“I can’t wait.”
I hang up the phone and stare at it again, still not sure if that conversation really just happened. I push the phone back into my bag and it suddenly occurs to me that Todd doesn’t have to be the only one who gets to win here. I am single, I have a good job, an awesome job in fact, and I’m not bad looking. (Some might even say I’m gorgeous. Who would have thought that?)
Todd took my heart. He took my name. He took himself. He gave it all to Amber, his Trophy Wife. But that moment in the Best Doughnut Shop in the City doesn’t have to be the last word, does it? He doesn’t deserve any more tears. He doesn’t deserve any more of my pain. There is no more room for sadness or hurt.
I have to move on and I finally know how.
Because my brain has hatched the perfect plan, right here, right now, thanks to this handsome young meter man. I can turn the tables. I can even the score and take up the mantle for all the jilted ladies, young and old. This is no longer about me. There is something bigger at stake here. I have been presented with a rare opportunity. This isn’t just happenstance. This isn’t just coincidence.
This is real parking karma at work.
Because if the unbelievably hot Dave Dybdahl thinks I’m cute, then maybe, just maybe, I could land a hot young thing, a delicious piece of arm candy, a boy toy. Maybe Dave Dybdahl, maybe someone else. Because Dave will be just the beginning of my new project.
I am going to score myself a Trophy Husband.