I climb inside the cab and slam the door closed behind me and let out a shaky, sobbing breath. I give the driver directions to our apartment. We’re just pulling away when I see Trent burst out of the building. His eyes meet mine for just a moment but I force myself to look away, and then we’re gone.

Tears streak down my cheeks and I brush them angrily away. I don’t know if I’m more upset that this happened — or upset that I let myself get to the point where it bothered me.

I always knew Mister Bigshot and I were temporary. It’s not like the billionaire CEO ever ends up with the junior copywriter. It’s a nice fantasy but it’s not real life.

But somehow I’d let myself get caught up in the dream. Trent was so sweet, so attentive — so fucking sexy — that he had completely made me forget who and what he was. Who and what I was.

Lara was exactly the kind of woman someone like Trent should be with. Tall, blonde, beautiful, successful. She had looked completely at home at that party, and she had totally owned that red dress she was wearing. I could never pull off that kind of cool elegance.

The cab pulls up in front of my building and I make my way to the apartment on unsteady feet. I feel stupid in this gold dress now. All I want to do is sneak past Ally, change into my pajamas, and go to bed.

Of course, Ally, as usual, is in the living room when I try to silently edge the door open.

“You’re home early,” she says. Her eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”

I put my hand over my stomach. The dress is ridiculously soft under my hand. “I think I ate some bad shrimp,” I lie. I’ve gotten surprisingly good at lies since I started seeing Trent.

Ally’s face turns concerned. “Oh, God. That doesn’t sound good. Can I get you anything?”

“No.” I wave her off. “I’m just going to go to bed. Hopefully I can sleep through the worst of it.”

“Okay. Well, just yell if you need anything.”

“Thanks Als.”

I go straight to my room and start yanking the dress off before I even close the door. I shove it deep into the closet where I don’t have to see it. It seems like nothing but a cruel reminder of just how much I’d deluded myself over the last few weeks.

I slip on my pajamas — the ugliest, slubbiest ones I own — and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. I wish I could do what I told Ally — sleep through the worst of it. But I already know that there’s no way sleep will come easy tonight.

* * *

In the morning I’m bleary eyed and exhausted. I think about calling in sick to work but I decide that sticking to a routine might be good for me. Plus I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t secretly hope that Trent would try to see me. I had ignored his message last night — and all his calls — but at work it would be harder to avoid him.

Stepping into the office, I immediately know something is wrong. A hush falls over the cubicles as I walk to my desk. I glance over at Sloane but she has her head bent studiously over her computer and she doesn’t look up as I pass.

I’m just about at my desk when Charlene emerges from her office. Her expression is colder than it’s ever been.

“Come into my office.” She doesn’t bother with any niceties.

I follow her, even though my legs are wobbling. I already know this can’t be good. Like, really not good.

Charlene is already sitting behind her desk by the time I reach her office and she gestures brusquely at the guest chair across from her.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” She’s twisting a pen between her hands and I can see how white her knuckles are.

“What?” I already have a sinking feeling that I know what she’s talking about but I figure I’ll play dumb until she comes right out and says it.

“It’s all over the company’s social media,” she says. She turns her monitor so that I can see the picture. It’s me, in the gold dress, leaning up against Trent. His arm is draped around my waist. We’re both smiling; we both look happy.

Seeing it hurts my heart almost as much as knowing Charlene has seen it.

“I never expected this from you, Hannah,” she’s saying. She’s twisting the pen harder now, and I get the sudden idea that she’s imagining it’s my neck. “But it all makes sense now.”

“I’m sorry, Charlene,” I say. I don’t know what else to say. “It wasn’t … it just sort of happened.”

“You’re fired.”

The words are like an electric shock.

“What? You can’t do that.”

She laughs. “Oh, I must certainly can — and I will. Security will be here to escort you out. Your things will be packed up and sent to you. And don’t expect your boyfriend to protect you — unless he wants HR up his ass for the rest of eternity.”

I’m already getting up out of the chair, stumbling backwards towards the door. I can’t let security walk me out — I can’t imagine anything more humiliating.

“I’m sorry,” I say one more time. I pull open the door to office and fall back out into our cubicle area.

This time I manage to catch Sloane’s eye, but as soon as she sees me looking at her she looks away. She looks pissed — pissed and hurt. I think of all the times I’ve lied to her over the past few weeks, and the sick feeling in my stomach gets even worse.

I hit the button for the elevator but it seems to take forever to come. I can feel everyone’s eyes on my back. Sloane, and Jim, and Charlene, and everyone else on our team, all the people that were starting to feel a little like friends. I can’t even imagine what they all must think of me now.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the elevator doors slide open. I get in and hit the button for the ground floor, but then it seems to take another hour for the doors to actually close. Sloane is looking at me again, and this time I’m the one who looks away. I don’t want her to see the tears that are falling from my eyes. She probably thinks I’m getting exactly what I deserve.

Maybe she’s right.

When I finally stumble out onto the city street, the sunlight feels blinding. I have to hold my hands up over my eyes. I scan the street for a cab and then realize I don’t have a job anymore. No more splurging on cabs. I’ll have to take the subway.

A fresh wave of tears prick my eyes. I can’t even parse through everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours — Trent kissing Lara. Losing my job. Sloane hating my guts.

This is a disaster.

And the worst part is, I totally should have seen it coming.

I mean, what did I think was going to happen?

I trudge to the train and slowly make my way back to my apartment. Soon I’m going to have to tell Ally what happened, and then I can add another disaster to the running tally — hurting my sister.

* * *

“Jesus, you scared me!” Ally is in her chair in the kitchen, unloading some dishes from the dishwasher, when I open the front door of the apartment. “What are you doing home? Can you get that?” She gestures at the coffee mug that fell from her hands when she startled.

I pick up the mug and put it in the cupboard. I don’t want to answer her question. I just want one more minute of pretending not to be a total fuck-up.

Ally stops unloading dishes and is staring up at me. Sudden understanding crosses her face. She nudges the chair a couple of feet closer to me.

“You lost your job, didn’t you? Trent? He fired you?”

“No — I mean, yes. But not like that. Not exactly.” I flop down at the kitchen table and the whole story comes tumbling out — the launch party with Trent, seeing him kiss Lara, Charlene firing me today.

When I finish, she’s quiet for a minute.

“I think you need a glass of wine.”

I’d been mentally preparing for the worst so her words actually make me laugh.

“It’s, like, ten in the morning.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Are you really going to argue with me?”

I laugh again. “Okay, no.”

She goes to the fridge and pours a glass of white out of an open bottle. She hands it to me and then shrugs and pours one for herself too.

“So… do you hate me?” I ask, after I’ve taken a fortifying gulp of wine.

Ally looks surprised. “Of course not! What a stupid question.”

“But we talked about this … without my income, we can’t afford this apartment.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not stressed about it, but we’ll figure something out.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Do you think there’s a chance Trent would give you your job back?”

I consider her question. I hadn’t thought about it — he had always promised me I wouldn’t lose my job over this, but we had both neglected to factor Charlene into the equation. Obviously he could easily go above her head and give me my job back — or even if not that one, maybe there was somewhere else in the company he could put me. Charlene had threatened HR action, but Trent had to be above that, didn’t he?

I start to feel almost hopeful. Of course, this means having to actually suck it up and ask the man for my job back — and ignoring what I’d seen last night at the launch party.

I glance over at Ally. Even though she hasn’t said anything, I can see the way her forehead is already starting to crease with worry. She’s had so many obstacles already — I have to make sure my naivety isn’t one of them.