“Aren’t they?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you done?” I paused. “I know you’re dying for me to find the love of my life and all, but some of us don’t think love is the end-all be-all of life.”
It was a good thing I was a good liar.
“Some of you are idiots.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a deep breath. From the way her ears were turning red, I could tell she was getting upset about this. I tried not to smile. She was so funny when she got upset. “It doesn’t matter. Even if she goes and you take someone it’ll be fine. She’s dating this really hot guy.”
Until she wasn’t so fucking funny. “What guy?”
She shrugged. “Some guy named Brent that lives by her house. It’s pretty convenient, really,” she said, her smile widening as she looked at me. “He’s gone over a few times. She says he has an incredible body. I mean, I know he does. She showed me a picture.”
I felt like there wasn’t enough room in my body for the air that I needed. I clenched my jaw, trying to rein in my anger and keep all the words in, because the last thing I needed was to give her more ammunition. I thought about the cases sitting on top of my desk and looked around the coffee shop, my eyes everywhere.
“Good for her,” I said when I felt like I could speak without sounding like I wanted to murder whoever the guy was.
“That’s what I said,” Estelle said, lifting her cup of coffee and taking a sip. My eyes focused on her paint-stained hands. I was dying to get out of that place already. “I think he’s a producer or something.”
I exhaled. What the fuck, Nicole? What the fuck? Did she completely ignore the we just can’t be together right now part? Was she really moving on? A sense of déjà vu fell over me, when I’d asked her to leave the first time, and she had, and three weeks later she’d gotten engaged.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
“Like I said, good for her,” I repeated.
Estelle smiled as she stood up. “I have a class to teach in twenty minutes. Let me know if you’re going to make it to the party.”
“Obviously I’m going,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
I started opening the envelope as I walked away and reading the invitation, but she was too far for me to say anything to. A costume party. She was turning twenty-eight and was having a costume party for her birthday. I hated themed parties. They meant going out and looking for specific outfits and spending money on those outfits and then keeping them on at the actual event instead of just wearing whatever was already in your closet. And a fucking pirate-themed party?
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I muttered, putting the invitation away and tossing it to my passenger seat. Oliver wasn’t going to hear the end of it when I saw him on Sunday. I’d have to buy something online. Once that was out of the way I could figure out who I was going to take as my date to the office party going on in my name. They were honoring me and I was already dreading it. Under normal circumstances I’d be glad to go and stand up there, thanking the people who’d helped me get there. But under normal circumstances, Nicole would be on my arm and we’d be able to walk around openly. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be dating producers named Brent.
A few days later, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I realized I was running out of options, and I didn’t like running out of options. I wasn’t the kind of man that could just sit back and take a punch. I liked to be the one punching. I knew it wasn’t right, I knew it wasn’t necessarily professional, but I was in the business of not giving a fuck. If Nicole wanted to go off and date other guys, I couldn’t stop her. I actually appreciated it. That way the spotlight was off of me for the time being and I could take care of unfinished business.