Page 3 of Hard To Love

Chapter One

Istoppedby the Daily Grind, a cute and trendy coffee house near my office, to load up on my morning shot of caffeine. While mumbling out my order, it was obvious that I wasn’t fully awake. My sleep-deprived brain was a foggy mess and my recent bout of insomnia had taken its toll on me.

The elevator ride up to my office seemed to take forever as I cradled the warm cup of coffee in my hands. I tried to pull my act together, but the call with Brad last night was still fresh on my mind. He should hate me for what I did to him, but for some reason, he still felt the need to continually call me and ask me if I was okay. He seemed to hope that if he kept it up I would realize my mistake.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

I would be lying to myself, if I didn’t admit that it only made everything ten times harder. I didn’t regret my decision, but the guilt still weighed heavily on my chest.

As soon as the elevator reached my floor, I pushed my way forward and stepped outside.

After passing through the reception area, I headed down the long hallway towards my cubicle. My friend, Jonathan, was studying something on his computer screen when I greeted him. “Hey you.”

He looked up, “Good morning.” He smiled, but I couldn’t help notice the dark circles underneath his gorgeous eyes.

“Everything okay?” I asked, blowing into my cup before taking a sip.

He pushed his black reading glasses up to the top of his head. The worry lines etched across his forehead were prominent in the bright fluorescent lights that hung over his desk.

“I’m just worked up about the gallery showing this weekend.”

This gig he had here at the agency was just part-time. Because let’s face it, being a struggling artist in Manhattan, wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He sighed, clearly not convinced. “Well, let’s hope you’re right. If I end up having a good night, we’re all going out afterwards to celebrate.” He raised his eyebrow to me in question. “You’re coming, right?”

Even though the last thing I wanted to do was go out drinking, there was no way I could tell him no. He needed the support. I wouldn’t be a shitty friend and tell him no, without a good reason.

“I’ll be there.”

My body had just settled into the chair behind my desk when a pair of familiar hands rested on my shoulders.

“I hope you brought one of those for me?”

I turned around and saw my friend, Jack, pointing to the coffee cup resting on my desk. We had first met during our junior year of college, and it was his connections that landed me this job working at his father’s real estate company.

I smiled, bringing the coffee to my lips. “I would have if I’d known you were going to be here.”

He walked around my chair and leaned against the desk so he could face me. “I had work to catch up on.” He glanced at his watch then looked down at me. “What’s your excuse for getting here so early?”

Setting my coffee down, I forced a smile on my lips, hoping it would cover up my sour mood. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come in early and get a head start.” I shrugged my shoulders then reached over to turn my computer on.

He crossed his feet at the ankles, and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re such a crappy liar. What’s really going on?”

Jack was always one of those people who could read me easily. That along with our six-year friendship, meant he was also one of my closest friends and one of the few people I allowed into my bubble. Considering that my best friend Cassie was the only other name on that list, it would appear that I had some deep-seated trust issues. Freud would have a field day with me!

My head lifted to see him standing there silently, still waiting for my reply. I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let up until he got a straight answer out of me.

“Brad called me again last night.” I peeked up at him just in time to see him roll his eyes. “It was the first time I’ve actually talked to him since we broke up, and it only made me feel worse afterwards.”

He pushed himself off the desk and leaned in, gently placing his hands on my shoulders once more. “You need to listen to me. You need to get over all this Brad shit you got rattling around in your head.”

I glared at him. “And how would you suggest that I do that?”

“By getting the hell out of your apartment and not sitting around every Friday and Saturday night, reading books and watching television. Christ, Emily, you can do that when you’re eighty.”

My mouth hung open, as he continued, “I know that was harsh, but,” he sighed while running his hands through his short blond hair. “I’m tired of seeing you walk around the office all the time like a zombie and living the social life of a Franciscan nun! You’re twenty-six years old for Christ’s sake and last time I checked, you hadn’t taken a vow of celibacy!”

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