After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
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"The hell he is," I tell Fiona about my ex. "There's no way in hell I let him walk back into the kids lives just like that."
He would screw things up again. Just like he's always done.
Fiona makes a humming sound in agreement. She's half laying on the couch dressed in a pair of black leggings and a sweater that's several sizes too big on her. Her short black hair is spiky and the light from the TV reflects off her nose piercing.
I'm so thankful she's here. I called her as soon as I got back home from the supermarket, and since it is a Friday night and she's my best friend and the best supporter a girl can have, she showed up at the apartment an hour later with a box of chocolate ice cream and a bottle of wine. This girl knows me like nobody else.
"Did he say why he's coming back?" she asks.
I snort. "Yeah, he misses us."
She snorts and I laugh bitterly.
I'm too wound up to sit still, so I'm pacing the floor with a glass of wine in my hand. Both kids are thankfully asleep. It took longer than normal to get them to bed because of the sugar rush from the fancy animal crackers. And the fact that my ex-husband had me all wound up and frustrated didn't help.
"What if he does?" Fiona asks. "Maybe he finally figured out what a great catch you are."
I laugh sarcastically. He'd never, ever realize that.
"No way," I tell her. "More likely Brittney or Bethany or whatever the hell her name was threw him out, and now he needs money."
She grimaces. And as much as I hate it, that is most likely the cold, hard truth. I'm his safety net. The one he call's to fix his screw ups. Except this time I'm not doing it. I'm done getting walked all over, which is why I cut all ties with him when he left. But somehow I didn't do a good enough job.
I take a deep breath and let it out. "I'm not doing it again, Fi, I can't do it again."
Her dark eyes find mine and she nods. "I hear you, babe," she says. "And you don't have to."
My shoulders relax a tiny bit at her support. "But what if he finds out where we live? What if he comes here?"
"Don't open the door."
I stop my pacing and glance over at her. "That's your best advise?"
She snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess. Do you have a better one?"
I don't. And that's the problem. I don't have a lot of answers when it comes to my ex, other than it's over and he needs to leave us the hell alone.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, signaling an incoming text message. I glare at it, thinking it's Nolan. I ignore it, take a drink from the wine, and continue to pace. It buzzes again and I curse out loud.
