by Bella Forro
I fought the urge to huff over the fact that I’d been standing in the hallway like an idiot knocking on their doors per the original agreement. I took two breaths I hoped would be calming.
“I thought we were meeting by your rooms,” I said instead, trying for as much tact as possible while also not apologizing for something that was, most definitely, not my fault in the first place.
Tina was playing with a brochure she’d picked up. “No, pretty sure we said we were going to meet here. Right here. At the bench.” She said the word bench like it was significant, somehow.
My face flamed, and they studiously avoided making eye contact with me.
Everyone there knew that hadn’t been the agreement at all. It was written all over their faces, in the stiff way Marie was holding her shoulders.
This was not the best way to start a day I had to spend with them. A day I didn’t even want to spend with them, to begin with.
“Anyway,” Marie said overly brightly, leaping to her feet as though something had stung her. “We have a lot of shopping to get to, so we might as well not argue about where we were supposed to meet, and instead get on our way.”
With that, she flounced away, and the others were quick to follow.
I trailed behind them, wishing the day were already over instead of just starting.
We were on our third store.
So far I’d managed not to buy anything without it being obvious that I was trying not to buy anything, which was a huge victory in itself.
But, my luck was running out.
This time, between Rebecca and the salesperson, there was no way I was going to be able to get out of buying a pair of sunglasses. And I was trying not to be unhappy about it because I did really like them.
I would have bought them, anyway, I told myself.
And, I knew it would make Mark happy to see I’d spent some of the cash he’d given me.
I pulled out the envelope as discreetly as possible, trying to keep it tucked fully in my purse and pulled out a few bills.
Rebecca didn’t say anything about it, and I hoped maybe she hadn’t noticed.
I took a moment to tuck the sunglasses into my bag and answer a text from Cassie.
But apparently, it was a moment too long, because when I turned around, the others were nowhere to be found.
I couldn’t help the little feeling of relief that swept through me. If I was very, very, lucky, maybe I wouldn’t be able to find them, and I could head happily back to the hotel by myself and recover at the bar.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be.
I stepped through the door and spotted them immediately across the street, turned in toward one another like they were having a serious, secretive conversation, their heads twisting this way and out, sending their shiny hair in every direction.
“Hey,” I said as I approached them, thrilled to have a shopping break.
They stopped talking.
Which was a dead give away they had been talking about me.
I pulled a chair out at the table, just thankful they’d actually remembered to get a table with a place for me to sit.
I was grateful for the lunch break. Not that I had much of an appetite at all. But, still. Anything was better than what we had been doing.
Of course, the restaurant wasn’t really my cup of tea, but we were seated outside on the veranda underneath an umbrella, and a cool breeze was moving through, so at least there was something about it I could enjoy. I needed to focus on all the good things that happened today — I was going to need each and every one of them.
I picked at the salad I had ordered, and I noticed I wasn’t alone. Two of the girls had split an order of canapés and a side of steamed broccoli. Rebecca had ordered a piece of salmon.
Lunching at its best, really.
I wasn’t usually the kind of girl who wanted to drown every misery in a pint of ice cream, but I was officially daydreaming about sneaking back to the hotel and doing just that.
The conversation was stilted, at best, and I excused myself for a desperately needed break.
It wasn’t that I really needed to use the restroom, but I really needed a few minutes to pull myself back together.
I locked myself in a stall, feeling an incredible surge of satisfaction as I slid the deadbolt into place.
I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket to send a hurried text to Cassie — just to tell her I was definitely not the one she should be jealous of this weekend.
I also noticed I hadn’t heard a peep from Mark.
It was probably best to not think about that right now, all things considered. It would just fester inside of me until we had another contentious spat like the night before.
And, again, I needed to focus on all the good things, instead of letting all the bad creep up on me.
I took a deep breath and exited the stall, telling myself I had hidden in there long enough and eventually people were going to start noticing I hadn’t returned.
I thought I might have a few minutes to wash my hands and check my makeup alone, but Marie was at the counter, running a fresh coat of lipstick over her lips.
She met my eyes in the mirror and stopped applying the lipstick long enough to give me a smile.
I tried to smile back, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I have to ask,” she said after a moment where there was nothing but the sound of the water running as I washed my hand. “I’m so sorry if it’s rude, but, what’s it like?”
I turned off the water and looked at her, waiting for the second part of the question.
“What is what like?” I finally asked.
She actually blushed, and I had a sinking feeling that anything that might cause that wasn’t going to be a good thing at all.
“You know.” She dropped her voice dramatically and gave a hurried look around, as though there might be someone else hiding in the bathroom, desperate to listen in on our consecration. “Being an escort. It’s so Pretty Woman.” She put her hand to her chest and gave an exaggerated sigh. “And Mark is the perfect guy for that role, too.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. And I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open, too.
