“Yeah, he’s got it all and then some,” I sighed, feeling the need to give her some juicy details even though it tugged at my heart to talk about how amazing he fucked. He was likely bending his little secretary over and doing all the things he used to do to me to her. “He’s good in every way.”
“Aw, it was supposed to be a joke, not make you feel worse. Sorry, I’m not good at break-up chat.” Jennifer’s grin was replaced by a frown, making her look awkward. Frowning wasn’t something she did often, while I’d mastered the face. “Let’s drink until you forget who he even is.”
And we did. Almost. I don’t think I could physically drink enough to forget the man who owned my heart, not and still be breathing anyway. Somehow I made it back to my place. The last part of the night was scattered bits and pieces as the alcohol took over, robbing me of the memories.
I had to work the next day so going out and getting so completely blitzed probably wasn’t the best idea. Sitting on my couch nursing a water to hopefully ward off a hangover in the morning, I stared at my computer. I really needed someone to talk to. I had no one I could really tell everything to. Jennifer would likely understand, but then she’d admitted to not being good with men and the complications that came with them since she didn’t hang around long enough for them to arise.
Finally I blew out a long breath and pulled up the online counseling site. It had been a long time since I’d used it, since I’d felt like I had a good handle on life, but everything was crashing down and it was the one place I could go to not be judged while being completely open.
Counselor21: Good evening. Or should I say morning? How have you been?
BadKitty2: Not so well.
Counselor21: What changed? You were gone for a while, so I assume everything was good then.
BadKitty2: He cheated.
Counselor21: Did you talk to him about it or catch him in the act?
BadKitty2: No.
Counselor21: Then how do you know?
BadKitty2: Call it a woman’s intuition.
Counselor21: That’s it? Just a hunch?
BadKitty2: Hunches can be more telling than the heart or brain, which are easily swayed.
Counselor21: But do you have anything to support your hunch?
BadKitty2: I do. Lipstick on his neck. Wasn’t mine.
Counselor21: Anything else?
BadKitty2: Rumors. Overheard people talking.
Counselor21: I really think what you need to do is sit down and talk to him about it. Let him know why you are feeling the way you are. See if he can give any explanations or put your worries to rest. I’m not saying he is or isn’t, but at least give him the chance to have his say. If after your conversation you still feel he is cheating maybe it would be best to take a break.
BadKitty2: You’re crazier than I am! Like he’d just admit it.
Counselor21: Not necessarily, but it gives you the chance to look into his face as he lies (or tells the truth) and that is where you’ll get your answer.
BadKitty2: Yeah, maybe. Thanks.
Counselor21: It’s what I’m here for.
I logged off the computer feeling better than I had in days. The counselor was right. I could look at John and tell if he was hiding something as I told him what I knew. I would go see him during lunch when he’d be stuck in the office and unable to turn things against me and my possibly treacherous body. It wouldn’t be easy to face him, but it might help the ache that lived in my chest, or help get me some closure.
I fell into bed and prayed the next time I was there I’d have more peace of mind while being on the path to getting over the biggest heartbreak of my life. Did I think he could possibly be telling the truth about not cheating? In some small corner of my mind, I did. However, it was easier to focus on the worst outcome because it was what I expected in life.
In the morning, I dressed carefully for work, taking extra time on my hair and makeup, wanting to look as well put-together as I could for such a heavy conversation. My hands shook, my knees were weak and I had bags under my eyes from not sleeping well since I’d left him, but after a few layers of concealer at least one problem was less noticeable.
The early hours of work ticked by and I chewed at my nails as I stared at the clock. Finally lunch rolled around and I grabbed my purse before hustling through the lobby. I wanted to get it over with. The door to his office slammed open unintentionally and I looked at Mariah behind her desk. She sent me a bright smile of triumph.
“Oh, Alix. I don’t believe John was expecting you. He’s super busy and plain exhausted. I’ve worn him out today.” She sighed contentedly and ran her fingers through her hair, which was oddly out of place and tangled. She smirked as she hastily brought it back to order and the door to John’s office opened.
Glancing up, I sucked in a breath. John stood, shocked, with one hand on the door, the other resting on the frame.
“Alix,” he whispered.
“John.” I crossed my arms over my chest when he reached a hand toward me. His hand fell short and he turned abruptly to Mariah.
“I need my messages and a new notepad — for some reason the one I have is mangled,” he told her before turning back to me. “Let me reschedule this patient, then I’ll be free.”
“I’ll wait.” I turned jerkily on my heel and sat in one of the vacant chairs.
Mariah jumped up and rushed to get the items he requested before handing them over. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment before he returned to the office and she glared at me.
“Well, I guess I’m taking an early lunch.” Mariah scowled as she retrieved her purse from under the desk. She stepped around the desk to stop in front of me. “If he’s looking for his briefcase, it’s under my desk.”
I nodded, looking not at her but at the door John was behind. She left the office and minutes later a couple exited his office, leaving the door slightly ajar.
“Alix?” I heard him call out. “I have to find my briefcase and then I’m taking the afternoon off to spend with you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I just need a few minutes.” I stood and moved behind the desk to grab his briefcase.
“We have a lot to talk about. I don’t want to be worried about appointments. They can be moved.” His voice carried out from his office as I heard rustling.
As I wrapped my hand around the handle of the briefcase, my eyes locked on something in the trash can right next to it. A condom. A used condom. What the fuck? I back pedaled as my heart thumped in my chest. It couldn’t be. I didn’t need any other conversation, that one item told me enough. John said he didn’t have sex in his office, and I knew he didn’t allow his patients to either, so there was only one way that condom came to be there. He really was fucking Mariah. It was the only conclusion I could come up with as my vision greyed and pain swarmed over me. Dropping the case, I ran for the door.
“Damn it. Not again!” I heard John yell from behind me, but I didn’t stop until I was in a cab parked in front of the hotel.
My heart was breaking and I couldn’t handle seeing him attempt to deny everything straight to my face. I didn’t think the pain could get any worse than it had been, but I was wrong. So wrong.
When it had been a possibility, I had held on to a shred of hope things could be fixed, but not after knowing he was fucking her where he’d refused to fuck me. I couldn’t handle it. There was absolutely nothing left to salvage. Nothing left to repair. It was gone in a matter of seconds. A chance glimpse of something I was never supposed to see.