I wait until the voices outside have died down, and then I speed out of the bathroom, grabbing my purse and stuffing the rest of my clothes into it as I beeline for the elevator.
“Oh, Cassidy. Morning,” Lark says, from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. If I actually meet his eyes—those sensitive, soulful eyes that I fell so hard for last night—I will lose my shit. Either start to scream or curse him out or just cry. Either way, regardless, I’m not giving him the pleasure.
“I was going to make breakfast,” he’s saying, but I’m already slamming on the button to call the elevator.
“Sorry,” I say, my voice tight. “I’ve got to run. Overslept.”
“Oh… okay.” I can hear the disappointment in Lark’s voice even with my back turned. He pads across the carpet, heading toward me. “Well, can I get your number, at least? I’d love to see you again.”
“I…” Shit. He’s really going to make me do this, he’s going to make me call him out right now. Just then, the elevator reaches our floor and dings open, sparing me. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I step inside and hit the first floor button as fast as I can.
I don’t know what I expect. For him to leap in after and stop me? But when I finally turn around, he’s just standing a couple paces from the elevator doors, watching me with a sad, confused look on his face.
“Cassidy,” he says. Or he tries to, anyway. The doors shut after half of my name, and then I’m sinking down, down, back into the real world.
* * *
I spend the rest of the morning forgetting last night. You let your guard down and made a mistake, I tell myself. It happens. But I fixed it. And now I never have to see that cheating asshole again.
That cheating asshole, who knew exactly where and how to touch you in ways no man has ever touched you before. Who knew just how to make you scream and lose all control…
Fuck.
A long, freezing cold shower later, though, followed by a coffee with a double shot of espresso, and I’m finally ready to face the real world once more. And especially ready to nail my presentation with the investors.
This is it. My big shot. My chance to finally get to share my makeup with more people than just my friends, family members, and the friends-of-friends who have become loyal customers. I started my business out of my own garage with little more than the savings I scraped together from my old job waiting tables. It’s time to take it to the next level.
Worst comes to worst, I remind myself, you can always fall back on waitressing.
But going back to the service industry is, quite frankly, the last thing in the world I want to do. I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of building my own company, something in the fashion industry I’ve always loved. When I discovered I had a knack for chemistry, and combined that with making unique color palettes of eyeshadows and lipsticks, all using eco-friendly ingredients that wouldn’t bother sensitive skin like mine, I finally felt like I was doing the right thing. Like I’d found my path, the one I’m meant to walk.
But, like any startup, money is standing in my way. More specifically, my complete lack of it.
Which is why I need to bring my A-game to this meeting.
I’ve dressed to the nines, in the suit I saved up to buy before I finally gave notice at my waitressing gig. I knew I’d need it for occasions like this, and I’ve kept it pressed and ready. Before I head out, I don my best powerhouse red lipstick, paired with a light, natural eye shade. My nails, thankfully, are still looking good, but I still give myself about five once-overs en route to the fancy high rise office building downtown where I’ll be meeting with the potential investors.
The one thing about trying to sell a makeup brand is that you really need to look like perfection yourself, as the first ambassador for your brand.
At the office building, a secretary greets me by name and leads me to a board room. “The partners will be right with you,” she assures me as she leaves.
My phone pings when the doors shut behind her, and I risk a peek at it. Becky.
So last night was a success??? She adds about a million winking and kissing faces afterward. I steal a quick look at what I texted her and stifle a smile. I must have sent it from the bathroom of the bar where we wound up after the incident.
Won’t be making it home tonight, I told her, but in a good way.
My stomach tenses, reading that now. I remember how excited I felt when I messaged Becky. Like Lark might actually be someone I could see for a while. Not relationship material exactly, but… he interested me. Intrigued me. I can’t even remember the last time a guy did that.