think I’m easing into the acceptance phase now. At least, I hope I am.
Then again, the mere fact that I still find myself fantasizing about a life with him belies my hope that I'm ready to move on. They say the stages of grief are never sequential. But I don’t want to spend any more time feeling upset about what happened.
Clearly, Tyler didn’t want me in his life.
He felt a connection to me; that much, I know.
But Serene arriving when she did took up a lot of his emotional resilience.
He wasn’t able to think past the necessity of having to figure out what to do about her.
He seemed convinced he wouldn’t have time for a relationship while he had to sort out the situation with Serene.
A part of me doesn’t blame him. That’s one heck of an emotional sucker punch he was dealt. Of course, he could have shared some of his feelings with me. But… It’s not like we were in a relationship. Not really.
Hell, we weren’t even dating. In fact, it’s not like we even had a one-night stand because we didn’t sleep together.
We…fooled around a little. No, it was more than that.
We had an intense connection. And I loved talking to him.
I loved spending time with him. He was gorgeous, stunning even, and he swept me off my feet.
And if Serene hadn't come along—I shake my head. I won’t think about that.
I gave myself a few days to nurse my broken heart—then tried my best to move forward.
I told myself that if he wanted to call me, he would.
If he really wanted to reach me, nothing was stopping him.
But he hadn’t. And I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him.
I decided to focus on myself. My life. I'm going to look out for me from now on.
I am not going to let a six-foot-four-inch, sex-on-a-stick man occupy my thoughts and overrun my life.
Today isn’t just a fresh start. It’s a full-blown rebrand.
Sure, it sounds like something you’d find on a mug at a wellness retreat, which it is, but today, I’m claiming it. Because the alternative? Curling up like a sad cliché in last night’s mascara, watching my heartbreak on a loop is not acceptable.
Yes, I met someone who cracked me open. Yes, I lost him. And yes, I’m still standing.
I have my health. And clean hair—I sniff the strands and make a face—mostly. And the roof over my head—barely. That’s practically enlightenment.
So no, I’m not falling apart.
Today, I’m the CEO of my own damn energy.
As for manifestation? I’m making her my bitch. So what, if I did attract the man of my dreams and lost him within twenty-four hours? I’ll simply have to try harder next time.
And if I have been self-sedating with wine? Well, I owed it to myself. But I’m done with that now. I stumble into the bathroom, grab the aspirin, and swallow down two of them with tap water. Then I brush my teeth and head toward my tiny kitchenette to make myself a cup of coffee.
By the time I’ve downed it, I feel better.
The intercom buzzes. I frown. Who could it be?
I’m not expecting anyone. It can’t be him, could he?
My heart somersaults into my throat. Ugh, I hate that I’m so excited at the thought.
It’s definitely not him. Calm Down. I purposely slow my steps before I head over to answer it. “Hello?”
“It’s Toren.” My brother’s voice comes over the receiver.
I slump, half in relief, half in disappointment. “Come on up.” I buzz him in, then head into the bedroom to pull on a sweatshirt before returning to open the door.
I survey the tall, broad-shouldered man who brushes past me and into the apartment. He looks around, and when he turns to me, there’s a look of distaste on his face. One I choose to ignore. Nothing but the best for Toren Whittington.
My little, one-bedroom apartment doesn’t measure up to his standards, but it’s more than enough for my needs.
"What are you doing here?” I frown.
My brother doesn’t bother replying to my question. Typical Toren. He’s the quintessential rich billionaire, who acts like a prick and is not even aware of it. He’s always been so self-assured; he oozes confidence from his pores.
He looks at me closely, and his brows draw down. "You look terrible,” he drawls.
“Gee, thanks?” I toss my head, then grab my now cold cup of coffee, walk over to the kitchen sink, and dump it in. "Want some coffee?"
Without waiting for his answer, I top up the cafetière fresh coffee grounds and switch on the kettle.
"You’ve lost weight since I last saw you." I can hear the accusing tone in his voice and resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Given the fifteen-year age difference between us, Tor’s often felt more like a father than a sibling. To his credit, he also supported me when I wanted to leave home at eighteen and fend for myself. My father was upset, but my brother stood up for me.
He hasn’t interfered in my life or offered to bail me out the many times I came close to losing the roof over my head, which only made me respect him more.
Which is why, seeing him today is a surprise.
We’ve kept in touch on the phone and the Christmas dinners I’ve gone home for.
He checks in on me by text message and insists on taking me out to dinner every month.
But this is the first time Tor has come to visit me.
I pour the now, almost-boiled water into the cafetière, stir it, then slide the plunger down without depressing it fully, and turn to him. "What brings you here?”
“You missed our dinner last night.”
"Huh?” I’m normally good at keeping track of my appointments, both work and social.
I walk into my bedroom and pick up my phone from the nightstand. I check my calendar and, sure enough, dinner with Tor shows up as an entry under yesterday’s date.
“Sorry, I’m not sure why that happened.” I turn to find him leaning a shoulder against the doorway. “Guess I was—uh— preoccupied.”
“Hmm.” He slides a hand into his pocket.
“What’s the hmm for?”
“I know we had this dinner planned for a while. But you’ve never agreed to meet and not shown up.”
“So, you felt you had to check on me?” I turn back to the cafetière, pour out a cup of coffee for him, and refill my own, then walk over and hand him his cup. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
His expression gentles. “You’re a strong, independent woman who I’m very proud of, you know that.”
My anger fades. “Thanks, big brother.” I take a sip of my coffee. “I’m sorry I missed our dinner. Time just got away from me, that’s all… I promise, I’ll make the next one.”
“Hmm.” He studies me again, eyes sharp with something unspoken.
“There’s that hmm again. I’m getting the feeling this visit isn’t just about checking in on me.” I walk over to the tiny breakfast nook and slide onto a stool. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
He walks over to place his coffee on the counter opposite me. “You mean, I can’t drop in on my sister and say hi?”