Glancing toward my email, I frowned upon seeing a series of messages from Nick. Rolling my eyes, I only bothered to read the last one. I resisted the desire to curl my lip in disgust, though his messages weren’t crude, per se. His desperation was just revolting to me, especially considering he was the one who had thrown everything away. What was it about men that they seemed to think they could always just have their cake and eat it too? I almost deleted the messages without giving them another thought, but as I scanned over the single email I’d bothered checking, I had to swallow a groan. As one could guess, I wasn’t especially thrilled that he wanted to talk things out once school let out for the holiday. I glanced at the clock one more, rubbing my temples wearily. Class would let out any minute now—
Out of some sick, twisted type of curiosity, I clicked open one of his emails. I don’t know why I was torturing myself; I guess part of me wanted to see just how desperate he was to have me back.
Tiffany,
I wish you would just talk to me and let me explain this all to you. For some reason, I think you feel it was against you, but it wasn’t. I just needed to be comforted, and she was there for me. I really do love you, Tiffany, and I hope that you will be kind enough to meet with me for dinner one night and talk this out. I am sure that after you hear my full explanation, there will be no doubt in your mind that we are meant to be together.
Nick
I shook my head at the audacity of his email, knowing that no matter what explanation he came up with, my response should be goodbye.
RIIIIIING!
Yep, there it was. The school bell signaling dismissal sounded right on time, unfortunately for me. I had to stay in the classroom until my students had entirely dispersed, though it seemed a few were in no hurry to do as much. While most bolted out the door, some stragglers stood chatting about what an awesome holiday they were going to have. I could recognize one of my more timid students trying to flirt with the class clown – at least, in what capacity a child could flirt. It was cute in a way, but I could only think of a future where that sweet and studious girl would be cast aside like me.
Forcing a smile, I stood from my desk and strode toward them with purpose. Katie, the girl in question, looked up as she tucked her hair behind her ear. The boy she was speaking to seemed more absorbed in some app on his phone, and I resisted the desire to teach him some manners.
“Well, if you guys are going to have so much fun on your break, what are you doing hanging around here? I know you love school, Katie, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to take a break, just like everyone else. Let that big, beautiful brain of yours get a rest,” I teased, receiving somewhat bashful laughter in response.
“Sorry, Miss Rodriguez. I was just seeing if Brad wanted to hang out over the weekend. My sister is having a birthday party at the ice cream shop, and I thought he might have fun,” she began a bit meekly.
“Like I’d go to some party for babies. Me and the fellas are wasting some newbies on the new release that comes out over the weekend. My mom ordered me online service and everything,” Brad bragged, sticking his tongue out at Katie. Before I could admonish him, however, he continued. “Anyway, I was going to ask if your parents would be okay bringing you to the movie theater to meet me Sunday. I’d rather spend time with just you than a bunch of kids dribbling ice cream,” he smiled, obviously making an attempt at being charming. Embarrassingly enough, it was more charm than Nick had ever shown me. Katie giggled, nodding her agreement. The two of us pretended not to notice the blush creeping up the boy’s neck.
“I’d love to see a movie with you, Brad! I know you have the best taste in funny movies,” Katie fawned, and I could only smirk as he seemed to get flustered.
“T-thanks. Well, I’ll text you when I can convince my mom to give me a ride. I’ll…see ya later,” he trailed off, his voice cracking. I stifled a snicker, and he looked up at me with wide eyes. “I’ll see you too, Miss Rodriguez,” he sputtered before all but sprinting from the room. Katie giggled, obviously enamored.
“What are you doing on your break?” she asked quietly, and I hesitated for a moment. I’d be drinking away my sorrows, though I couldn’t exactly say as much.
“Teacher stuff, as usual. Someone has to make these awesome lesson plans, don’t they?” I lied, having prepared a number of lesson plans ahead of time. But Katie seemed satisfied with the answer, shouting a goodbye before running in an obvious attempt to catch up with Brad. I saw her stop short just outside the door, beaming at someone I couldn’t see. My little class clown bashfully offered his hand, having waited for her. Puppy love was something; I almost found myself wishing I’d ever experienced such kindness.
