Wild Nights With My Brother’s Ex-Best Friend novel Chapter 31

NICOLE

One Month Later….

The alarm goes off and I immediately crack an eye open and groan as I turn to my side to grab my phone and switch the damn thing off.

It’s seven AM-the reason why I’m waking up this early is that I have a job interview in an hour. I should’ve been up two hours ago to get ready for it, but it’s nearby, and anyway, I haven’t been putting special care into my appearance.

I just have to shower, pull my hair back, apply some gloss to my lips, get dressed, and get fucked.

I mean going.

Get going.

I sit up with a groan. Lately, I’ve been more tired than usual and I have no reason why. I mean, I do, but it’s gotten worse.

My mental health is on a gradual decline and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It doesn’t help that I haven’t been home since I left that stupid party. I’ve been ignoring everyone’s calls and eventually, blocked all of them. I can’t deal with anything I’ve done right now. And yes, that’s extremely immature and highly unlikable on my part, but my shame is crippling.

I’m having a hard time even looking in the mirror these days.

I figured I’d get a few days to myself to think about how I was going to approach things. The truth is that I was waiting for Roman to at least call and try to explain what I saw, because at some point, I convinced myself that maybe he truly loved me, and that his situation with Carmen was more complicated than I initially assumed.

But he never called. And I spiraled and sank deeper into this hole of shame that formed around me.

So, the days went by, and I couldn’t face what I’d done. I felt too ashamed-I still do. I’ve been staying at this cheap motel with really low daily rates, which is all I can afford. My savings are running out, though, and if I don’t find a job, I’m not going to be able to survive.

I kind of understand what Mason kept telling me-it would’ve been easier for me if I’d done internships fresh out of college. I wouldn’t have had a harder time finding something suitable.

My last resort will most likely be working at a fast food joint or even in retail, but I’m not ready to go down that road yet.

Gosh. There are so many things I wish I’d done differently. Yes, keeping Wings of Grace alive was a beautiful effort, and I’m sure Ma would be proud of me, but it came at a hefty price.

Still. I’m 25 and have the whole world ahead of me, right? It can’t be too late to try to establish myself in the world.

I have a lukewarm cup of instant coffee before heading out the door. The job I’m applying for is for a secretarial position at this new law firm. It opened recently and I’m hoping they won’t be too demanding.

I’m the first to arrive, hence the first to be interviewed.

The man conducting the interview is fairly charming, with light brown hair and huge glasses. I don’t like the way his gaze lingers, though. I sit across from him, cross-legged, and watch as he goes through my CV. It doesn’t take him long because I don’t have that much experience.

“Well,” he finally says, setting it down. “I’m sure you know your chances aren’t great.”

I wasn’t expecting him to be this direct, but I nod and strive to remain professional and calm. “Yes. I’ve mostly worked with non-profits-”

“That your mother founded,” he finishes for me as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. I don’t say anything else. He leans forward and says, “Look. You sound like an intelligent woman, and I quite admire your work and your passion. I have a deep respect for non-profit organizations. This could work, though. I’m not saying it won’t.”

I’m confused by his choice of words. With a small grin, he stands up and starts to make his way around the table. “I’ll be honest with you, Miss Monroe. I’m not picky about who ends up being my secretary. What I want —” he leans against the table and his leg brushes mine-“is someone…open-minded.”

I get nauseous as soon as I finish, and race to the bathroom to throw up. I heave until there’s nothing else, then I sink to the ground, clutching my head and feeling terrible.

I don’t care that there are germs on the bathroom floor-after what I did with Roman? Germs should be afraid of how dirty I am.

My head hits the stall of the wall. A few beats pass, then I hear someone flush. That gets me to my feet. I flush, too, and go over to the basins to wash my hands and rinse my mouth.

A woman who appears to be in her forties is washing her hands, too. She glances at me and smiles sympathetically. “Morning sickness?”

“No,” I answer, lathering my hands. “Just ate something bad, maybe.”

“Oh. Well, good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say, watching her as she walks away. I straighten my back and grab some paper towels to dry my hands. I’m thinking of her words compulsively.

Morning sickness?

And then, it hits me like a ton of bricks right over my head.

When was the last time I got my period?

“Fuck,” I say out loud.