I smiled. Some of my favorite memories of Brett were exactly those—simple memories of us waking up in my extra-long twin bed in my dorm room. Trying to sneak him out before the hall managers of my dorm caught him in my room. Eating in the cafeteria together between classes and poking fun at how bad the food was. Scraping quarters together just to go get a cup of coffee on the main drag that ran through campus.
Tucking his thick black hair behind his ear before kissing the tip of his nose.
I smoothed my hands down my face. Fucking hell, things had ended so badly between us. That was probably why I hadn’t seen him, despite the fact that he was supposed to be the one conducting the interview. As a main manager, I reported to him. We’d have to converse at some point in time, whether it be through email or telephone calls or in-person meetings. He couldn’t avoid me forever, if that was what he was doing.
But with how badly things ended between us, I couldn’t blame him. I’d avoid me, too, if I were in his shoes.
The storm that took us out was just as perfectly terrible as our start had been perfectly beautiful. I let too many people get inside my head. Not to mention, his sister was a raging bitch. We’d let too many people fill our heads with too many lies. Katie didn’t like him. Ever since she’d claimed to see him in the coffee shop with another girl, she’d instantly written him off. I’d confronted Brett about it. Asked him if there was someone else. And even though he claimed there wasn’t, Katie kept chirping in my ear.
“I saw him with her again.”
“They were walking across the lawn.”
“Holding hands.”
“I saw him kiss her. I’m serious, Olivia. It’s him. I’d know him anywhere.”
I let her get into my head. And every time I brought it up with Brett, he’d have something to fire back. “Well, my sister said this” or “my sister said that” or “my sister says you’re not good enough for me, but you don’t see me listening to her.” I could have strangled his sister. I loved his family. Every single one of them. They’d taken me in like I was one of their own. From the time I’d first stepped into their massive mansion so Brett could introduce me, they had accepted me into the fold. And it felt incredible, especially after the way I had been raised.
My father had taken off when I was seven and never once looked back. Not for me or for my younger brother. My mother struggled to raise us. She did the best she could, but I watched her kill herself to feed us. I watched her dehydrate herself so we could have the last of the filtered water in the fridge. I’d watched her struggle, day in and day out.
Which was why I needed the job so badly. When I graduated college, I was determined to help her out, to take care of her the way she had taken care of me. I’d graduated with a degree in psychology but didn’t look deep enough into the career fields to figure out what was required of me after that. I’d been too busy sucking on Brett’s face to figure it out. So, once I was slapped with the reality that I needed at least a master’s to pursue what I really wanted to do, all my plans went out the window.
Including Brett, when he broke up with me after my graduation ceremony.
As much as I wanted to hate him for it, I couldn’t. The last year of our relationship had been so fraught with “he said, she said” bullshit that I was ready to end it all myself. Katie was forever insistent that he was regularly cheating on me, and Brett’s sister kept chattering away in his own ear, saying things like I wasn’t good enough for him and how I’d never amount to anything that his mother or father wanted out of a daughter-in-law. It wore the both of us down, and I knew the reason why Brett ended things was because he was tired of the drama.
I had been as well.
Didn’t stop the breakup from hurting, though.
Four years. We’d been together my entire college career. But the second I graduated, reality struck. Brett left, my student loans were due, and I realized I’d never be able to pay them back if I pursued a master’s degree. Even with scholarships, I’d still have to take out loans in order to open my own clinical practice in order to help people the way I wanted to, the way I’d always been passionate about. I’d had no idea I’d need more schooling after four years of college. The only thing I was qualified to do with a Bachelor’s in Psychology was social work.