Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(31)



For some reason I allowed myself to believe I’d move to San Francisco and be entitled to a sweet and happy future with my vacation fling. I was delusional thinking this was some kind of fairytale where we’d get married and I’d get those two point five kids behind a white picket fence. Shit like that does not happen in real life. Not in my life.

No. In real life you get promoted and leave a great boss in a city you love. Move across the country to work for an * and learn your soulmate is taken, by a tall beautiful redhead. I roll my eyes at myself over the thought and turn off the water.

I want to lay around in pajamas today and wallow in the crappy hand life dealt me, but it’s Thursday and even though Roger and I were at the fundraiser until after midnight he’ll expect me in at nine. I’m sure of it… because he told me twice as he dropped me off.

I need a plan. A plan to get me through the rest of the week. I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a big white towel, one of the few purchases I’ve made for the apartment.

Okay, a plan then.



Step 1: Get dressed for work

Step 2: Go to work and avoid the bull terrier

Step 3: Agonize over why I feel guilty about Trey while I stare into space

Step 4: Come home and eat ice cream



Right. Not a perfect plan, but it’s what I can manage right now. If I follow those four simple steps for the next twenty-five years, I’ll be set to retire. A few steps take me to the bedroom where I’ve laid out my outfit for the day. A blue short sleeve blouse and black pencil skirt with a black jacket to top it off. Feminine, but professional.

There were a few times last night as I listened to Roger drone on and on to various clients where I considered asking for my old job back. Jay would welcome me home with open arms, but I’m not ready to leave San Francisco with my tail tucked between my legs. I didn’t come here for a man. Well… I didn’t come here for only a man. I’m here for a promotion, to kick butt at a job I love, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. Kick butt at my new job. If I turn down this promotion now, I may never get asked again.

Day one post Trey has a killer outfit and nothing can make a girl feel better than a nice pair of shoes. My foot slips into teal high heels when my cell phone rings from my nightstand.

My phone buzzes again, a default sound rather than the custom ring tones I’ve assigned to most of my friends. The lack of husky male singer on that end means it isn’t Trey. Not that I’d want him to call me and apologize anyway. I’ll have to find a new song to be his ring tone if I decide to keep his number. Good thing the world doesn’t lack songs about cheaters.

One quick look to the phone where “Mom & Dad Home” pops up on the screen helps reset my gloomy thought. I’ll have someone from New York to help chase away some of Trey's sadness.

I’m able to answer with honest excitement, “Hey.”

“Simone, Sweetheart. Have you left for work yet?” my mom’s voice carries over the line.

Fully dressed I sit down on the edge of my bed, crumbling the white comforter with big bright red roses in the design. “No, I have a few minutes until I need to leave. What’s up?”

With the time difference it’s almost lunch in Buffalo and my mom has taken to calling me on her break so we do a quick catch up before I start my day at work. It’s an arrangement that’s worked well for us over the last two weeks, although today is a bit earlier than normal.

“Well, your dad and I went to the doctor today.” It takes her a long time to push the stressed words out. She doesn’t remind me of the woman who harassed me over every man on vacation. “I’ve been so tired lately, you know. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t the flu.” Her voice breaks and I clutch my phone harder.

“Mom?” Fear twists my gut in a death grip and my lungs won’t fill with air.

“It’s cancer.”

These words are spoken with strength, they broker no disagreement, but they won’t stop me from not believing. “Cancer? What do you mean?”

She sucks in a breath, but then there’s silence on the other end. Rustles of clothing or air across the speaker break up the silence, a telling sign she hasn’t hung up. The word cancer hangs in the air without any explanation and I go into survival mode.

Cancer sucks, but science has made huge improvements in treatment. We’ll get Mom into a center, one of those places I always see commercials for on TV. There’s bound to be one in New York. It’s New York for f*ck’s sake. What doesn’t the city have? I’ll ask for an immediate transfer back and be by her side whenever she needs me.

With a reasonable plan now in place, I allow myself a calming breath and wait for her to get back on the line. It doesn’t take long, but it’s my father’s voice I'm greeted with.

“Simone, its ovarian cancer and it’s… spread.” My Dad struggles to get each word out in a calm manner, making them choppy.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so I close it again when he continues talking.

“The doctor wants to run more tests of course, but…they’ve given her thirty days.”

The floor drops out from under me, but I refuse to admit it so I stand on the invisible surface. “Thirty days? For what? To find a treatment center? Can’t they start her treatment there?” My head is already clocking through all my contacts in New York and who I’ll call to help Mom get into the best center the fastest.

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