Page 115 of The Broker

Plus, any kind of future with Charlotte was hazy. I couldn’t forecast what would happen, and the unpredictability scared me. There were so many things working against us, from our age gap to her disapproving parents, to my fear of commitment. The risk of failure was steep.

You’re a fucking coward.

I couldn’t even argue against it. All my years at Hale Banking and Holding, I’d prided myself on excelling under pressure. I made quick, smart decisions, knew when to take risks and how to keep my emotions under control.

But the moment Ardy caught me with my hand up Charlotte’s shirt, it was as if my brain stopped working and fear took hold. And then when he’d fired me, I freaked the fuck out. The urge to run was so powerful, it was overwhelming, and I’d been so focused on not doing that, I’d stood there like an asshole, leaving her to deal with the whole shitshow on her own.

What did I do now? I’d never been fired before.

Until moving here, you never had a mortgage payment before either.

I had savings and could float for several months, but what then? I couldn’t really afford to stay unemployed.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the clock on the lock screen. Even without the time change, it was far too late to call anyone in New York, and this was probably a good thing. Everything was too raw right now, and calling without a game plan was a bad idea. My previous manager would wonder the real reason I was sniffing around for a job opening, sense my desperation, and in the unlikely event he had room for me, I’d have no leverage for salary negotiations.

Everything would be better if I slept on it.

In the morning, I’d have more perspective on things. I’d confront what I’d done, decide the best way forward, and take action.

I stared at my phone in my hand and, without thought, found myself composing a text message to Charlotte.

Me:I fucked up. Can we talk?

I held my breath as I waited for the ‘Delivered’ beneath my speech bubble to change to ‘Read.’

Usually, she was quick to respond, but the seconds ticked by and my dread grew. Maybe she was busy and hadn’t seen the message, or maybe she was too distraught to look at her phone.

Or maybe she’s blocked you.

I sat on the floor for an embarrassing amount of time before finally realizing a response wasn’t coming.

She didn’t owe me anything, and I didn’t deserve one, did I?

The plan had been to get some sleep, but it was hard to come by. Everywhere in the house, I saw reminders of her. There weren’t any dirty clothes on my bedroom floor because theywere all tucked away in the laundry basket in my closet. My bed was made because I’d started doing that every morning.

The new habit had come about because I always wanted to be prepared in case she came over. But I had quickly discovered I was making the bed more for myself than her. I liked coming home to a house that wasn’t a mess, and I especially liked getting into a bed when it wasn’t a rumpled pile of sheets.

Did she realize how much of an effect she had on me?

I barely slept that night, so it made sense I felt like shit in the morning. I used that, plus the fact that it was a weekend, as my excuse when I didn’t make any headway on the job front.

I wallowed for an hour, and then guilt over hurting Charlotte stormed in, and that was louder than any other emotion I had. I was desperate to talk to someone, and it was fucking ironic that the person I’d grown closest to—the one person who knew me better than anyone these days—was the one person who wanted nothing to do with me.

Me:Please, Charlotte. I’m so sorry. Can I call you?

This text message also went unread.

I waited hours before caving and called, only for it go straight to voicemail. I sat at my desk in my office, and the realization of how fucked I was slowly dawned on me. She hadn’t just been my girlfriend; she’d been my best friend...

And I was terrified I might never see her again.

I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize for hurting her or explain how badly I’d gotten scared and fucked up. That if I could do things over again, I would have done them so differently.

Shit, I would have stood beside her instead of running away.

My phone chimed with a text, jarring me from my thoughts.

Shannon:Are you and Charlotte free next Friday? Patrick and I are going to Club Eros. Would love to see you there!

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