End of the Innocence(3)

“But you said yes.”

“Yes, I said yes!” I suddenly realized that my best friends didn’t really know my connection to Brad, the fact that I loved him. So much had slid by under their radar. They didn’t know about Brad’s family, about the situations that had pushed us together faster than normal relationship protocols allowed. I suddenly picked up on the odd tone of Olivia’s voice—not exactly enthusiastic—caution lacing her words. “I love him,” I said quickly.

“It hasn’t been very long, Jules. And you just broke off your last engagement—”

“This is different. Brad isn’t Luke.”

“You got that right.” The words were spoken under her breath, and I didn’t know whether to take them as praise or criticism.

I drove in silence for a moment, not sure of what to say, the pressure building as my car neared the office. I haven’t prepared, I don’t know what to say to the office, I need to go.

“Well ...” Olivia drawled. “Becca is passed out on my couch. I’ve got a nine AM class, so I’ll leave her here. But we need to celebrate. Los Compadres at six?”

I bit my bottom lip. I love the girls and wanted to share the excitement of my engagement. But I would also need to find out how Brad’s meeting with his father went, how his wing of the office responded, share my own stories of whateverthehell was about to happen inside the firm’s prestigious walls. I turned on my blinker, pulled up, and got a ticket for the parking garage. “Another night, O. Give Becca a giant hug when she wakes up, and I’ll call you guys tomorrow.”

“I’d say you only get engaged once, but with your track record ...” I heard the screech of hangers as she finished the flat sentence, irritation coating the words.

“Love you, too, Olivia.”

“Yeah. And congrats.” She made the word sound as non-congratulatory as humanly possible.

“Thanks.” I made a face and ended the call. Stuffing the phone into my purse, I pulled into a spot. I took a moment—a head against the headrest, take a deep breath, put a fucking game face on moment—that did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. Then I, with my big ass rock, opened the car door.





Chapter 3

7:45 a.m.: The doomed walk of the dead through the lobby. I shielded my ring finger with my purse and smiled a brief hello to Ancient Dorothy, bee-lining for the elevators. I rode up alone, taking advantage of the silence to whisper a short prayer—apologizing for any recent sins and praying for compassion.

I was making coffee when the first person noticed the ring. It was hard to miss, sparkling brilliantly under overhead fluorescents, and Beverly, the wing’s secretary, pounced on it like a kitten going after catnip. “What is that?” She dropped her lunch box in the fridge and grabbed my hand with both of hers, oblivious to the dirty coffee filter I was holding, and I watched in irritation as used grounds flew everywhere, spotting the white tile with black specks. Her squat body was rooted to the ground, and she gripped my hand with a warrior’s intensity, her eyes fixated on the ring like it was a steaming hot funnel cake. I tried to gently tug my hand away, but it was like trying to pull Excalibur’s sword from the stone.

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone!” Beverly’s eyes left the stone and focused on me intently. “Did you get back together with your ex?”

“Errr ... No.” I smiled, though I think it came off more like a grimace. “This is someone new.”

“And you’re already engaged?” She tilted her head at me, puzzled, and I cursed the day I ever shared a moment of personal discussion with this woman, or any other creature on this floor.

“Yes. It is quite sudden.” I looked pointedly at the deflated coffee filter, and she released my hand with a quick, hurried movement.

“Oh my goodness, dear, I am sorry.”

I smiled and moved to the trash, dumping the filter and hoping she would leave.

“That is quite a ring. What does your fiancé do?” She moved closer, officially entering my personal bubble.

Aw crap. “He’s an attorney,” I said offhand, washing my hands as noisily as possible, then started opening and closing cabinets, trying to put as many items and sounds between Beverly and me as possible. “I really can’t chat, Beverly. I’ve got to get this coffee on.”

“An attorney!” She beamed proudly. “Well, I know lots of attorneys. You know, I’ve been here thirteen years, and our cases involve firms from all over the city. He’s got to be a new attorney, maybe he interned here. What’s his name?”