Chapter 2

Nothing I’d said had made a dent, and I was heartbroken. Where was the man I’d fallen in love with? When had his stingy ways gone from cute to downright irritating and self-serving? Had it all been a lie? Perhaps I should have seen it coming, but I’d wanted us to work. Looks like he didn’t.

I shook my head and stepped back. “You know what, Seb? Go. I hope you get what you want, because obviously, what we had was just a rest stop for you, a sham of my own making. We’re done. I’m heading out for the rest of the day. When I get back, all your stuff had better be gone, or else I’ll donate it to Goodwill.”

“Gus, come on. We can still make this work…” I heard him say, and I laughed bitterly, ignoring the slight anguish in his voice that almost swayed me. Almost.

“You know, I put up with a lot from you, including the ‘you pay for your meal, I’ll pay for mine’ bullshit because I loved you. I thought it was a cute quirk, and I realize now I was a dumbass. I’ve been the onlyone putting effort into this relationship and making it work.” I made air quotes with my fingers.“Obviously, we have different definitions of the word. Maybe some guy in New York will be dumb enough to put up with your shenanigans. I’m done.”

I left as quickly as I could, not wanting Seb to see just how devastated I was at his choices. Three years down the drain, and I wasn’t good enough for my fucking boyfriend to think twice about moving hundreds of miles away. He’d chosen money over love. Over us. I guess that told me, huh?

* * * *

Two months later

“Gus!”

I jumped, the empty coffee cup near my right hand tumbling to the floor. Good thing it wasn’t breakable. With a sigh, I turned to see the store manager staring at me in exasperation from where she stood at the door to my tiny, stuffy office. I guess she’d been trying to get my attention for a while.

“What’s up, Nance?”

She frowned. “I called your name three times, hon. Snap out of it, all right? We need your help on the floor.” That meant it was really busy today. It was a Saturday, after all.

“Sorry, I’ll be right out.”

She nodded, opened her mouth as if to say something, then shook her head, and scurried away.

I saved my work on the computer and hurried out on the floor. The Bed Boutique franchise had been around for about ten years, of which I’d worked five at this location. I was the assistant manager and enjoyed my job, usually. I just…lately it had been difficult to be enthusiastic about anything, and I laid the blame at Seb’s door, the bastard.

I approached a couple who looked anything but friendly. “How may I help you?” I asked, preparing for tons of attitude. Which I got.

“Is this how you people do service? It’s ridiculous,” the woman said, and I noticed the man next to her wince at the strident tone. He seemed resigned to fate.

“My apologies, ma’am. What do you need?” I asked, keeping my voice friendly and soothing, though I wanted to slap the bitch.

In clipped tones, I was told that she required a king-sized bed, duvet, high thread count sheets, the works. It took me an hour to satisfy the woman’s specific, ultra-refined tastes, and the man, whom I assumed was her husband from the matching rings on their fingers, hadn’t said a word the entire time. She was grudgingly thankful for my assistance in the end, and I was finally able to leave them to make their purchases, relieved that was over.

I hung around for another hour until I was no longer needed. After I went back to the office, I slumped in my chair and massaged my throbbing temples. My head was pounding today, and I was miserable. Stress headaches were the worst. I drank some water from my bottle and went back to the work schedule.

Anytime a thought of Seb Paddington strayed into my consciousness, I shoved it down and squashed it beneath my metaphorical heel. When I’d returned from a long walk and solitary dinner the day we’d broken up, Seb had been nowhere to be found. Nothing of him had been left behind. The place had looked quite forlorn.

His scent wasn’t even in my sheets because he’d been working longer hours more and more, and rarely made it to bed long enough to do more than cuddle, if he allowed that. For a while, I’d thought he was cheating on me, and in a way, he had been. With work. With his ambitions. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I’d thought there was more than there actually was. The sex had been hot, always, and perhaps I’d mistaken that compatibility for love. For the ability to make everything else work. Still, it hurt.