“We’ve bought it, honey. It’s done.” Those were my dad’s first words to me when I got home from the site visit with Carter.

I stared blankly into their beaming faces.

My mom nodded and continued. “The papers are signed. We move in in a week!” She grasped my hands. “Donna, we’ll be out of this hellhole in a week!”

I nodded dully, cast a look around at the food-flecked walls and the body of dust in the corner. Then, finally, I looked at my dad’s newly shaven face, the long slump of a beard now definitively chopped.

I couldn’t tell them the truth about the money. Nor could I give it back, no matter how disgusted I was with its owner. The letdown would kill them.

* * *

The next few days passed as one day. One sad, listless shuffling from work to home and back to work again. One sad, pathetic checking of my phone every five minutes.

Nothing. Carter was done with me. Good. I hated him.

Even Helen noticed the change as, after one of my shifts, I picked at my blueberry muffin. I hadn’t given her explicit details of my encounter with Carter, but she still knew enough.

“Tut, tut,” she said.

She patted me with one hand and brushed some of her mousy brown hair out of her face with the other.

“I did tell you, Donna, didn’t I? I warned you about that sociopathic billionaire.”

I nodded dejectedly. Pretty much the last thing I needed right now was a reminder of how badly I’d messed up.

Leaning in, her green eyes sympathetic, Helen said, “Word on the street is that he’s been out every night at his old haunts—doing the usual.”

Feeling like throwing up, I staggered to the bathroom to find it barred by none other than Kyle.

With an obnoxious smile, he wagged the keys in front of me.

“You always forget, Donna.”

Snatching them, I plunged into the small room and locked it behind me. Glaring at my crying reflection in the mirror, I splashed water on my face until the tears stopped. Once I returned to our table, Helen had her little owl eyes on Kyle.

Leaning in conspiratorially, casting a look at Kyle, who was standing obliviously behind the counter, she said, “Now, why don’t you give Kyle a chance?”

I made another half-hearted poke at my muffin with my fork. In my present miserable circumstances, the proposition didn’t seem as ridiculous as usual.

“Well, you know,” I said unconvincingly. “He’s my boss, and…”

“And so what?” Helen countered. “Then, you could work less and earn more. Listen, Donna, I think you need someone to take your mind off that sociopath.”

“Don’t call him that,” I grumbled.

Taking my hand, Helen let out a “tut, tut” again. “Hey, why don’t we hit up that new bar—the Cruise Room—tonight, the fancy one we’ve been meaning to go to?”

I withdrew my hand, although I nodded.

“All right. Why not?”

With a victorious smile, turning to Kyle, Helen called, “Hey, Kyle, want to go to the Cruise Room with us tonight?”

A few seconds later, Kyle was at our table, his gaze flicking from me to Helen and back to me.

“Yeah. You guys are going? Tonight?”

Helen nodded.

“Yep. Me and this one are going to drown our sorrows, 11 p.m. So you’ll join?”

“Definitely,” Kyle said, lingering for a moment before he picked up on my stoic refusal to even glance in his direction. Gliding off, he said, “See you ladies tonight!”

At my glare, Helen only giggled.

“What? You never said I couldn’t.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it. I was too tired for this.

“I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

Helen nodded.

“Promise me you’ll be there and not bail, yeah?”

With a sigh, I nodded again.

Then, leaning in again, Helen whispered, “Wear something sexy.” Then, her five-fingered wave dismissed me.

So, with a quick nod to Kyle, I slumped out of there, to my car, and drove home.

* * *

Back at home, I only gave my parents a half-hearted “hi” before high-tailing it to my room.

Once there, I realized my mistake. I’d thought I wanted to be alone, but alone was the last thing I needed right now. As I stared dully at the peeling tulip wallpaper across from me, Helen’s words kept replaying in my head: I warned you about that sociopath.

All I could see in that wall’s tears and coils of crumpled flowers was the aforementioned sociopathic billionaire—his shy, pleased smile as I had rejoiced in his cookie gift, the bowled-over way he had looked at me in that sequin dress. I could almost feel the stroke of his hand on my back, that solid way he had held me. And now, I was never going to see him again, never hear his voice again. Unless…

Before I could stop myself, my fingers were dancing over my phone, tapping out the number I’d come to know so well. At the last number, I paused, staring at my barely visible reflection in the black of my phone’s background.

What was the right thing to do? As soon as I knew the answer, it was too late; I was tapping down the last number and then the phone was ringing, my heartbeat hammering out in time to the rings.

One ring, then two, then a female voice answered with a chirpy, “Hello?”

“Hi…Could I speak to Carter?”

A pause, then she asked, “Who is this?”

I hung up, my gaze returning to the peeling wallpaper. Somehow, it had worsened since my short call; it seemed about to drop down onto the floor.

Who could that have been who had answered? A friend? A girlfriend? It hadn’t sounded like Carter’s secretary, and anyway, why would his secretary or anyone else have access to his personal phone?

I sank back into my bed and stared up at the water-stained ceiling. Whatever happened tonight, it couldn’t make me feel any worse than I did now.