Now she was crimson. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I was just curious, you know?”
“I’m not an escort,” I said tightly. “I work in marketing. I’m just a girl who is dating Mark Pierce.”
I turned on my heel and left the bathroom, the door swinging fiercely behind me.
These women were never going to like me. I was never going to be on the same level as Mark Pierce, his friends, or any of his business partners.
This whole trip was just a fiasco.
Chapter 18
Victoria
I’d been taking refuge in our hotel room for hours.
Fortunately, I hadn’t had to suffer much beyond that meeting with Marie in the bathroom.
By the time I made it back to the table, we were closing out our bills, and Rebecca was stifling an insincere yawn and saying she could use a rest before we met for dinner.
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
I’d beaten a hasty retreat to my room, kicked off my shoes and flung myself on the bed.
It literally felt like everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, and I was ready for it to be over.
Unfortunately, we weren’t even close yet.
By the time Mark made his return he had only enough time to grab a quick shower and pull on some fresh clothing.
“How was today?” he asked, leaning in toward me and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I blinked rapidly. “It was awful. Horrible.”
He gave my arm a little squeeze and ushered me to the door. “Come now; I can’t believe it was that bad.”
“They all think I’m having sex with you for money. Like Pretty Woman.”
I had the satisfaction of seeing his face blanche just a little, and it took him a moment to come up with a response �
� no more of those little chin up pep talks on the tip of his tongue.
“I’m sure that was just a misunderstanding. You know, we go pretty far back, and they’re all just protective and misguided.”
He tipped his head to the side like he was trying to get a better view of me. “You did tell them you weren’t a prostitute, right?”
I smacked his shoulder with my hand. “Escort was the word they used, and yes, of course, I did.”
“Well, then, that’s been resolved, and we don’t need to hold on to it a moment longer. What do you say we get going so we aren’t late?”
He was already pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway, and I was steeling myself for dinner the same way I would if I were going into battle.
I had never been more thrilled to return from such a potentially amazing vacation.
It should have been the kind of trip you talk about for years — the beautiful hotel room, the gorgeous view, the amazing everything.
And instead, all I could do was think about how much I had hated the people we had been with and how they had made me feel.
I’d tried to console myself with all the great things Mark was, and all the fun time we had together and what a great fit it seemed like we were when we weren’t trying to compete with everyone else and how they thought we should be.
But it was really hard. And it seemed like it was only getting harder to do.
I thought those things were going to be enough, but now it didn’t really feel like it would be.
Even if I wanted it to be.
I was sitting on Mark’s bed, playing with the edge of the comforter while he took a shower.
It was good. I needed the time to think without him, and I was desperate to get back home to my own space with my own things.
I was probably going to have to spill it all to Cassie, and chances were she wasn’t going to want to wait patiently to hear the details. But once they were out there I was sure she was going to be ready to do whatever I needed.
Not that I was sure what that was quite yet, but I would figure it out eventually.
I couldn’t wait for Mark to get out of the shower. And I was also dreading the moment he did.
Everything was becoming much, much, too real.
I heard the creak of a door open, and I thought it must be him, stepping out because he’d forgotten something. I could still hear the water running.
I didn’t turn toward it. I didn’t need to make eye contact. I didn’t want to make it worse than it already was.
And it already was worse than I had ever expected it could be.
But instead of hearing Mark searching through things or acknowledging I was there, I heard a woman clear her throat.
I turned toward her in surprise.
I was even more shocked to find it was Amy, hand on her hip, just as beautiful as she had been the last time she’d been demeaning me outside the bathroom during that awful party.
Jeans and a tank top did nothing to detract from the way she looked, which was, quite possibly, the last thing I needed to deal with after the weekend I’d just had.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
“Do…I mind?” I repeated. “What are you doing here?”
She popped both of her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? In case you don’t remember, I live here. With my boyfriend.
“I know you thought you had something special, or whatever, with Mark. But, as I said to you before, whatever you thought you had, it’s nothing compared to what Mark and I do have. After all, it’s not like he asked you to spend your life with him or anything.”
I couldn’t find anything to say, so I just continued to sit there, staring at her, totally dumbfounded.
“Mark and I never broke up. I gave him the space he needed, and now I’m back. And if you think this is the first time we've had a fight, and he's brought another girl into our house to fill the void, you are sadly mistaken. You aren't the first, and you probably won't be the last.” Amy flipped her hair back over her shoulder for emphasis. “It's time for you to leave. And I don't want to see you around here again.”
She was all but glowering at me.
I guess I had thought that was what I needed to do, anyway. I thought that if Mark had really wanted it to be over with Amy, he would have changed the code on the door, he would have forced her to get her things and get out, to move on with her life.
