Page 52 of Truck Me

“You do that. And tell her we miss them dearly. We’re praying for you too, just so you know.”

I frown. “Why are you praying for me?”

“Because of that boy,” she lowers her voice like the mere mention of him is scandalous. “I can’t believe he’s already engaged to that other woman. And after he cheated on you with her. No taste whatsoever. He should hide his face with the way he treated you. And to think he’s not only responsible for breaking your heart, but you lost your job because of him too. Just awful, I tell you. But then again, I don’t guess I have to tell you that. You’re living it.”

I nod and roll my lips between my teeth. I saw the headlines on a tabloid when I was at the grocery store last week, but I didn’t bother reading the article. Brad Sweeney’s very public engagement to Renee—a locally famous morning show host and the woman he’d been cheating on me with—was plastered all over the tabloids. And, of course, they had a picture of me looking my worst, making me out to be the heartbroken, scorned ex-girlfriend of the big shot Chicago attorney.

Renee had also been a client of mine. Turns out that’s how they met.

That fact is also what led to the loss of my job.

Famous people don’t want to be associated with non-famous people whose lives get publicly dragged through the mud because of a scandal. Doesn’t matter that said scandal wasn’t my fault or that I was the victim in all of this. My clients still distanced themselves from me.

I’m so sorry this happened to you Char, but I can’t risk this kind of bad publicity.

I hate him for doing that to you, but my manager wants me to distance myself from you. You know, to play it safe in case the paparazzi go digging into the lives of your other clients.

I know this isn’t your fault, but I can’t let you do my hair anymore. I can’t handle the backlash that will come if anyone finds out you do my hair. You understand, right?

No. No, I do not understand.

There were way too many examples of clients saying some variation of that to me. After the sixth client dropped me, my boss called me into her office and fired me.

Who gets fucking fired after they propose to their boyfriend of seven years, only to find out he’d been cheating on me for the past three years, and he announces that fact while rejecting my marriage proposal?

I do, that’s who.

I look up and meet Mrs. Hoffman’s worried gaze in the mirror. She’s staring at me as if she’s afraid I’m going to break down and cry at any moment.

Not gonna happen.

I clear my throat and force a smile. “I appreciate that, but I’m fine. Really. I’m keeping busy and have hardly had time to think about Brad.” Not a total lie but she doesn’t need to know that my thoughts have been preoccupied with my grumpy neighbor. “Plus, it’s so good to be home. I’ve missed my parents and Rayne.”

She gives me a big, warm smile. “I bet they’re all happy you’re here too. Rayne really could use a wonderful role model like you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I pat her shoulders and dust the last of the hair off the cape before I grab the hair dryer. “Now let’s get you dry and styled. I can’t wait for you to see your new hairstyle.”

With the hair dryer going, conversation is halted, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m done talking about Brad and Renee and my old life in Chicago. I’m not getting any of it back anyway, so I might as well let it go and forget about it. Dwelling on it doesn’t do me any good.

Besides, focusing on my parents and Rayne are what’s important now. They need me just as much as I need them. They’re more than enough to keep me busy and occupied.

I don’t need a man. Any man. Not even the sexy, grumpy big guy next door.

Chapter 12

Snow days are the best days.

Garret

My garage feels like a meat locker. It snowed last night, dropping almost sixteen inches on the ground. At least that’s what the weatherman said this morning when I listened to the news.

I’d say that’s about right. With the drifts, some areas are even worse—like around my house. I had to dig my way out of a wall of snow from the front door this morning. The wind must have whipped around all night long with as much snow I found piled up against my doors.

When I opened my front door, I was staring at a white wall of snow and could only see a hint of sunlight at the top.

That’s always fun to clean up.

I debated on shutting the door and going back to bed. I won’t be working today anyway. It’s my general rule. When it snows, I don’t make house calls. Everything can wait until this shit clears up.