Later that morning, I got a text. I smiled and grabbed my phone like a sixteen-year-old girl, thinking it was Jason.

To my surprise, it was the opposite of Jason.

Jared: Hi, sexy. You ready for me tonight?

Just reading his text made me queasy. I had no bloody idea what he was talking about, and “sexy”? Since when did he call me that?

I considered not answering back, admonishing myself for not changing my cell number after I broke it off with him. Damn.

Me: Um, what’s tonight?

I texted back, kicking myself for even answering. Let sleeping dogs lie, Granny would say. But my curiosity got the best of me.

Jared: It’s the banquet. Did you forget? You promised you’d go with me. You aren’t backing out, are you?

Oh, right. The annual sales banquet. Dammit, that totally slipped my mind. I did promise to go with him, under duress, but still.

Jared was super upset when I finally called it quits. To this day, I couldn’t believe someone could be so daft, not seeing a breakup coming. But for him, it shot out of left field, which really just cemented my decision. We’d had umpteen conversations about how I wasn’t happy and felt that our relationship was one-sided. Conversations that fell on deaf ears. Nothing ever changed, and he didn’t feel like anything was wrong. Jared was happy how things were. And I was bored out of my mind.

Loyalty could be a great quality, but it also held you back if you let it. I was loyal to a fault, so it was my greatest strength but also my biggest weakness. My stomach churned as I thought of how many sleepless nights I spent deciding what to do about Jared.

On paper, he was the ultimate catch: handsome, great job, well-educated, lots of money. But the problem was that his personality was about as flat as that piece of paper. Dull. Boring. Routine. Even the sex. Just once I wanted him to break free from his monotonous mold and do something crazy, something life affirming, and daring. Like running with scissors.

Or buying a motorcycle. Now that would’ve grabbed my attention. Jason’s bike was hot. There was really no other word for it. The sensation of it vibrating underneath me, my girl parts all pressed up tight to his leather-clad, muscular back.

And Jason’s willingness to get a tattoo on the fly was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. No time to ponder or think—he just did it. It wasn’t like it was his first tat. I’d counted and examined more than a few on his perfect torso alone. But it was his ability to let go and have fun that really hooked me in. Even when he helped me in the kitchen, he somehow made that fun, too.

Going to this stupid banquet with Jared was going to be anything but fun. The anti-fun. After I broke the news about our already dead relationship being officially over to Jared, he cried like a baby. I’m not talking his eyes got a little wet and glossy, or he had to “take a moment”. The dude bawled. Never in my life had I witnessed something so distressing and awkward. I had to go digging in my big purse for tissues. Talk about uncomfortable.

Obviously, I didn’t expect him to be happy that I was ending things, but in no way, shape, or form did I see this reaction coming. He hadn’t shown that much emotion cumulatively during our entire relationship. Then right there in front of me he let it fly.

I was all for guys showing and discussing their feelings, but holy cow, that was a bit much. Wanting to make the sobbing and sniffling stop, I had agreed to attend the banquet with him, even though it was still months away.

No way in hell did I expect I’d have to hold up my end of the bargain. I figured once he got home and realized how he’d embarrassed himself, I’d never see or hear from him again. How he had the nerve to call, still expecting me to go with him to this thing, I’d never understand.

Well, I guess he didn’t call. He texted. Coward.

I had to make an appearance at this senseless thing tonight, watch idiots get awards, clap, watch some more idiots get awards, clap. Rinse, repeat. But if nothing else, I was a woman of my word. Although I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing him again, I suppose there were worse things in life than spending a few hours sitting beside the most boring man in the universe. I couldn’t actually think of anything worse right now, but I was sure there must be something.

Me: Not backing out. I’ll meet you there at eight?

I texted back to him, thinking that was a great plan. No awkward meet-up beforehand, and I could make a clean getaway after the festivities were over.

Me: Just so we’re both clear on one thing. This doesn’t mean we are getting back together. You understand that, right?

I was blunt and to the point when I had to be. There was no way I wanted him thinking that this was his ticket back into my life.

Jared: Okay, but I’ll pick you up. See you at seven.

Oh, I didn’t think so. An extra hour with him? Nope.

Me: No, I’ll meet you there at eight. I hate these awards dinners. Want to spend as little time there as possible.

Jared: I don’t want to be late. Pick you up at your place at seven. Walking into a meeting now, turning off my phone.

Bullshit.

Me: No, I said I’ll meet you there!

I got nothing back, so I sent it a few more times, waiting for a response. Nothing. Shit. In utter frustration, I dialed his number. Screw his meeting. If he was being a passive-aggressive dick, he deserved to be interrupted.

No answer. Shit. I felt a cold sweat coming on. I may have to get back in the shower. What a complete dick. This was low, even for him.

After staring daggers through my phone to no avail, I gave up and kept getting ready for the day, all the while thinking nothing good could come from an impromptu reunion with my ex.

I tried roughly a million times to contact Jared throughout the day. Nothing. Sneaky bastard.

Early afternoon, as I was driving to a meeting at a local restaurant, my phone went off. My stomach twisted in hopes that it was Jared, the big dick. I pulled over to the side of the road so I could answer him.

Jason: How’s your day going? Wanna meet up later?

Oh boy, Jason. My heart sank to my stomach and my stomach dropped them both on the highway beneath me. Damn. What should I say? I didn’t want to explain the Jared situation to him. We were still brand new, and I’d rather not complicate things by bringing up my past. A past that I would be sitting beside for a few hours then never see again.

Jason seemed open and understanding, but I sure didn’t want to push it. We hardly knew each other, and there was really no good reason to dump all Jared’s bullshit onto him. He didn’t deserve it. It was just one night.

