Page 3 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

“I need you to move out. This is my apartment, so obviously you can’t stay. I’d like you out tonight, but if you can’t leave until the morning, you could stay on the couch.”

“You’re kicking me outtonight?” I say, shocked that he expects me to leave before I’ve even had time to process what just happened.

“Or you could go in the morning,” he says. “It’s up to you.”

“Where am I going to go? I don’t have money for an apartment. I just lost my job and I have almost no money saved.”

Working in fashion, I have to look the part, meaning a lot of my money goes to pay for trendy clothes and shoes. Showing up to work in clothes from last season isn’t an option, although I guess that no longer matters since I don’t have a job.

“I called Sara and she agreed to let you stay at her place for a few nights.”

“You told Sara you were breaking up with me?”

“I told her I have the flu and you needed a place to go so you wouldn’t get sick.”

“So you lied.” I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hey, it’s better than telling her the truth. I didn’t want her knowing about us before you did.”

“How kind of you,” I say with a huff.

“Anyway, I packed your things.”

“Youwhat?” I race to the bedroom and sure enough, moving boxes are stacked up around the room.

“I can schedule someone to pick them up,” Asher says. “I’ll even pay for it since it’s short notice.”

“And since I have no money,” I point out. “And no job.”

“You’ll find something. It doesn’t have to be in fashion.”

“Oh, so you think I should give up on my dream and take whatever job I can get?”

“For now, yeah. You need money. You can still look for a job in fashion, but it could be months before you get hired. You can’t afford to wait that long.”

“Thanks to you,” I mutter, going over to the closet. All my things are gone and Asher’s filled the space with his suits and dress shirts.

“I think I got everything,” he says, watching as I check the dresser drawers. They’re cleared out too.

“When did you do all this?” I ask. “Did you take the day off?”

“No, just the afternoon. I’ll make the time up tomorrow. I’ll be spending the weekend at the office.”

He doesn’t sound upset about that, like most people would. He almost sounds happy about it. Maybe he really would rather be married to his job than to me. But then why did he propose? Why did he spend the last four years with me? It doesn’t make sense.

“Is there someone else?” I ask, knowing it’s possible. Asher’s a good-looking guy and he makes a lot of money.

“I didn’t cheat on you,” he says, like he’s annoyed that I asked the question. “When would I even have time? Whenever I wasn’t at work, I was with you.” He checks his watch. “I’m meeting the guys for drinks in an hour. I need to know if you’re leaving tonight or waiting until morning.”

My head is spinning. I can’t believe this is happening. Just last night, Asher and I went out for a nice dinner, then came home and made love. And less than a day later, he dumps me?

I walk up to him. “Why now? Why didn’t you do this sooner? Why did you ask me to marry you if it isn’t what you wanted?”

He shrugs. “My parents?”

“What do your parents have to do with this?”

“They want me to get married. Have kids. Do the family thing. You know how they are. They’re very traditional. This is whattheywanted. For me to marry you, have some kids, move to the suburbs. But I don’t want that life, at least not yet. Maybe in ten or fifteen years I’ll change my mind. Who knows?”

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