Page 13 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“I don’t need to smell my pits, Dawn. Because I can smell them from here. It’s my musk, and I love it. I’m cultivating it as my warning to the rest of humanity to stay the hell away from me.”
Like she hadn’t even heard her, Dawn pulled Kissie into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Kiss. I am so sorry Bryan cheated on you with his tax attorney. He’s a total asshat who never deserved you in the first place.”
“Whatever,” Kissie said, her constricting throat and wobbling chin turning the word into a hiccup.
“And I’m sorry Bart decided to close your agency. It fucking sucks. But you’ll find another job.”
This only made her chin wobblier. Because what Dawn—or anyone else for that matter—didn’t know was that Kissie already had found another job. In Seattle.
During an impulsive, post-breakup, semi-fugue state, she’d reapplied to the enormous advertising agency she’d decided not to work for last year after Bryan convinced her to stay in Missoula with him. Miraculously, they’d agreed to take another chance on her. She vaguely remembered reading somewhere that making big life decisions right after a breakup was a bad idea. Then again, so was hiding under the covers for two weeks without showering, and she’d had no problem doing that.
She needed to tell Dawn about the job and the move. She needed to tell her parents, her sisters and brothers, her hairdresser, even that asshole Frank in the apartment below her. But she just…couldn’t. Every time she tried, the words seemed too big, like something would have to break for them to come out. She felt broken enough already.
“Thanks,” she mumbled into Dawn’s shoulder.
Pushing her away, Dawn scrunched her nose. “But good god, you really do stink. Go shower, get dressed.” Her face lit up. “Because I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Kissie scowled. “I hate surprises.”
“Okay, Eeyore.” Dawn spun her toward her bathroom and gave her a shove. “It’s time to leave your gloomy place.”
* * *
“Is the blindfold necessary?”Kissie asked, slumped in the passenger seat of Dawn’s truck.
“Absolutely.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I came right out and told you now, would it?”
“Dawn, if you’re taking me to some bullshit meditation retreat, I swear to god.”
“Listen, the guru is only in Montana once a year and—”
“You’d better be fucking joking.”
Dawn snorted. “Calm down, Kiss. I’ve got you. And I promise you are going to love this.”
Closing her eyes, Kissie finally let herself take a deep breath. Maybe a getaway was exactly what she needed. A chance to leave the real world behind for a long weekend. A chance to forget all about Bryan and the move and the new job where she’d be one of a thousand nameless, faceless cogs in a heartless corporate wheel. A job that was so far away from what she wanted to do with her life she might as well change her name while she was at it. A job that would probably never give her the chance to write another song again.
While rule number one stated that crying was strength, and a necessary part of getting over someone, that didn’t mean she enjoyed doing it. For the considerate way it soaked up her tears before they had a chance to roll down her cheeks, Kissie was suddenly grateful she was wearing a blindfold.
TRIG
“What is it with you and this song?” Ryan asked, frowning at Trig while the Big Bobby’s Tires commercial played on the TV in the corner of the bar.
“What?” Trig said, absently drying off a glass.
“This song. You get this weird, dopey look on your face whenever it comes on.”
“I do not.”
Yanking out his phone, Ryan snapped Trig’s picture. “You do too,” he said, showing him the evidence.
Trig scoffed. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Come on. You have it set as your damn ringtone.”
