Done Being His Second Choice

Three years of swallowed grievance came roaring up at once.

I turned, walked into the study, and pulled open the drawer.

A thick stack of bills went out across the coffee table.

Three years of payment records, every one of them clearly marked.

Every expense split down the middle between us.

Back when Bianca only stayed over now and then, the cost of it came out of what we both paid. She had never contributed a single cent.

I pointed at the receipts and asked him, word by word,

"When she came occasionally, we shared the cost. I let it go."

"Now she's moved in for good, and you've bought all of it. This money—how do you plan to settle it?"

Blake glanced at the pile of bills and waved a careless hand.

"Fine, count all of it as mine. What's the big deal."

"I never thought you were this calculating, keeping track of every little expense down to the penny."

"Besides, the deed to this apartment is in my name. Who I let stay here is none of your business."

One weightless sentence, and it ground three years of building a home together into dust.

I looked at this man I had handed my whole heart to, and felt only that he was a stranger, and that I was cold to the core.

So in his eyes, three years of what I gave meant nothing at all.

I didn't argue with him anymore. I walked into the bedroom in silence.

Pulled out the suitcase and packed my clothes, one piece at a time.

I didn't sleep all night.

The next day at the office, in the department meeting.

Blake announced in front of everyone that the year's single most important project would be handled entirely by Bianca.

Every premium client and every good channel would be tilted her way.

What was left for me was the cleanup and the odds and ends.

And all of it was for next week's director review.

He wanted Bianca to walk in with a set of impressive project results and win the panel over.

At the lunch break I went to his office and laid out two requests.

First, clear all of Bianca's personal things out of the apartment as soon as possible. I couldn't share a home with someone else.

Second, distribute the work resources fairly. I had every right to be on the core project.

Blake leaned back in his office chair, his face full of disappointment. "Katherine, how can you be this narrow-minded and selfish?"

"Bianca has no one to lean on, not a single relative in this city. It's only right that I help her more. Do you really have to compete with her over everything?"

Talking to him got me nowhere.

My heart sank all the way down, and I only turned and left without a word.

The morning of the review, Blake was out the door before daybreak.

By the time I had my materials together and went down to the garage, my car was gone.

I texted him, called him, one after another.

It took more than a dozen tries before he finally picked up.

"I took your car to pick up Bianca. She's nervous about her review today, so I'm giving her a ride and running through her defense with her on the way."

"My car's in for service. So what if you make do with yours for once?"

The sheer absurdity of it swept over me.

I gripped the phone, my voice shaking beyond my control. "You know exactly how important today's review is to me."

"I ground through three years, killed myself for the numbers, all for today, for a shot at the director position."

On the other end, Blake's tone was flat, even edged with reproach. "I know."

"But whether Bianca can get her footing in Southport clearly matters more than one review of yours."

When those words landed in my ear, I understood it completely. No amount of arguing would change a thing.

I forced down the surge of bitterness, hung up, and went out to hail a cab.

Morning rush hour was gridlocked, and the wait in the cab line ran a full forty minutes.

I ran the whole way to the review meeting room in my heels, the backs of them rubbed raw until they bled.