him. Why did the front doorman let him through? Didn’t Francis tell them he wasn’t allowed here?
He wasn’t allowed to breathe in the same vicinity because no one wanted an STD. Especially when one walks straight through the front door.
“I’m sorry, you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares about what the hell you’re talking about,” I bite out, gripping the Hollow Ridge Post and reading all the new shit about my dad and Marsha. They’re campaigning for senate. Mayor of Hollow Ridge wasn’t enough, so they had to keep rising higher. Guess the power-hungry whore finally convinced Dad.
“This, Josey!” he yells, and I don’t spare him a glance. My eyes are stuck on an image where I’m photoshopped in. Literally. No one could say this is me with them. For one, I don’t go home, and two, it’s been weeks since we spoke, and this outfit is the one Marsha wore at dinner that horrible night six weeks ago.
Those fuckers.
They knew I wouldn’t campaign with them and make them seem perfect. Why lie for them when they do it much better than me?
“Stop ignoring me, Joey. Fuck,” Wesley complains. I almost forget he’s here. Folding the newspaper, feeling much older than my nineteen years, I see him standing there right beside me. His hair is disheveled, his eyes red, which for once aren’t because he’s high, and his clothes are in a state of disarray. Seems like our split did way more for me than it did for this loser.
Rolling my eyes at his disheveled appearance, I set the newspaper down on the coffee nook and stand. “Why are you here?” It comes out more scathing than intended, but he doesn’t deserve anything less. He starts for me, holding some document in his hands, and I’m already bored.
He doesn’t get to waltz into my new home, one where happiness thrives and cheaters don’t exist.
Wasted time, that’s all I got from this idiot.
“This,” he hisses, nearly crumpling the paper in his hands. “What the fuck is it?!” It’s an accusation, but one which makes zero sense.
How the hell would I know?
Am I a magician who conjures answers out of my ass? VOILA! Answers.
No, dipshit. That’s not how any of this works.
“You ask me as if I’m aware of what you’re going on about. I’m not. So, leave.”
“That’s just great, Joey. Just fucking superb.” He sets the paper down. “Don’t act like you don’t know that you sent your marriage certificate to my apartment.” Not yours, fuckface. It was in my name.
Wait. Did he say marriage certificate? Out of all the words he said, those are definitely the strangest. He couldn’t have. I’m not married. Not... married.
“Did you say marriage certificate?” I balk. The information trickles through my veins like spiderwebs weaving. There’s no—
“That’s what this says right here.”
—way.
My eyes widen, and I feel them trying to pop out of my head as I grip the paper he discarded. The paper, unlike most, is fancy and thick. The watermark of Las Vegas all over it and the holographic emblem on top confirms how not fake this document is.
What the actual fuck?
“When did you get married? The week we broke up? Or were you so enamored with this Tobias Hayes that you didn’t wait even a day?”
I start to interrupt him because there’s no way I would have married anyone, especially Toby.
“No, let me tell you since the paper shows. This was filed three days after we broke up. Three days, Joey. God, I knew you were in your head while we were together, but it seems this Toby loser was probably seeing you for ages, and I was none the wiser.”
“Oh, fuck off. I didn’t cheat on you. This must be some joke from Dad. I didn’t get married.”
He scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. It’s then I notice how gaunt he’s gotten since we broke up. What, did he finally realize how big of a douche he was?
Only took him two years.
Too bad it was a little too late for us both. I’m happy here with Gray and Francis. They’re kind and supportive, and they push me to strive for more. Hell, even working at Mi Casa is nice. There are no strings—other than a five-year obligatory contract—that keep me here. I like it.
Working for someone like Toby was nothing I was prepared for. Unlike his outside demeanor, he’s an amazing manager. His books are perfection, his employees are absolutely wonderful, and he doesn’t belittle me unless it’s in private.