Sighing at how pathetic I was being, I grabbed my stuff and made quick work of navigating my way to the parking lot. I wished I could outright sprint to my car, but of course, I’d chosen to wear heels today. Vanity was going to be my downfall. I spotted my car in its usual spot, relieved to have made it without running into—
“Tiff!”
Nick. Of course. Risking a broken ankle, I ran the final distance to my car, only to find him there waiting for me. He was smiling that toothy little grin that I’d once found charming, but now only reminded me of a rodent of some kind. Not offering the slightest quirk of my lips, I settled for glaring as I elbowed past him and yanked open my car door.
“I have nothing to say to you. Why don’t you go have a bit of fun with Tits McGee?” I bit out angrily, moving to slam my door shut. He held it open, and as much as I hated him, I didn’t want to get sued for crushing his hands. Not that he knew how to do anything interesting with them.
“I just want to talk. Come over to my place? We’ll have some wine and talk things over. You know I love you, right? I just made a mistake,” he said earnestly. For a moment, I shamefully felt my resolve slipping. He was the first man I’d ever really loved, after all. I’d thought it had been love, anyway. What else could it have been? After a moment of gazing at him, however, I spied a dark hickey on his neck. It was obviously fresh, and I clenched my jaw as I debated actually breaking his hands. A lawsuit would almost be worth it.
“Let go. I’m leaving,” I hissed, turning the ignition on my beat up little car. It rumbled reliably, the one thing I could rely on it seemed. He made to speak again, but I shifted the car into reverse without bothering to shut the door. Nick lurched away, just in time to escape having his feet crushed under my tires, and I closed the door as I sped onto the main street. I just wished he’d been a bit slower as I sped away. It would have been nice to cause him some physical pain. You know, to match the emotional pain he’d put me through. I know it seemed childish, but I couldn’t help it. He had screwed the art teacher in a supply closet. I knew the rumor mill at the school, and I was sure that most of the staff was aware of it. That meant that behind my back, I had people feeling sorry for me.
I could hear it now… “Poor Tiffany. She had him, but damn that big-tittied art teacher stole him.” Okay, okay….so that wasn’t what they were probably thinking as they looked at me. However, no matter what it was, they were most likely feeling pity at my situation. I’ve never really enjoyed people feeling pity toward me. I’ve always been a proud woman, and I hate to think of any guy ruining a bit of my reputation.
Not that I have a reputation. Not that I knew of at school, anyway. I was just the fifth grade math teacher and a friend of the kindergarten teacher. What else would they be passing around the rumor mill? Nick and I had kept our dating under wraps, for the most part. Some of the staff knew, but as far as I knew, the students were oblivious to our relationship. “Not anymore,” I reminded myself. I felt a twinge of pity for myself and wiped it away as quickly as it began.
The whole situation was entirely idiotic on the part of everyone involved. Ms. Hart wasn’t a bad woman by any means, but I felt like saying that she had the IQ of a goldfish was even being a bit generous. All she had going for her were her giant tits and an ass that… at times made me qu
estion my own sexuality, to be frank. Mostly, though, I just felt inferior. I was leagues smarter than the admittedly voluptuous woman who spent her free time smoking weed with high school kids. Unquestionably, if I had her assets, I’d have no problem keeping a man. There was always the option of plastic surgery, an idea I’d considered numerous times in the weeks prior. The idea of getting implants just to impress a guy was admittedly a bit sad on my part, but I tried to tell myself that I was only concerned with my own happiness. Having big tits would obviously contribute to that.
…Who was I kidding?
The drive home was unbearably droll, and I nearly collapsed face down on my sofa as soon as I stepped inside. As I cast a brief glance over my apartment, I was admittedly startled to see a voicemail left on my landline. It was no small wonder; hardly anyone had a landline anymore. The only people who knew about it were my relatives, and even they usually texted me when they wanted to chat. Tossing my bag on the couch, I strode toward the phone and played the message.