And apparently, he hadn’t done any of those things.
I stood up from the bed and reached for my luggage, pulling it behind me.
I could still hear the water in the shower as I pulled my things down the little hall and out the door, into that over-the-top little foyer where I pressed the button and waited for the elevator.
It was just the kind of ending you would expect from the weekend I’d had.
Chapter 19
Victoria
I left a note for him with the doorman, unable to stay in the apartment with Amy and Mark a moment longer than I had to. I thought it would be something long, something that encompassed everything I was feeling about what had happened between us, with his father, with his friends, with his ex. But in the end, I could manage only one line.
I just can’t do this.
-V.
As I was walking away, leaving Mark and everything he brought with him behind, I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet. I was numb through and through.
The weekend with his friends had been disastrous. This experience with Amy had been appalling. Embarrassing. I couldn’t even imagine coming back from that. No matter how much I enjoyed being with him when we were alone together. No matter how amazing the sex was with him.
And, Amy. I didn’t want to believe those things she had said, but how could I not? After all, she waltzed in there like she still owned the place. Like it hadn’t been me, he was sweeping out of town for the weekend, waking up next to, or spending his time with.
I wanted to keep thinking Mark meant everything he said when he’d told me he wanted to be with me, and it didn’t matter what anyone else said or thought.
But when his ex-girlfriend walks in and says that not only is she not his ex but that it’s also not uncommon for him to stray during a bad spot in their relationship, it really doesn’t leave a lot of room for allowances.
I had walked two blocks before it occurred to me that I should hail a cab. I pulled my little bag out into the edge of the street and gave a wave at a string of passing cabs.
When one pulled over, I didn’t even put the bag in the trunk. I just grabbed it and yanked it into the cab’s backseat, somehow managing to tell the driver my address, willing myself to leave everything behind as he put the car in gear. I imagined Mark getting smaller and smaller, and when I couldn’t see his building anymore, I couldn’t deny the sense of relief that swept through me.
I was going to put it all in the past. It was going to be nothing but a bad memory.
I made it all the way to my building, managed to pay the cabbie, and drag myself out of the car, stepped through the glass doors of my building, before I felt the rushing sting of tears assault me, like a giant wave of unhappiness that had come out of nowhere.
It was so intense I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it up to my apartment. I thought, best case scenario, I might crumble into a little ball at the foot of the stairs and cry until I dissolved into nothing but a puddle of angry, bitter tears.
I stayed there for a long moment, clutching the stairwell railing, wishing everything could be different, wondering what it would be like if Mark and I had never met in the first place, or if I had ended things earlier.
When I thought I had regained enough composure to get myself up to my apartment, I started to climb the stairs, my bag bumping on every step.
I thought my apartment would give me a welcoming feeling, but instead, I pushed the door open and was hit with a new wall of sadness.
There would be no more returning from late night dates with Mark. No m
ore of the buzzing intercom from Will telling me that they were downstairs and ready for me to join them. There was going to be none of that.
It was just going to be me, back to the grind at work, dealing with absorbing all the work Paul couldn’t manage on his own; nothing to show for any of the time or energy I had given to Mark.
I could see Cassie from the entrance, sitting on the little loveseat off the kitchen watching television, in her favorite plaid pajama pants and a tank top.
I thought for a minute I might be able to slip by her and into my bedroom without having to come face to face with her, without her knowing how disastrous everything he been.
But as quiet as I tried to be, her head was swiveling toward me before the door had even closed, and I hadn’t even had the opportunity to say hi before she was standing up and walking toward me, her brow creased, her mouth turned down.
“Geeze, Victoria. What happened?”
It was all I needed to hear to bring those tears rushing back. I thought I had them at bay, that I had somehow managed to push them away, maybe even cried all I was going to cry over him already.
But I was so, so, terribly wrong about that.
The sobs were coming hard and fast, loud and uncontrollable.
Cassie’s arm was around me, and she was guiding me toward the sofa, my bag abandoned by the door.
She turned the television off as we sat down, waiting patiently for the worst of the tears to be over so I could tell her everything.
I didn’t think I’d be able to, at first. I didn’t think I would be able to get out the first word, but as soon as I did, the whole story was spilling out, every last ugly detail about everything that had happened. The awful friends. The way they had thought I was a prostitute. How incredibly relieved I was to get back to his place, only to have Amy appear out of nowhere and tell me this was par for the course as far as she and Mark were concerned.
Cassie was hugging me, saying all the things I needed to hear — that Mark was a jerk, and you could tell he obviously wasn’t any good by the kind of company he kept. That Amy was stupid, and they deserved each other.
I tried to believe all the things she was saying.
