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Of course, I had to tell them about my epic rejection and from the way they flinched, it’s like they felt it too. No one asks for unrequited love.

No one asks to be fired in the same week, either. I sit down across from James, my eyes flitting to the walls behind his desk where he used to have a Faith No More concert poster at The Warfield from 1995, but now he just has a motivational speaking type one. You know, with the schmaltzy sunsets. He’s going to start turning into Murray from Flight of the Conchords if he’s not careful.

“Just get it over with,” I say to James, putting my face in my hands. “Like a Band-Aid, right off!”

“What?” he asks. “No. Nicola. I’m not firing you.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “No?”

He shakes his head and gives me a placating smile. “No. I’m promoting you.”

“What?” Now I’ve really snapped to attention. “Why?” I’ve seriously done nothing but spill drinks this whole week.

“Because you’ve proven to be reliable,” he says, “more reliable than a lot of people here. I think I can trust you and you’re good at what you do.”

James has never been so nice to me before. You know, other than giving me the job to begin with.

“Seriously?” I ask, just to make sure this isn’t some joke.

“Totally serious.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “We’re coming into the summer season soon. June is next week, and this place is just going to get busier, all while more of my people will be wanting days off. Aside from that Disneyland trip, you never ask for days off. And even then, it wasn’t you asking. It was your charity man.”

“So, I guess you saw the news too?”

He nods. “I have to admit, Linden’s brother is the last person I would have expected to have a heart of gold but apparently he does. But, I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

I manage a small smile, even though it reminds me that I’m still living rent-free.

“And with a promotion, you’ll be able to pay your own way now,” he adds, as if he can read my mind. “That is, if you want it. I’m not going to lie, being an assistant manager isn’t a walk in the park.”

“Assistant manager?”

He nods. “It’s longer hours and more responsibility. You won’t just be serving drinks anymore. Though I think you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly.”

I’m probably a terrible person for thinking this, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to take this job. I’d gotten used to spending my time with Ava during the days and when she’s down for a nap, I get to work on the sewing machine. Hell, I’m even wearing a top I sewed up the other day. It’s not perfect but I’m getting my groove back and – more importantly – my passion back. Having that in my life reminds me that there’s more to it all than just having a paycheck.

Now with working full-time, I’m not sure I’ll have that much time to myself anymore, let alone Ava. But I know the right and responsible thing to do would be to accept it without question.

Still, I find myself saying to James, “Do you mind if I have a day to think about it?”

He seems caught off-guard. “Okay, sure. Take the whole week. Just…well, it’s not my business…”

And whatever he was about to say, I can tell it’s not his business.

I prod him anyway. “What?”

James shrugs, his pretty boy face blasé. “I think you could have a lucrative career here. And I know things are all cruisey at the moment for you, but eventually…that could change.”

He’s basically hinting that I can’t have a free ride forever and I hate to admit that he’s right, because he has such an annoying way of offering up his opinion when it’s not needed, but he is right. I just don’t tell him that.

“Well, I better go pour alcohol down some people’s throats,” I tell him, getting out of my seat. “And thank you. Really. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

The night doesn’t end up being as busy as we anticipated. Steph and Linden get there just before James says I can go home, but I’m too tired to stick around. There’s a lot on my mind.

I get home just after midnight to an empty apartment. Ava is spending the next two nights with my mother in Livermore because it was just easier that way. Part of me is surprised that Bram isn’t in my apartment waiting for me like he usually is, but it could be he wants me over there for a change.

With that in mind, I pour myself a glass of pinot gris, enjoying that first cold mouthful. Nothing could be sweeter. Then, once I remember to breathe a little, something I think I’m doing a bit less of lately, I go into the bedroom and change. I throw my homemade top and skinny jeans to the side and slip on a lacy red camisole with matching short shorts. Since I’m only going over there to screw, why dress up?

I go back into the kitchen and while I’m finishing up my glass of wine, I hear the strangest sound coming from Bram’s apartment.

Yelling.

Then crying.

Two voices, one that must be Bram’s but the other is female.

My blood runs still and my heart kicks down a few gears.

What the fuck is going on?

I head out into the hall and now I can hear it more clearly.

A woman yells, “Don’t you throw that back in my face. You could have been there!”

Then Bram yells back, “I tried to fucking be there!”

“Well, it was too damn late.” A pause and it sounds like she’s crying. “God, Matthew doesn’t need to hear this.”

Who the fuck is Matthew?

I try to swallow the brick in my throat. Things seem safe out here in the hallway. If I knock on his door, everything is going to change. I just know it. This woman, that voice…it all means something, it all means too much.

Part of me just wants to go away. And I should. Go back in the apartment and drown out the voices the way I used to drown out Bram when I first moved in.

But I don’t do that. I knock on his door instead.

“Fuck,” Bram growls.

I hold my breath.

The door opens.

Bram’s face falls at the sight of me. In his eyes, I can read everything. I can read the change.

I can read the end.

“What’s going on?” I ask, barely able to speak.

In the background, I see a woman with long dark curly hair appear. She’s tall, on the curvy side, maybe a bit bigger than me, and pretty, with smooth honey skin. Her dark, dark eyes are tinged with red.

Taylor.

In an instant, I know it’s her.

And she knows something about me. It probably helps that I’m wearing lingerie.

“Nicola,” Bram says. “This isn’t a good time.”

I jerk my head at the woman. “Who is she?” I try really hard not to sound like a jealous bitch but I’m totally failing.

Bram’s face falls even more. “She’s the woman I told you about. Taylor.”

I cross my arms, trying to act stronger than I am, trying to pretend that the name doesn’t shatter me. “The one that got away?”

The woman frowns and then steps forward.

“Hi,” she says, looking me up and down. “Are you his girlfriend?”

I look at Bram. Am I your girlfriend?

Was I?

“I live next door,” I say by way of explanation. “And heard yelling so I thought I’d come over.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” Bram says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I stare at him for a moment and I feel a world pass between us. Maybe time speeds up or maybe it slows down, but I feel myself clinging to the idea of what we were together.

I love you, I think. What are you doing? What is this? Please let there be a perfectly rational explanation for everything. Make me believe it.

“Mom,” a young boy’s voice says, and before it can really register, a little boy about six or seven in shorts and a t-shirt appears between Taylor and Bram.