“Tiff! Hey, girl! It’s me, your favorite cousin! I’ve decided to hit Vegas for a bit of fun over the weekend, and who could paint the place red as well as the two of us? The flight and hotel room are covered, I’d… just really like to see you. It’s been too long! Call me back,” the message announced to the empty room, and I stared for a moment, worrying my lip between my teeth.
Kari was, indeed, my favorite cousin. My favorite relative as a whole, honestly. It had been over a year since I’d last seen her, though we always had a blast when the two of us got together. Vegas, huh? Maybe it was just what I needed to get over my limp-dick ex-boyfriend. A bit of partying, a bit of dancing, a lot of drinking, and some shamelessly filthy sex with a stranger or two. Yeah, I was sure that was just what I needed. Sex with Nick had never been particularly satisfying, so I’d been sacrificing pleasure for some ill-conceived notion of love. Well, I wouldn’t make that mistake again. If there was anywhere I could get my mojo back, it was definitely Vegas. Having Kari there was just icing on the cake.
Flipping through my cell phone for her number, I idly tapped out a message, letting her know I’d received the call and was one hundred percent down to join her for some fun. I received a series of smiling emojis in response, as well as a time to meet her at the airport. Smiling to myself, I tucked my phone into my pocket and strode into my bedroom to pack. I told myself that I deserved this, that I was entitled to some fun after being wronged in the way that I had. A smaller part of me insisted that I was just desperate to fill a void. I rarely paid that voice any mind, though.
I pictured the feeling I would have at putting Nick completely out of my mind. I would get my vengeance in one way or another on this trip, I was sure of that. My bad, slutty girl side was going to come out and play if I had anything to say about it. I imagined my perfect man: built with nice muscles, not too overwhelming, and a full head of hair. Nick had been balding, and while it had never bugged me, it hadn’t been very appealing to me either. I had looked past it, much like I had his vanilla sex, and just gone with it. I’d always thought that when you loved someone, it meant you had to make a sacrifice sometimes. My sacrifice had been boring ass sex and a balding man.
2
CHAPTER TWO
Archer
Work today day had been exhausting, albeit extremely satisfying as well. The patient who taken up the bulk of my schedule had been in a terrible car accident and was lucky to have even survived. I didn’t know the entire story. She mentioned going on her daily jog, and the last thing she remembered was headlights rushing toward her in the near-dark of the early morning. As I said, she was very fortunate to even be breathing, but the accident caused so much damage that she required full facial reconstruction surgery. She’d been in tears, lamenting how she’d always been so plain but had finally come to terms with her appearance. I couldn’t blame her for her anguish, really. Underneath her bandages, her face resembled ground beef.
It had taken hours of agonizing work to figure out the correct approach before even making the first cut. The surgery itself had taken nearly all day, which I’d worked nonstop. I didn’t want to risk her coming out of anesthesia just so I could grab a quick lunch or something equally as petty. I was starving and exhausted, brain and body fried, but it was worth it in the end. The patient, a young single mother, had been thrilled with the outcome. She went as far as telling me it was better than she’d looked in the first place. Having seen her chart, I knew that to be low self-worth on her part, but I was simply happy to have helped her.
Situations like that were why I got into the plastic surgery field in the first place. Sure, there were the superficial jobs like breast implants or nose jobs, which were admittedly my bread and butter. One had to keep a steady influx of cash, after all, as well as food on the table. It wasn’t glamorous, but glitz and glamor was no reason to get in the medical field in the first place. People were often dismissive of my job, at best, but that didn’t bother me too terribly because there were times like the surgery I’d just completed that proved my work made a difference.
