Page 51 of Perfect Assumption
I open my mouth, and what comes out surprises me. “If I don’t stay standing, then I’ll fall. Then they won the war I’ve been fighting all this time.”
She squeezes my waist hard before guiding me in the direction of her condo. “Let’s get you into a shower so you don’t have to sleep on that hair.”
I stop. “Carys?”
“Yes?”
“I think I learned some things tonight, which we’ll talk about tomorrow at the office. But one thing you should be aware of is your brother thinks I’m together with Becks.”
She laughs softly. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s these men who want to be with Becks so damn badly. While we adore him, we know better. The man would drive a sane woman mad in under ten minutes.”
And after a night of emotions that have spiked up and down, I now add one more to the list. An upward one.
Laughter.
* * *
Certain if Iclose my eyes in this strange room I’ll trigger my nightmares, I desperately lie awake searching for anything to keep my mind from going where I can’t let it travel. Shoving the covers aside, I get out of bed and make my way over to a seating area closer to the window.
It’s 4:30 in the morning. Quickly calculating the time difference, I text Sula. I can’t call. I stayed at my boss’s last night.
Her reply comes within seconds.Everything okay?
Long night at the office.Although Sula knows how close I am with Becks, there’s still much that can’t be shared due to his attorney-client privilege.It was a dressy thing.
I could tell. You looked beautiful. Want details after you’ve slept some.
Will do.I include a smiley face I don’t feel after that.
Her next comment has me choking back a bark of laughter.Was “Winsome Ward” there?
God, did you seriously call him that?I demand.
Oh come on, Angie. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize your boss, who BTW just hit the world’s most eligible bachelor list AGAIN, is a hottie?
He’s my boss.I try to use that as an excuse.
And?
And I want to tell her that he turns hot and cold more often than a poor, suffering woman going through a change, but I can’t. I want to say he’s a jerk, but that’s not true. My fingers fly, but my thumb hovers over the blue arrow to send her the message in the window.
There’s something about him that scares me.
Instead, I use the backspace button to delete the message before lamely sending her a shrug emoji.
As Sula types out a diatribe about Ward, I think about how different he was with me once he put what he thought was the piece of my puzzle in place.
Too bad it won’t last, I think wearily. Too bad once he digs up the whole story, I’m sure he’ll look at me the way the rest of the world does.
Like I wasn’t the victim but the perpetrator.
Nineteen
Ward
God exists because he created coffee. It’s how I write this column day after day.
— Moore You Want
