Page 2 of Accidentally Yours

“Just peachy.” I leaned back in my chair.

“Donna read the article this morning and saw the pictures of your weekend on the yacht.”

“Oh yeah? Did she tell you we can’t be friends anymore?” My brow raised.

“No. But she said you need some major help and that it’s our duty as your friends to ensure you get it.” He slid a folded piece of paper across my desk.

“What’s this?” I picked it up and looked it over.

“The names of the best therapists in the city. Take your pick, call one, and set up an appointment.”

I held the paper up, crumbled it in my hand, and tossed it in the trash can.

“That’s okay,” he said, nodding. “You’re angry right now. But when you have a chance to cool off, consider getting some help.” He stood from his chair and headed toward the door.

“Hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?” He turned and looked at me.

I held up my middle finger, cocking my head.

“Love you, too, Damien.” He laughed, walking out of my office.

* * *

“I’m sorry.”I sighed, rolling off Rebecca and placing my hand on my chest.

“It’s okay. It happens,” she said.

“No! It doesn’t happen to me,” I snapped, climbing off the bed and pulling my underwear on.

I’d been seeing Rebecca for about a month, my usual time when I started getting bored and antsy with women. I stood at the window with my hands on my hips, staring at the brightly lit city. It had been three months since my father passed and two weeks since the board meeting. Turning around, I picked up the glass of scotch on the nightstand and let the amber liquid burn down my throat as I stared at Rebecca.

“Come back to bed.” She smiled, patting the empty side. “Let’s try again.”

“No. I think it’s time you left, Rebecca.”

“What? No, Damien.”

I reached down, picked up her clothes from the floor, and tossed them on the bed.

“Get dressed. You won’t be hearing from me again.” I walked out of the bedroom with my empty glass.

A few moments later, Rebecca blew into the living room after I poured another scotch.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I tipped the glass to my lips.

“Bullshit, Damien. Tell me right now! Does this have anything to do with those whores from the yacht?”

“No. Not at all.”

“You are so full of shit. I’m surprised you’re not drowning in it. You’re such a liar, Damien.”

“You want to know the truth, Rebecca? I’m bored.” I held out my arms. “You knew this wasn’t anything long-term.”

She reached up and slapped me across the face. She wasn’t the only woman who had ever slapped me, and she wouldn’t be the last. It was something I’d grown used to over the years.

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