“Molly, I—”
“Oh, save your fucking bullshit for somebody who cares.”
Molly’s tear soaked expression cripples me. She runs out of apartment, slamming the door behind her. She’s still wearing my oversized t-shirt and a pair of girly shorts.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Victor says, and I turn around, remembering that he’s still here.
“Sorry? You’re fucking sorry? What the fuck did you just do?” I shout.
“Any chance you had of reinstating your membership is now ruined, and it’s all my fault,” he says regretfully.
“Yeah, no shit!” I seethe. “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up anyway,” I add. “I don’t even fucking care about the membership anymore. I need to find a way to fix this.”
Victor lets himself out, and I pace my living room floor, wondering if I should run after Molly. I’m fucking clueless. I don’t know what to do. And the crazy thing is that what I said to Victor is totally true. I don’t fucking care about the membership now.
All I care about is Molly. And now I’ve lost her, too.
20
Molly
A slight drizzle begins to trickle outside of my car window as I sit sullenly in the back seat and watch the water droplets gently make their way down, just like the tears I’m holding inside.
Yeah, I know I’m being fucking melancholy; you don’t have to point that shit out to me.
I’m also fucking mad as a hornet.
I’m directing most of this anger at myself more than at Owen. I should know better than to get involved with a guy like that. All guys are the same, but when they’re rich and successful? Magnify that cocky arrogance by like…a million.
I should have known.
We arrive at my office, and the driver puts the flashers on while he runs around the passenger side seat to let me out of the back seat. He opens the door for me and holds up an umbrella.
“Here you go, miss, watch out for that puddle, and please try not to slip.” He gives me a smile and his eyes flash with genuine concern.
If only I could get Owen to care about me like that. Real and genuine. Not some act because he has an ulterior motive. I’m regretful and pouty. Wallowing in self-pity. I should really fucking snap out of it right now.
“Ma’am?” I hear my driver call back to me.
I spin around. “Yeah?”
“Do you want me to pick you up again after business hours?” he asks.
“Yes,” I respond.
I know I’m staring at him blankly, like I’m a fucking space cadet. It’s almost as if I can’t focus on one person or one thing in particular, and I’m just grasping at straws to even put one foot in front of the other.
I shake out my umbrella and push it back down before heading inside the lobby. I hate wet days like this, but as I glance back outside the double doors leading to the street, I notice that the rain is starting to pick up.
I watch as people try to dart around it and run from being completely pelted and soaked.
At least I made it inside before the downpour hit.
See, there’s a silver lining in everything. I can be optimistic when I want to be.
I ride the elevator up to my floor, and when I step out, I force myself into the mindset that I’m going to go about my daily routine and everything will be business as usual.
I’ll try to fucking forget about that prick Owen Wolfe. No wonder his corporation has the name ‘Lone Wolfe.’ No respectable female would dare settle down with the likes of him. I’m a fucking idiot.