She muttered under her breath about how I was delusional, her cane thumping along as she made her way to the back. It was only once she was gone that I let the smile drop.
The woman was insufferable, truly. Not even an eternal optimist like me could spin a silver lining about working for her. Except that maybe remembering her in the future would make any boss I could have seem like a shiny angel in comparison.
What should have been my dream job, showing off my unique town and bragging about the people in it all day for a living, was always at least five notches less dream-worthy whenever Mildred was around. Regardless of how much I loved my job, I’d been looking for something else for ages because of her.
One of the only drawbacks of living in a town with only five to six hundred permanent residents was that jobs weren’t exactly a dime a dozen. So, for now, Mildred and I were stuck together.
The door to her office closed, and I settled in to respond to some emails, ready to send links to some of the accommodation options in town and arranging air taxis for inbound tourists. When I opened the program, though, it wasn’t a request for an itinerary that caught my eye first but an email from my best friend.
Jessie ran a bed and breakfast out of her old family estate home on one of the bluffs. Her email address was one that popped up in my inbox often, but it wasn’t just because we worked in the same industry.
She knew exactly how I felt about Mildred, and since she’d been trying to lure me over to the B&B for years, she liked to remind me regularly of who I worked with instead of her.
I couldn’t take her up on her offer, though. As much as I’d rather have been working at the B&B with her than here with Mildred, I wasn’t in the business of taking handouts. It’d been drilled into me by my father back in the day that people had to stand on—or fall from—their own two feet.
He’d been so adamant about it that I now had something of a complex about accepting that kind of help. I appreciated her emails about Mildred, though.
Today she had attached a funny meme making fun of my boss and comparing her to a toad. A loud shout of laughter escaped me, but then I clamped my hand over my mouth, turned bright red, and deleted the email just as said person came around the counter.
That had been way too close for comfort. I really needed to start paying more attention to her. Cane or no cane, she could move like a ninja when she wanted to. I wonder whether she’ll let me attach bells to her shoes for Christmas this year.
I doubted it. The woman wouldn’t know the festive spirit if it bit her in the ass, but it was worth a try. If I’m still here by Christmas, I swear I’ll give it my best shot.
It wasn’t much of an “if.” Chances were that I’d still be here by next Christmas and even the one after that. But, hey. A girl’s gotta dream, right?
Right. I squared my shoulders. I wouldn’t give up, no matter how long it took. Anna Holland was no quitter.
Except that I wanted to quit my job. I’d also quit the only romantic relationship I’d ever been in. Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a quitter. But not with everything. Not with this.
Chapter 3
WILLIAM
Saturday morning rolled around and greeted me with a hangover like I’d never felt before. Although I didn’t make a habit of hitting the hard stuff too often, I was no stranger to feeling like a furry creature had died in my mouth. I was also well acquainted with tiny gnomes in my head digging their axes into my skull as they tried to burrow their way out.
But this was not just that. I felt like I’d been hit with a cargo train loaded up with straight vodka. White spirits, especially the good shit, didn’t usually leave a stench behind but I could smell it evaporating from my pores as soon as I opened my eyes.
Gently bringing my arm over my head after snapping my stupid eyes shut again, I realized that I was in for a mountain of pain for the rest of the day. I reached for my nightstand and tapped around on it as I looked for my phone. The clock on it had already told me it was just before noon with those judgy red numbers glowing at me, but I needed to figure out what the fuck had happened last night.
My fingers finally brushed against something hard and rectangular, and I let out a sigh of relief. Well, whatever happened, at least I didn’t lose my phone.
As luck would have it, I might not have lost it but I hadn’t plugged it in either. In my drunken state, I must have passed the hell out when I hit my bed.
Groaning as I made the herculean effort it took to roll over, find the cord, and plug it in, I got the job done and rolled onto my back. As I stared up at my bedroom ceiling, I began to piece together why I felt like such a wreck.
The shots.
The dance-off.
Going outside for air.
The paparazzi.
The questions.
Angelina had fucking cheated on me. After Dave and I had left the club, we’d come back here where we’d proceeded to drink our way through my liquor collection like it was Red Bull. Fuck.
I squeezed my eyes shut so hard that they hurt. Nausea rolled in my gut when all I kept seeing were the pictures of Angelina with him. Between the pictures and the videos that had flooded all my inboxes, there wasn’t a second of it that wasn’t seared into my brain for the rest of time.
My Angelina. Kissing another man. Passionately.
His hand had been clearly visible going under her skirt, and considering it hadn’t had much length, there was no doubt what his fingers had been aiming for. Disgust made bile rise to the back of my throat, fury whipping through my veins hot on its heels.
How could she let someone else kiss her? Touch her? Why?
Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but I was pretty sure there wasn’t a couple in the world who could honestly say theirs was. We always had a good time together, and the sex was phenomenal—and I knew she wasn’t faking for reasons that were too graphic to think about with a hangover when I didn’t even know who she was waking up to this morning.
If our problem wasn’t in the sack, it had to be somewhere else. But where? We talked and spent a lot of time together. I bought her everything she wanted, kissed her for nothing, and kissed her again for everything. I even bought her flowers at least once a week just because I appreciated her.
That last bit was a result of my hometown roots showing, I was sure, but my first girlfriend had taught me well. Anna. Fuck. When was the last time I even thought about her?
If my mind had turned to Anna, it was time to stop the fucking wallowing. Throwing the six-million-thread-count sheets Angelina had insisted on off of me, I stumbled out of bed and went to find Dave.
He had to be around here somewhere. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t just have left my place in the dead of night, drunk as a lord and a skunk combined. Ha. Lord Skunk. I should make a movie out of that.
Shoving the thought aside when I found him in one of my living rooms, I grimaced when I realized he was lying face down in puddle of his own drool. It pooled on the sofa beneath his head, but at least the snore that ripped out of him told me he was still alive.
Our livers are going to hate us for at least a month after this. Using my forearm to swipe clammy sweat from my forehead, I leaned over to shake his shoulder.
“Dave? Bud? You in there?”
My friend groaned but didn’t move until I gave him a solid shove. His eyes were wild when they opened, looking around frantically until he recognized his surroundings.