Was it real?
Is it all in my head?
Am I delusional?
Probably. Because days turn into weeks and Roman doesn't call.
I waited... I waited miserably, hoping he'd show up or least say goodbye. But nothing—just my broken pieces, ashes and embers.
Tell me, Google, why do I feel this way?
The search engine calls our connection "twin flames." One soul split in two, with the flaming pieces cast into the universe, longing to be reunited. They can end up anywhere—in any galaxy, in different time periods or realities. Finding your other half is harder than winning the lottery. But if you're lucky enough meet them, the connection is supposed to be so powerful that nothing else matters. The world, morals, other people—they all fade away.
I thought this was us... but I guess it's not.
Roman told me what I needed to hear at his office to get what he wanted. My feelings don't matter to him. I'm nothing but a fling. A distraction. A meaningless, one-time sex. And the sad thing is, I can't even be mad at him because it was all my fault, not some cosmic connection's. I was too stupid to fall for his lies when he's made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to break up with his girlfriend—nope, his fiancé... They just announced of their engagement to us, the humble nothingtons of Manhattan, this morning.
I'm sitting by the dining table with my legs folded under my bum while my spoon hovers above a bowl of cereal. The cute couple from the period drama is yelling at each other on the TV but I don't hear them. My eyes are gliding left and right on my phone, reading Roman's news.
'Rhode and Carter families are proud to announce the engagement of Roman and Tiffany.
After dating for two years, Roman Rhode is finally tying the knot with his business partner and the elite's beloved Tiffany Carter.
"Optimus Maximus has always been a family business, and our loving union will help us grow and strenghten our ties," Roman Rhode states. "With our successful launches in both Asia and Middle East, we're happy to spread our footprint to the world. This is an important moment in history. Our children and the next generations will always remember the Rhode family name."
With Carters by his side, we are sure America's most popular men's health magazine will break the charts across the globe. The couple is planning to say yes this summer in Rhode Estate, Upstate New York.'
In the photo, Roman is wearing a tux and his signature constant frown, standing next to Tiffany under a golden chandelier. And Tiffany... Fuck, I wish her smile didn't glow like that. She loves him...which makes me a bigger asshole. The pearl-cut diamond ring on her finger is hard to miss. She looks like a swan in her black ball gown. No wonder why Roman called me flawed. I'm a mess compared to her.
But why a ball gown and a tux?
Then it hits me. The photo must be taken on the night of the movie gala.
Instead of walking out to the terrace and meeting me, Roman returned to the theatre and proposed to her.
I wipe a tear just before it reaches the tip of my nose. Is this why he can't break up with her? Because he'd recently proposed and sealed some sort of business deal with her family? He must have feelings for her, though...right? Would a man in his position marry solely for business?
I guess he would, if he is a heartless robot.
My soul is aching, floating above me like a thundercloud. How can he treat me so low? And what good would come from stupid a deal if it binds you to the wrong person and strips you off your humanity?
The Viscount on the TV cries and calls his lover the bane of his existence. I snap out of my haze, scoff, then turn it off. The royal dickhead doesn't know what he's talking about. Try staring blankly at your phone for a month and living in a constant brain fog, only to be slapped back to reality with a news clip, jackass!
God, when is this suffocation going to end? I can't keep torturing myself.
Okay... I'm going to take a shower, get dressed, and try to enjoy the rest of summer before August is over. And I know exactly what would cheer me up. Collecting a debt.
Olga picks up her phone at the first tone. "What's up, Abbs?"
"Ready for your payment?"
"Nope," she says and falls silent. I let out an evil laugh. "Ah, come on, Abby! I'll pay you two hundred. Don't make me stand butt-naked on Times Square."
I chuckle. "Fine. You pick the spot. But it has to be public."
"Two hundred fifty."
"It's not negotiable!" I cry, carrying my mug to my bedroom. "I wore those boots for thirty days. You'll only wear them for thirty minutes."
She huffs... Then she puffs. "Madison Square Park."
"What time?"
"In an hour?" she suggests.
"See you there," I say, finish my coffee, and hop into the shower.
My wet hair dries by the time I reach the park. I place my sunglasses above my head and start giggling the moment I see Olga standing under the shade of a tree. She is wearing long a raincoat, holding a cardboard sign that says 'I LOST.'
"Three hundred," she offers. I laugh and shake my head. "Fine." She grabs the bulky boots from my grasp and puts them on.
I hang her raincoat around my arm while she wears the sign over her Brazilian-cut bikinis. The cardboard is long enough to cover her entire upper body and her crotch. I'd call her fully covered, except for the side boobs and...well, her butt cheeks.
"Start the timer," she mutters.
I grin, take my phone out of my denim shorts, and set the alarm.