My stomach clenched as I prepared to tell a white lie. I never lied. Occasionally, I might make the truth sound as appealing as possible. That was my job as a salesperson, after all. But I never, ever, ever out and out lied. I knew a lot of salespeople who did, some who were extremely successful, too. But that kind of stuff never sat well with me. To me, the secret of selling was truly believing in your product. With my job, I did, so I never had to lie and bullshit people into trusting me.

Me: Hard day today and I have a thing tonight I forgot about. Can’t get together. Maybe tomorrow?

Please don’t ask what kind of thing. Please don’t ask what kind of thing.

Jason: What kind of “thing”?

Shit.

Me: Just a boring awards thing, but I’m expected to go.

Jason: Need a date? I clean up well.

Oh my God, could this guy get any nicer? He was volunteering to take me to the most boring thing on Earth. Volunteering. The weird thing was, I actually would love to go with him. He’d find all kinds of ways to make it not suck.

I waited too long to respond, so he sent another text.

Jason: Come on. There must be a coatroom we can sneak off to...

See? He was already thinking of how to make the night more appealing. Jason in a dark coatroom alone was very appealing. I clenched my thighs together just thinking about it.

Me: Sounds like a fun way to spend the night, lol. Thanks for the offer, but I’m just going to go stag. Get in and get out. I’ll call you when I get home if it’s not too late, okay?

I was going straight to Hell. How could I lie to this man who had been nothing short of wonderful to me?

Jason: Okay, baby. If you change your mind, let me know. Have a good time and yes, call me when you get home no matter what time.

My palms started sweating at my deception and my heart raced. It was dumb, I knew that, but I hated lying. In this case, though, it was just easier, and I’d save Jason from my idiotic past.

Me: Thanks. I’ll call you.

I finished typing, then threw my phone onto the passenger seat, scared that it would burst into flames from all the lies I’d written on it.

Normally I loved getting ready for big events: the hair, the makeup, the fancy dresses. Tonight, my excitement was curled up, rocking back and forth in a corner, staring suspiciously out at the world. More than a few times I decided to call Jason and come clean. Once I even picked up my phone, ready to dial, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d already dug myself quite a hole, I might as well stay in it.

Just because I wasn’t looking forward to attending didn’t mean I wouldn’t go full out. My makeup was awesome, deep golden tones with just the right amount of dramatic shading. Flawless. If there was one thing I was great at, it was makeup application. For some reason, I had the touch.

My hair took me a million hours to do, but it was fabulous, too. Long, wide curls trailing down my back. I pulled the sides back with a sweet rhinestone clip because I didn’t want too much hair in front because my off-the-shoulder dress was amazing. Showing off my bare shoulders made me feel regal and dignified, not to mention sexy as hell.

My dress also served a second purpose—to hide my still-healing tattoo. It came up just high enough to cover the gauze. Honestly, if I’d known what a pain in the ass the healing process was, I would never have gotten it done. Or maybe I’d have chosen a different spot. Suddenly, my mind started wandering what other tats might look good on various parts of my body. Maybe Jason could help me pick something out.

I smiled at the thought of us back in the tattoo parlor. How he held my hand, knowing I was in pain, then talked me through it. Every bone in my body wished I were going to this banquet with him instead of my flaky ex.

Just as I finished up my lipstick, my doorbell rang. Crap.

What a fucking dolt. This guy barely got into my car when he started bragging about how he was banging this chick we were picking up.

Like I fucking cared.

He seriously wouldn’t shut up about her “huge tits” or her “juicy ass”. It wasn’t like I encouraged him either. All he got out of me was the occasional nod and fake smile. The dude needed to shut up.

“I kid you not, man. This woman is incredible. Wait until you see her. She will totally blow your mind. And other things,” he said, hitting me on the arm while he laughed like some perverted lunatic. What an idiot. I felt sorry for the poor girl who was apparently “stuck on him like glue”. Yeah, that was original.

“I’m going to ask her to move in with me tonight. She’s hinted a million times that she wants to be closer to me. I think now is the time, you know? Sometimes you just have to take that leap.”

In an effort to keep the conversation away from tits and ass, I contributed, “You don’t want to move in with her?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Buddy, her house is cute, but it’s a fucking black hole of renovations. She’s always doing some shit to it, making a huge mess. I can’t live in chaos and disorganization. When she moves in with me, hopefully someone will take that money pit off her hands for a fair price.” He gazed out the window. “I’ll be saving her a lifetime of putting lipstick on a pig.”

He probably would since I picked him up from a brand new build in a snooty upper-class neighborhood. The house—mansion—looked beautiful from the outside, but in a cookie-cutter, completely unoriginal way. No class, no style, and absolutely void of charm. Much like its owner.

He’d spent some serious dough on it, though. New houses up there weren’t cheap. Of course, by the way he dressed, he could afford it. After spending a few minutes with him, it became glaringly obvious he was a douche.

I mean, what kind of a guy spoke like that to a total stranger about a girl he supposedly loved? A serious asshole.

“But her tits, man. Oh fuck, just wait until you see them.” Fuck me. Were we there yet? I sure hoped so because if I had to listen to this clod for one more minute, I was going to push him and his attitude out the door.

As we turned down a familiar street, I couldn’t help the sense of dread that suddenly gripped my stomach and stopped my lungs from working. It couldn’t be. Just a coincidence. Relax.

“This monstrosity up here. Just park in front, and I’ll go in and get her,” he said as we pulled up to Vivienne’s house.

Yes, you heard me correctly. Vivienne’s motherfucking house.