stressful the last few days. Fun, too -- don’t get me wrong.”
“Jesus Christ!” Steven quickened his pace. “Better straighten shit out. You’ve got a medical evaluation in a few hours.”
“I’ll be fine.” Mason walked faster to try to keep up.
“I hope so. If you act like a clown and fuck things up with the doc today, we’re not even going to have a chance to meet with the GM tomorrow.”
* * *
Emory looked around her bedroom, sorting through her past. Thankfully, there was rather little to sort. It surprised her -- she had spent years with Eric -- but he’d never left much at her apartment . Were we really together for almost two years ? Eric preferred to keep his stuff at his house, in the order and places he liked them. She saw her phone and a picture of them on her dresser. She stared at it, but couldn’t remember where or when the picture was taken. She grabbed it and put it in a box. She picked up her phone, biting her lip upon reading Mason’s text.
She returned to the business at hand. She picked up Eric’s toothbrush and a few other toiletry items in the bathroom. She put them next to the picture in the box. She walked into the den and grabbed a wedding magazine from the bookshelf; Eric had given it to her weeks ago, but she never opened it. She rested it on top of the photo and toiletries, burying them below.
She drove to Eric’s house, knowing he would be in surgery for the day. It was the perfect time to return his items and collect hers, without any more awkward conversation or fighting. She didn’t have the energy for any of that. She entered Eric’s house with the box under her arm, and her purse over her shoulder, placing them both on a table in the foyer. She removed his key from her keychain and put it on top of the box.
Emory looked around for anything she may have left in the house, going from room to room. There was little there, except for some pictures of them in the den. She decided she had no use for those and moved towards the master bedroom and bathroom. She had a few toiletry items to gather, and thought she may have left a shirt or two in Eric’s closet. She entered the bedroom and saw a light on in the bathroom through the cracked door. Shit! Is he here?
“Eric?” Emory gently pushed open the bathroom door. “Oh my God!” She covered her eyes, hiding the horrible vision of Eric in the shower with some woman. She fled to the foyer and quickly grabbed her purse, but in her rush, spilled the contents on the floor -- her lipgloss, spare change, a black-and-white photo, everything.
“Damn!” Emory knelt down, hurrying to get everything back in her purse. She then reached for her keys in her pockets, but couldn’t find them. She panicked, fumbling around in her purse, then hunting around on the floor for them. She saw bare feet and looked up.
Eric stared down at her, only a towel around his waist. “See anything you like?”
She stood up from the floor, his question making her sick. “I thought you had surgeries today. I told you I was coming.”
“Change of plans,” he said flatly.
Emory sensed this was a set-up. “Is this some attempt to make me jealous?”
“Is it working?”
“No.” Emory shook her head, and laughed. “It’s pathetic.”
“Like you sleeping with that jerk the day after we broke up?”
Emory put her hands on her hips, expecting better of Eric, never thinking he’d try to hurt her. She figured that seeing Mason had put him over the edge, but she was in no mood to be sympathetic. “Eric, I’m not sleeping with Mason.” She looked him up and down. “And I don’t see anything I like. But think what you want -- I don’t give a shit.”
Emory turned back to her purse in search of her keys and headed for the front door. She then heard a familiar high-pitched, squeaky voice. “Eric, come back to the shower.”
She
“Jesus Christ!” Steven quickened his pace. “Better straighten shit out. You’ve got a medical evaluation in a few hours.”
“I’ll be fine.” Mason walked faster to try to keep up.
“I hope so. If you act like a clown and fuck things up with the doc today, we’re not even going to have a chance to meet with the GM tomorrow.”
* * *
Emory looked around her bedroom, sorting through her past. Thankfully, there was rather little to sort. It surprised her -- she had spent years with Eric -- but he’d never left much at her apartment . Were we really together for almost two years ? Eric preferred to keep his stuff at his house, in the order and places he liked them. She saw her phone and a picture of them on her dresser. She stared at it, but couldn’t remember where or when the picture was taken. She grabbed it and put it in a box. She picked up her phone, biting her lip upon reading Mason’s text.
She returned to the business at hand. She picked up Eric’s toothbrush and a few other toiletry items in the bathroom. She put them next to the picture in the box. She walked into the den and grabbed a wedding magazine from the bookshelf; Eric had given it to her weeks ago, but she never opened it. She rested it on top of the photo and toiletries, burying them below.
She drove to Eric’s house, knowing he would be in surgery for the day. It was the perfect time to return his items and collect hers, without any more awkward conversation or fighting. She didn’t have the energy for any of that. She entered Eric’s house with the box under her arm, and her purse over her shoulder, placing them both on a table in the foyer. She removed his key from her keychain and put it on top of the box.
Emory looked around for anything she may have left in the house, going from room to room. There was little there, except for some pictures of them in the den. She decided she had no use for those and moved towards the master bedroom and bathroom. She had a few toiletry items to gather, and thought she may have left a shirt or two in Eric’s closet. She entered the bedroom and saw a light on in the bathroom through the cracked door. Shit! Is he here?
“Eric?” Emory gently pushed open the bathroom door. “Oh my God!” She covered her eyes, hiding the horrible vision of Eric in the shower with some woman. She fled to the foyer and quickly grabbed her purse, but in her rush, spilled the contents on the floor -- her lipgloss, spare change, a black-and-white photo, everything.
“Damn!” Emory knelt down, hurrying to get everything back in her purse. She then reached for her keys in her pockets, but couldn’t find them. She panicked, fumbling around in her purse, then hunting around on the floor for them. She saw bare feet and looked up.
Eric stared down at her, only a towel around his waist. “See anything you like?”
She stood up from the floor, his question making her sick. “I thought you had surgeries today. I told you I was coming.”
“Change of plans,” he said flatly.
Emory sensed this was a set-up. “Is this some attempt to make me jealous?”
“Is it working?”
“No.” Emory shook her head, and laughed. “It’s pathetic.”
“Like you sleeping with that jerk the day after we broke up?”
Emory put her hands on her hips, expecting better of Eric, never thinking he’d try to hurt her. She figured that seeing Mason had put him over the edge, but she was in no mood to be sympathetic. “Eric, I’m not sleeping with Mason.” She looked him up and down. “And I don’t see anything I like. But think what you want -- I don’t give a shit.”
Emory turned back to her purse in search of her keys and headed for the front door. She then heard a familiar high-pitched, squeaky voice. “Eric, come back to the shower.”
She
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