in or what?” Emily says, poking her head out the doors of Sangria, “I ordered another martini for you. Hurry up.”
“Thanks Emily, but I think I am just going to go home.” I sigh and wave down a cab to call it a night.
Chapter 25
The morning of my birthday, I wake up in a state of panic. How did this happen? How did I suddenly reach the quarter century club? I can’t believe how another week has flown by and all I have done is work, work, work, work, work spreading myself thin from open house to open house and client to client, to distract me from my pathetic life.
I brew myself a fresh pot of coffee and sit at my kitchen table letting the soft morning light beam through my patio doors. I fumble through my piles of client contracts, thinking about Jessica and how I have never celebrated my birthday without her. I stare at my phone and hope the longer I glare at it, the more likely it will ring with her on the other end of the line. When my phone does ring, I snatch it up in my fingers optimistic this blocked call may be Jessica. But it isn’t, it’s Blake Donahue, Ben’s rival realtor. He is calling to let me know his clients have accepted Mrs. van den Berg’s counter offer. I thank Blake for the call, and smile from ear to ear. This is the best birthday present ever! I successfully closed the deal on Mrs. van den Berg’s million-dollar listing! I did it!
I call Mrs. van den Berg to give her the good news, but she doesn’t answer. I leave her a message and make myself some breakfast. I am cramming my mouth full of eggs when I get another call, but this time from Clint. He tells me he has heard the good news, and invites me to his office for some champagne to celebrate. I tell him I will stop by (even though it is a Saturday and my birthday), to which he replies he looks forward to it.
By the time I shower, blow dry my hair, and answer a string of birthday calls; I have talked with my mother, then father, then grandmother, and finally my crazy cousin Tiffany, all wanting to wish me a happy birthday. When I pull my phone away from my ear, it is half past noon.
I scurry around my front hall closet, searching for my black boyfriend blazer, to professionalize my dark wash skinny jeans and plain white tank top. I am ten minutes late for my meeting with Clint, and can already see him foaming at the mouth from my tardiness. Just as I am barreling out the door, my phone vibrate with a text message from Michelle:
Happy Birthday Girlie!
So I promptly text her back:
Thanks!
Michelle responds right away:
Remember we’re going out for a drink tonight you old bag. It isn’t everyday you hit the big 2-5!
I cringe at her old bag reference, then text back:
Sounds good. Call me later.
I roll my eyes thinking the last thing I need tonight, is to go out and potentially see either Ben or Jessica. Not that I think either of them would actually attend, knowing I was going to go out for a couple of drinks on my birthday, but I don’t put it past Michelle at all to pull a fast one.
Suddenly I get another text, but this time from Eric:
Happy Birthday Megs! See you tonight?
That’s weird. I haven’t heard from anyone besides Michelle for the past two weeks, and now I am getting simultaneous text messages from everybody? I know it’s my birthday and the perfect excuse to contact someone, but really?
So I text Eric back:
Thanks Eric. Yeah let’s hook up later.
Then my phone starts ringing, and I see its Clint. Oh shit!
“Hello?” I say, sounding as calm as possible.
“Megan? Where the hell are you? We’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes!” Clint shouts into the phone. I can only imagine how red his face is right now, since it always turns a million different shades of crimson when he is on the verge of losing it.
“I’m on my way Clint. Sorry, I was held up. It’s my birthday and – “
“I don’t want to hear a sob story Megan!” Clint yells into the phone, and then whispers, “Mrs. van den Berg is here. Now hurry up.” and clicks off from our conversation.
When I push through Clint’s office door, the first thing