Reasonable Doubt: Volume 3
Page 10

 Whitney G.

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“I need to talk to you.” I blurted out. “Now.”
He motioned for me to take a seat, but he continued talking. “Yes. That will work as well.”
I sat and crossed my arms, trying not to stare at him too hard. He was utter perfection today—looking more f**k-able than usual with a fresh hair-cut and a brand new grey suit. His eyes regarded me intensely as usual, and I noticed he was actually wearing the watch I gave him. He’d even paired it with matching cufflinks.
Maybe I’m overreacting after all…
“Right…” He leaned back in his chair and typed a few things onto his keyboard. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock tonight, Sandra. Room 225.”
My stomach dropped.
“Something I can help you with, Miss Everhart?” He hung up the phone. “Is there any reason why you barged into my office without knocking?”
“You’ve f**ked someone else already?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“Did you f**k someone else already? Did you?”
“Would it matter?”
“Yes, it would f**king matter…” My blood boiled as I stood up. “Did you sleep with someone else?”
“Not yet.” He narrowed his eyes at me and stood up too, walking over to me. “However, I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
I looked at his wrist. “Why are you wearing that watch if you don’t feel the same way I do?”
“It’s the only watch that matches my new cufflinks.”
“Are you seriously this blind?” There were tears welling in my eyes. “Are you—”
“I told you a long time ago that I don’t do feelings—that if we ever did f**k, that would be the end of us.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “However, I do realize that by crossing the line with you, personally and professionally, that a percentage of the blame is mine.”
“A percentage?”
“Would you like me to bring in the firm’s accountant? I’m sure he can work out the exact figure.”
“Andrew…” I was on the verge of losing it.
“Since we did break the boundaries, and we were in fact friends before, I’m willing to revert to that arrangement.”
I shook my head as he tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes.
“We can still talk on the phone at night,” he said. “You can tell me about your ballet, your parents, your life…And, to be sensitive to your feelings, I’ll tell you about my life but I’ll leave out my one night stands until you’re completely over whatever the hell you think we had.”

“I told you that I loved you…” The words rushed out of my mouth.
“I told you that you shouldn’t have.”
“You can’t really be this callous and cold of a person, Andrew…”
“What do you want me to say, Aubrey?” His tone changed. “Your pu**y was so magical that it opened my eyes and made me want to change all my ways for you? That I can’t live or breathe without knowing that you’re by my side? Is that what you’re expecting me to say?”
“No.” I tried not to cry. “A simple apology for—”
“Kicking your inquisitive ass out of my apartment?” He was glaring at me. “For trying to prevent you from feeling like you do right now? Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”
I resisted the urge to spit in his face and stepped back. I officially despised him. “You are so not the man I thought you were.”
“Good, because I’m sure that man is quite pathetic.” He briefly shut his eyes and sighed. “Look, Aubrey…”
“It’s Miss Everhart.” I hissed as I walked toward the door. “Miss. Fucking. Everhart. But not to worry, you’ll never have to worry about using it because you won’t be seeing me again.”
I slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows on the other side of the hall. I ignored the suspicious look from Jessica as I stormed to the parking lot, and sped all the way to the bank.
I withdrew every dollar out of my savings account, and called the bus depot downtown—asking what the fare was for a one-way ticket to New York City.
“That would be seventy nine eighty six,” the operator said. “It’s ten dollars cheaper if you buy a roundtrip ticket.”
“I won’t be needing a round trip ticket.” I steered my car into my apartment’s lot. “Can you tell me when the next bus leaves?”
“Tonight. Would you like me to book that for you now?”
“Absolutely.” I recited my credit card info from memory, and listened as she told me about how I needed to take a walk on the Brooklyn Bridge whenever I had the chance.
The second I hung up, I arranged for a cab and sent a quick text to my roommate:
Something has come up and I have to move out ASAP…I’ll be wiring my half of the remaining rent to our landlord, and I’ll find a way to have my belongings shipped to me. I’m leaving my keys under that rose plant in the laundry room—Aubrey.
Grabbing two large suitcases from my closet, I stuffed them with whatever I could find, and placed Mr. Petrova’s recommendation letter into my purse.
As I was writing myself a reminder (“That ass**le still has my panties…Need to shop for more.”), my mother called.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Excuse me, Aubrey?” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Hello?”
“Much better.” There was a smile in her voice. “What time should I expect you at The Grove tonight?”
“Never. I’m not coming.”
“Save me your tantrums, Aubrey. There’s a lot of money riding on this first dinner. Would you like me and your father to pick you up?”
“I said I’m not coming. Did you not hear me?”
“Aubrey…” She lowered her voice. “I’ve been trying to hold back for the past few weeks, but you know what? I am sick and tired of you being so damn thoughtless and selfish about your father’s aspirations. Neither of us personally give a damn about your thoughts on the election, but since you’re a member of this family, I demand that you—”
“Go to hell.” I hung up and continued packing, even faster now.
Subject: Cab.
Miss Aubrey Everhart,
Your cab has arrived at the address you specified. It will wait for exactly five minutes.
—Durham Cab Co.
I rushed into the bathroom and filled a plastic bag with toiletries, and then I placed them into my suitcase and headed outside.
“Bus station, right?” The cab driver, a woman, smiled as I approached.
“Yes, please.”
She took my bags and placed them into the trunk as I slid into the backseat. I felt my heart hurting with every second that passed, and as much as I tried to block out the thoughts about Andrew, images of his face infiltrated my brain anyway.
I was picturing the last full night we spent together, the night before he kicked me out of his condo, and no matter how hard I tried to make sense of what happened the very next night, I couldn’t. All I could do was cry.
My phone vibrated against my knee and I flipped it over, hoping to see Mr. Petrova’s name, but it was Andrew.