I keep it together, keep my emotions in check on the way back to the office, through endless meetings that afternoon, and all the way home. It isn’t until I’m in my pajamas and catch the end of You’ve Got Mail on TV that I start to cry, frustrated with my job and all the reasons I’m not with Josh. Frustrated that I can’t just live my life. Frustrated that he’s the secret I can’t share, the client I can’t have.
Once the tears start, I’m overcome.
What have I done?
Josh is the best thing to ever happen to me. He’s kind and thoughtful and sweet. He doesn’t play games like some guys and pretend he’s not interested. He came right out and told me he wanted to pursue a relationship. Never mind that he’s gorgeous as hell and amazing in bed. Of all the women in Portland, he wants me.
And I threw him away.
Seriously… What the fuck have I done?
My cell rings, and for a gloriously brief moment, the ache in my chest subsides when I wonder if it’s him, but Kendall’s name flashes across my screen. Listless, I can’t bring myself to pick it up until the third time she calls back.
“Hey.”
“Finally!” she shouts in my ear. “I was afraid I was going to have to drive my ass all the way over there to get the details about this weekend. I didn’t call you yesterday in case you were still doing the dirty with Dirk Diggler.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“I saw his post last night, though. He loved your dress! I knew he would.” She squees into my ear, and it only makes everything worse.
I sniffle into the phone, but I don’t say anything. Talking requires energy, energy I don’t have. Chauncey whimpers at my feet and lays his head on my lap as I sink deeper on the couch.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Sick? In the head, maybe.” I laugh until the tears start again.
“Whoa, whoa. What’s going on?”
It takes a second to compose myself. I’ve never been much of a crier, but this whole clusterfuck is my doing, and I don’t know how to rectify it.
“Ken, I think I screwed up.” Using every last bit of energy, I nudge my dog over to grab a tissue and blow my nose.
She listens while I explain our weekend together, how we worked through a little drama, and how phenomenal things turned out until I dropped the bomb on him earlier today. When I’m done, she’s quiet. I pick at my chipped nail polish, the same shade of gold as my dress.
I can’t stand the silence, so I blurt, “I finally find the perfect man, the stuff of legends, and I break things off so he can be my client. What kind of stupid, heartless bitch does that?”
“A smart bitch, babe.” She sighs. “Evie, you’ve been so focused on your career—nose to the grindstone, head in books—for years. You took on obscene school debt, and I know you’re trying to pay back your dad for the loans he took to help you, on top of your new mortgage. You’re wired this way, to be practical. If you handed this guy off to another attorney and things didn’t work out in your relationship, you’d never forgive yourself for screwing up a huge opportunity at work.”
Ignoring my sniffles, she continues. “I don’t blame you for taking the safe route. Yes, I want to champion this guy because he sounds amazing, but you also have to be true to yourself. This is coming from someone who knows how much it can bite you in the ass when you date a client.”
I nod, remembering Kendall’s bad breakup last year, but that doesn’t absolve my conscience.
“I’m never going to forgive myself for being so distant this morning, for trying to be ‘professional’ when all I wanted was to throw myself into his arms. I wish he knew this is breaking my heart. I mean, I’m not saying I’m in love with him, because it’s too early for that, but we had an incredible connection.”
I pet Chauncey, whose worried expression makes me wonder if he knows he won’t be seeing Josh anymore. I’m pretty sure my damn dog loves him more than he loves me.
“You’re still friends, though. Just because you need a little time to figure out how to maneuver this situation doesn’t mean you have to cut him out of your life.”
“I don’t know if I can handle being friends with Josh. I can’t imagine us hanging out and needing to keep my distance.”
“Josh?”
It takes a second for me to process what she’s saying, and I close my eyes, feeling more defeated. I just divulged his first name. Fuck.
“Ken, you can’t tell anyone anything. Can you please pretend I didn’t just open my big mouth? I can’t keep track of all of my screwups today.”
“Honey, your secret is safe with me. I’m in public relations. Secrets are my specialty. I know the dirty laundry of half this city. I got your back.”
Nodding, I drag myself to the kitchen and break out the wine. I’m gonna need a whole lot of wine.
“You know,” she adds, “it’s ironic that you could date a coworker but not a client.”
“We don’t have a fraternization policy, so I can bang my coworkers all I want. Which, ewww, no thanks. Have you seen those guys? Beer guts and balding. Except for Nathan, although I’m not feeling that anymore. Not after Josh. But…”
“But what?”
“But I can get into some serious trouble if I’m not careful. I’m either his attorney, and that’s it—no more messing around—or I find someone else to represent him.” I drop my voice. “Ken, sleeping with a client is considered a major conflict of interest, the kind of thing that can get you disbarred.”
Even though my firm turned him down during that interim period when we got together, the only way I know him is because he contacted me to rep him. I don’t think I’m being paranoid to think I’m crossing a line if I continue to see him.
And if I go to Malcolm and tell him, whoops, I slept with Josh Cartwright, who may or may not want another attorney at our firm to rep him?
I shake my head. I’ve come too far to risk everything.
But before we hang up, Kendall, ever the problem-solver, helps me formulate a plan.
“Give yourself a week or two,” she says. “Be his attorney and get some space to think and look at this rationally. You can always find him another attorney. There’s no need to make any rash decisions in the meanwhile.”
No rash decisions. I think I can handle that. It’s about the only thing I can handle at this point.
After the longest week known to man where Josh and I kept all communication through email—I can’t bring myself to text him—I’m still not confident about the choice I made. He’s infiltrated my life more than I thought. Josh is everywhere. He’s in my kitchen, my living room, my bed. Everywhere I look, I see him. Icing my ankle. Washing my dog. Fixing me lunch. Making me come apart while he watches me with those amber-colored eyes.
The one thing I can’t wrap my head around is how devastated I feel about the loss of a man I only recently met. I wasn’t this upset over breaking up with Elliot, and I dated him for a year.