The park is buzzing despite the early working hours. A small camera crew takes over the far corner with a crowd circling around them. There must be celebrities because people are rising on their toes, trying to get snaps with their phones.
We are like celebrities too—the crazy ones. Every passer-by turns around to take a second look at us. Some even stop to take a selfie with Olga, and ask us what she's lost.
"Her sass," I say, slap her ass and laugh until I tear up. Olga gives me the side eye but laughs along. I love her for ditching work to do this today. She just wants to see me smile after nearly a month.
When the thirty minutes are over, Olga puts on her raincoat. We stuff the cardboard into a trash can and take a stroll toward the production crew in the corner.
"How are things with Daniel?" I ask.
"If I say great, will you start crying?"
I giggle and shake my head.
"I've been meaning to get you two together. I think you'll like him, Abby."
I smile and tap her arm. "As long as he makes you happy."
When we reach the crowd around the crew, we rise on our toes and I spot a pair of green eyes behind the barriers.
"Nate!" Olga calls before I can stop her.
He is talking to a cameraman, but turns his head when he hears Olga's voice. He lifts his arm and waves at her, then his eyes glide sideways and meet mine.
I'm not going to lie; I was mad at Nate at first for cock-blocking Roman at the gala. But at the end of the day, Roman's the one who took me out on a date when he was engaged. He is the one who fucked me, then dumped me. I can't blame Nate for anything.
When I wave back at him, Nate's lips curl into a tiny smile. Patting the cameraman's shoulder, he starts jogging our way.
I lean into Olga's ear. "Why did you call him?"
"Is it weird?" she asks. "He is Daniel's best friend. We spend a lot of time together."
My eyes widen at this. I didn't know Olga hung out with Daniel's friends. She's never invited me! But then, I've been mourning for the relationship I never had for an entire month...
Nate breaks the plastic barrier that separates the crowd from the crew and signals us to enter. "What's up, Olga? Aren't you working today?" he asks, pressing his cheek against hers for a friendly kiss.
"I had a debt to pay," she says, chinning toward me.
Nate raises his brows in surprise. "Hi, Abby."
I let out a chesty chuckle. He knows my name now. "How are you, Nate?"
"Good. Great... Busy," he says, shuffling his hair...which causes his white t-shirt to stretch around his broad chest. His eyes linger on Olga's feet. "Ooh, is it the bet with the boots?"
Olga clicks her heavy heels together.
My gaze flies to my best friend. They must have spent a lot of time if Nate knows about our silly bets.
"Wait, were you guys here?" Nate asks, holding his waist. "Did I miss the show?"
I laugh and take my phone out. "Oh, I have the good bits."
Nate stands next to me as I scroll through my photos and show him Olga's eye rolls and funny dances, wearing the cardboard. Then my finger freezes on my screen. Why am I showing Nate my friend's nearly naked photos? I wiggle in my place, shake my head, and pop my phone back into my pocket with a nervous smile.
Nate bites his lip and claps the awkwardness away. "Can I get you girls anything to drink? We have hot coffee, iced coffee, water, and orange juice."
"Iced coffee!" Olga cries and runs to the catering table.
Nate and I giggle as we slowly follow her.
"You are a great matchmaker," I say. "Never seen her happier in a relationship."
"I have a gut feeling about these things." He reaches for the cooler and hands me a bottle of water. "Daniel loves her—We! We love her."
The bottle slips out of my hand. I catch it before it falls and start laughing.
Nate wipes the sweat off his face. "Yeah, don't tell her Daniel mentioned the L-word within the month of their relationship."
"I won't," I say, still chuckling. "She deserves to hear it from him."
We clink our waters and take a sip.
Olga is now standing by a green screen, staring at the cast who are standing in a badass Halloween decor with motorcycles, dirt and buckets full of grime. Two models in chainmail bikinis are leaning on a dusty, topless guy holding a baseball bat.
"Let me guess. Your girls for tonight and a star baseball player," Olga says to Nate over her shoulder.
He turns crimson and rushes to her side. "I'm not seeing anyone special, Olga."
I can't help but giggle. Nate is cute when he's panicking.
Olga rolls her eyes. "You are taking them out tonight, though, right?"
Nate shuffles his hair again. "Maybe."
I'm sweating more than I should. It's extra hot in the city at noon. I finish my water and tap Olga's arm. "I'm heading home. Got some work to do."
Her eyes widen as they fly back and forth between Nate, me and the girls. "I'll come with," she says and gets into my arm. "See you soon, Nate."
The sun shines into Nate's eyes and brightens the greens in them for a second. Then someone from the camera crew hurries and hands him a chart. "See you, Olga. Abby," he says, turning to the cast.
"See you around," I say softly.
He raises his head slightly and smiles onto his shoulder.
I fight my own smile and lead Olga out of the set.