I had a passion for reconstructive work – work that helped people live happier and fuller lives. I extensively studied facial reconstruction in particular, coming up with a number of new techniques being used worldwide. I was one of the best at what I did – arguably the absolute best – and although I got more than the average number of breast implant surgeries, I was also the most recommended plastic surgeon in the country when it came to the more serious side of the plastic surgery spectrum.
With my success, you would think I’d have a proud family backing me up. One would probably think I had doting parents, inspired siblings, a beautiful wife, and maybe even some kids of my own. That was not the case, unfortunately.
While my siblings were extremely supportive of my choices, my father often openly mocked me for getting into such a ‘superficial’ field. He was a surgeon himself, a cardiologist to be specific. He’d wanted me to get involved in something equally “important” – something “meaningful,” like neurosurgery. There was nothing noble about giving women Botox injections, after all.
It was the same song and dance every time I spoke to my father. Didn’t I want to do something worthwhile? Wasn’t I ashamed of being the laughing stock of the medical community? I’d made attempts to argue that I helped people, which was my only concern. He’d only laughed me off, though, dismissing me as making people feel worse about themselves. He seemed to think I went through consultations like a car salesman, peddling the newest and hippest upgrades. I would love to have him visit the office and see what I actually did; however, I knew that wouldn’t change his attitude. He had made up his mind that I was just a worthless doctor and a bad son.
He made my work seem so trivial that even I had the occasional doubt. I didn’t consider myself the kind of person to constantly second-guess himself, and the fact that my confidence was affected at all was almost shameful in itself. But as far as I was concerned. I just avoided talking to him as often as I could without appearing too distant. I mean, I’d like to meet the person who enjoys having his life’s work mocked so openly, and by someone who was supposed to have your back, no matter what.
We weren’t what you’d call an average family, though. I’d been subjected to more venomous voice messages than I could even begin to count, especially when I made a point of not answering the phone. It was like he knew I was avoiding him, even though it would have been just as plausible for me to be swamped with work. I was, to an extent. I’d just always made time to talk to my parents because it just seemed like the right thing to do. His phone calls had been blessedly few and far between as of late, though that was primarily because he and my mother were planning our family’s yearly trip to Maui.
Though I usually enjoyed Maui and had these little vacations to thank for my bronzed skin, I was actually dreading the trip this year. I’d actually been going out of my way to schedule as many surgeries as I could possibly fit into my workload in
an attempt to find an excuse to miss the trip. Maybe that was an immature approach to the problem, but it amounted to very little anyway. I didn’t have any particularly taxing procedures lined up for the following months, and I could finish them in a matter of days if I scheduled them back to back, which my father would have expected me to do in a pinch. Had I really lined up enough appointments to skip the trip, I’d only end up doubling down just to please the old bastard.
My reason for wanting to avoid the trip may have seemed petty to some, though no one quite recognized my situation for what it was. I wasn’t easily wounded emotionally, so the fact that I didn’t want to face my latest ex-girlfriend was arguably laughable. Granted, it seemed odd that my ex was accompanying my family and I on a trip to Maui anyway. In fact, I found it downright baffling. But I wouldn’t miss the trip since it was one of the only times I was able to see my siblings. They would help make this trip a lot better in the long run. And maybe the three of us would be able to figure out what my mom and dad’s hook-up with Jasmine was all about.
In my experience, parents usually took their child’s side on things like breakups. Considering how cruel she’d been to me, I was admittedly bitter that their support was so flagrantly absent. It wasn’t that my ex was a good person by any means. I’m sure my parents recognized her manipulation tactics just as well as the next person could. Unfortunately, it seemed I was going to be stuck in the situation for a long time. Jasmine was the daughter of one of my mother’s closest friends, a kind woman I used to spend afternoons with before she perished in a house fire. Her death had been ruled accidental, although there was some suspicion that her ex had something to do with it. Jasmine had been forced to move in with her estranged father just the same, and my mom had felt terrible for her. I couldn’t blame my mom for being compassionate, and the situation with Jasmine’s mom may even help explain Jasmine’s boorish behavior as a grown woman.
Accidentally Married Page 2
