The Perfect Charade - PORDEE

Final Chapter

Anntonia

Day Twenty-Nine

––––––––

I can't believe she hasn't called.

My phone didn't ring once after we returned to New York. A part of me knew that was a possibility, though. Whenever Michelle closed a deal, she threw a celebratory party. The deal immediately became 'old news' the second the party began, and she would start looking for a new pursuit.

I'd read reports of how happy she was at the closing celebration, how she told everyone there that her fiancée was unable to come due to "personal reasons." So, I took that as a sign to keep my distance. I'd even considered showing up to the party, but I changed my mind at the last minute.

"Cheer up, Ann." My sister placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of me. "At least you got to fuck her. It was amazing every time, right?"

"Is that all you think about these days, Alice?"

"No." She smiled. "Yes."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, every time."

"Well, treasure those memories until you find someone else. I'm sure she's moved on to someone else by now. She is Ms. Page Six after all."

"Remind me to never come to you when I need to be consoled again."

"I don't understand why it's that big of a deal." She took a cupcake out of the refrigerator. "You've worked for her for two years. You were attracted to her, but not enough to cross the line. She invites you to do a new, temporary contract—one where she's basically letting you off the hook for the final few days, and you're moping about it. It's not like you're in love with the girl. Right?"

I didn't answer.

"Oh my god ..." She plopped down in front of me. "I guess I should've seen that as the reason why you refused to go out and date new people after your last breakup."

"That had nothing to do with Michelle."

"I think it has everything to do with her. Why else would you spend all that extra time with her before the arrangement?" She looked as if she was about to launch into one of her "deep" and not-so-insightful spiels, but there was a sudden knock at the door.

"I'll get it." I rushed over to the door and found myself face to face with our mother.

"Mom?" I said. "I thought you weren't getting in until this weekend."

"When were you going to tell me that you were engaged?" She looked hurt. "I had to read about it in the Financial Times. I had to fly here earlier than I originally planned because I just knew you wouldn't hide something like that from me for this long. Would you?"

"Let's talk about that." I sighed and let her inside. "Coffee or tea?"

"Vodka."

I walked into my kitchen and poured her a shot. I made myself a cup of orange juice.

"Your boss is a damn good catch," she said, taking the glass from me. "I'm just surprised you went for her after all the complaining you did during your first six months there."

"It's not a real engagement, mom," I said. "It never was."

"Well, of course, it's a real engagement. You don't have to get married within a year like your dad and I did to make it a real thing."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean we were never—"

Someone knocked on the door mid-sentence, before I could finish.