Practice Makes Perfect (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 16

I really do strive to not make snap judgements, or assumptions, about people. Admittedly, it can be difficult; I don't always succeed.

Take Ric, for example. I judged him immediately, and continue to be shocked at the fact he's turning out to be the opposite of what I expected. But, to be fair to myself on that point, I think most of you agreed with me, based on first impressions . . . right?

And with Carrie, I tried so hard to keep an open mind. Despite her massive smile and sweet little voice though, from her first day in the office, I instantly didn't trust her. My internal bullshit detector beeped frantically every single time she opened her mouth.

I'd told myself I was just being paranoid because she was younger and more ambitious than I was . . . and possibly also because I was jealous of her hair.

Within a week however, I'd caught her out in her first lie. After that, she'd dropped any pretence that she wasn't just out for herself.

And now, on top of trying to belittle me (and various other people) in work, it turned out she'd been shagging my ex during our "break". So fucking around - quite literally in one case - with both my personal and professional life.

I had finally spoken to Declan last night on the phone. Ric had pulled me away from the scene of the crime before Dec could even think of crossing the road towards me, but the texts and missed calls had mounted up even before we got back to the flat.

Ric had asked me repeatedly if I was okay. At that point, I was just . . . sort of numb, to be honest. That unspoken niggling worry I'd had about last December had finally been confirmed as gospel. I'd always hoped I had been wrong about that; simply paranoid. But apparently not.

"I just didn't expect it to be my work nemesis," I'd told Ric. I wasn't even crying. I think my Declan well had finally dried up. The fact he'd went for Carrie, of all people, knowing how I felt about her, made me feel a bit sick to my stomach, to be perfectly honest. And as we retraced our steps to the flat, I felt the fury finally start to build up.

Ric had been . . . surprisingly sweet again, actually. He'd poured me a big glass of wine, handed me a bar of chocolate from his own stash, and left me alone so I could phone Lou for a rant. But before I could even do that, the "It's not what it looked like!" text from Declan popped up on my screen.

Was I breathing fire? I was sure I must be morphing into some sort of half-woman-half-dragon hybrid, as my vision briefly flared crimson. When his name flashed up again - call attempt number nine or ten - I angrily answered the phone.

"It's not what it looked like?" I asked, my voice surprisingly calm. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh god, Abby, I'm so glad you answered." Declan sounded harassed, desperate. Good. "Please let me explain..."