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I couldn’t help but watch, dread sinking and settling in my stomach. The woman perched her sunglasses atop her head, revealing kohl-lined blue eyes that appeared to be evaluating everything in their path, and stepped inside the main doors. The air seemed to part for her as she made her way to the front desk—like even oxygen was taken aback by her presence.

“Good morning, Ms. Avery,” the receptionist said, as if she interacted with the woman all the time. “Love that handbag.”

The woman returned the greeting with warmth, then cocked her head toward the elevators. “Is Ian ready? I know I’m a little early.”

Ian.

I wanted to vomit right there on the shiny marble tiles. This was the woman he was going to have lunch with, and she called him Ian. A name, which by his own admission, was only used at one place and for one purpose.

I turned away, closing my eyes. Part of me wanted to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel, that vindictive. But as the footsteps of Ms. Blonde and Gorgeous disappeared into the elevator, and my cab finally pulled up, everything that had been bright and glowing inside me these last few weeks shriveled and died.

I sank into the backseat of the cab, feeling like roadkill. The last time I’d ridden in a taxi, I’d been sandwiched between Foster and Pike on the way to a night of no-strings fun. This time, I wrapped my arms around myself, stared out the window, and sobbed.

THIRTY-ONE

Monday morning I sat outside Dr. Pelham’s office, watching her through the glass and waiting for her to finish a phone call. I’d spent the rest of the weekend after the fight with Foster holed up in my apartment, watching movies with Bailey and doing a chef’s tour of the junk food aisle at the grocery store. It was pathetic. I’d never felt so damn shitty. It was like having the flu without the chest congestion and fever.

But Bailey had informed me that I had every right to be miserable and mopey for a few days. According to her, it was breakup law. However, she’d also laid down the edict that by today, I had to get my shit together because it would be the first day of my new beginning. New job. New me. And, hopefully, in a few weeks, new apartment. Because God knows I couldn’t live next door to Foster anymore.

I hadn’t seen him since the day at 4N. And there’d been no sound from his side of the wall. So either he was out of town or he was sleeping somewhere else. Probably with blond amazons who wore fuck-me boots. My stomach rolled. I forced myself to sip my coff

ee, even though it tasted as bitter as my mood.

Dr. Pelham seemed to sigh as she hung up the phone and frown lines framed her mouth. She glanced over toward the glass, meeting my gaze, then waved me in. I got out of my chair, taking a deep breath to put on my professional face, and went inside.

“Hi there, Cela,” she said, shifting some papers around on her desk.

“Hi, Dr. Pelham, did you enjoy your cruise?”

She smiled, though it seemed a bit tight. “It was lovely. Thank you.”

“Well, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to talk about the pos—”

“I got your email,” she said, cutting me short and pressing her palms to the papers on her desk. “And I’ve been on the phone for the last half hour with Dr. Foreman.”

“Okay,” I said, a little unsure of what Dr. Foreman had to do with anything.

“When you didn’t take the job before I left for my cruise, I gave Dr. Foreman the go-ahead to hire from the other candidates.”

I stared at her, my thoughts going blank. “What?”

“Hon, last I had talked to you, you were planning to go home. And the position needed to be filled. If I had known you were truly considering it . . .” She shook her head, then pulled her reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose, clearly distressed by all of it. “There’s no one I wanted more on my team than you. You’ve been a stellar intern. But another offer has already been extended and accepted. I can’t undo it.”

“Another offer,” I repeated, the words falling from my lips like heavy stones.

“I’m so sorry, Cela,” she said. “I will absolutely write any recommendations you need to apply other places if you plan to stay in town. I know that Dr. Murphy over at Banks Street Emergency needs a—”

“Right.” I stood so abruptly that the gust I caused sent papers fluttering off her desk. “It’s fine. I should’ve . . . it’s my fault . . . I just didn’t . . .”

“Cela,” she said, standing, too, worry on her face.

I pasted on some smile that seemed to belong to someone else. “It’s okay. Thank you, Dr. Pelham. For offering recommendations and for all that you’ve taught me. I’ll let you know. I just . . . I need to take care of some things first.”

She may have said something else, but I was already cruising out the door on automaton legs. I didn’t stop, didn’t go by the front desk to see Bailey. I just kept walking, straight to my car. By the time I stepped into the lobby of my building, I’d gone full numb, my thoughts locked in some suspended state. I was unemployed.

I had no job.

I had no Foster.


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic