Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)(32)

I watched my mom smile as she took the completion certificate from the head doctor on stage, watched her recite the “Today Begins My New Life” poem, and watched her eyes light up with the same self-promises she’d made several times before.

At one point, the head doctor asked the audience to stand and recite the “Supporters Pledge,” but as I mouthed the familiar words, an image of Claire ran across my mind.

I wanted to know why the hell she’d stood me up, why the hell she didn’t even think to call and cancel. I thought about calling to ask her why, but I decided against it; I wasn’t the “call and ask” type.

All of sudden, I heard the “reformed” patients singing the final “Now My Life Begins” song and realized the ceremony was over.

“Thank you so much for coming, sweetheart!” My mom rushed over and gave me a hug. “I think this was it! I think I finally get it now!”

I hugged her back. “I hope so.”

“No Audrey? Where’s your girlfriend?”

“We broke up a long time ago.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry...You’re not dating anyone else?”

“No.” Even if I was, I wouldn’t have told her. I didn’t need to open up to her right away, and I didn’t want to pretend like she was a real part of my life.

She looked saddened. “Well, whenever that day comes, can I meet her?”

Never... “Sure.”

“I meant what I said about changing, Jonathan. I want us to meet up at least once a week. I need you to help me stay on track for a while.”

“Good idea.” I tried to sound convinced. “Let’s get lunch before we get you into your new condo. I bought you one with two levels just like you asked.”

January 19, 2013

Dear Journal,

Today I learned that there is a distinct difference between “forgiveness” and “stupidity.”

Forgiveness is what happens when you can honestly move past something and let it go. Stupidity is what happens when you tell someone “I forgive you” (because it’s the “right thing” to do), but you secretly hope they drop dead right in front of you and tumble into the seventh circle of hell.

That said, I do not forgive Ryan Hayes for cheating on me with my former best friend. I probably never will and I’m perfectly okay with that.

I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how “forgiveness helps you sleep better at night,” because that’s not true. (My seven layer mattress is amazing)

Anyway, I received my evaluations from my associates this week and I waited until Friday to open them. Out of a possible five stars, my score is a 3.8. Now, normally this wouldn’t bother me, because stars are just stars and they don’t mean anything. But this year they were allowed to write anonymous comments with their ratings and I almost went out there and fired every single one of them.

Their comments went something like this: “Miss Gracen is an okay director, but she would be better if she weren’t so stuck up.” “Miss Gracen should trust us with more work.” “Miss Gracen should stop trashing so many of our concepts and send them up to the board.” “She dresses nice but she doesn’t know much about advertising.” “Miss Gracen needs to realize that most of us went to Ivy-league colleges and are more than capable of coming up with great campaign slogans. (Didn’t she go to the University of Pittsburgh? Isn’t that a public school?)”

You know what? I’m not even going to address their dumbass remarks. I just...

“The new sPhone blue. We make Crayola jealous.”

Enough said.

This can’t be my life,

Claire

Chapter 7

Claire

I called in sick to work on Monday. I didn’t want to deal with Jonathan asking me any questions about me standing him up for our date, and I didn’t feel like sitting through another useless brainstorming session.

All I wanted to do was relax.

I dimmed the lights in my bathroom and lit all my favorite candles—vanilla, honeysuckle, and amber. I tossed a few Eucalyptus salts into the tub and turned on the water, squeezing generous dollops of cherry bubble bath underneath the running faucet.

I’d always felt that bubble baths were the best therapy in the world. Hot water and soapy beads had a way of helping me escape to another life—a life where I could sail to anywhere I wanted, a life where I worked because I wanted to, not because I had to.

I stepped into the tub and slid under the suds, letting the warm water lull me into my special place.

Don’t think about work...Don’t think about work...

I pulled my favorite purple vibrator from the side panel and sighed. I hit the “on” button, prepared to put him to work, but the doorbell suddenly rang.

Ugh! Why now?

I figured my next door neighbor had received my mail by accident again and wanted to “personally return it” as opposed to simply sticking it in my mailbox. My neighbors were so syrupy sweet sometimes it made me sick.

I waited to see if she would go away, if she wouldn’t notice that my car was parked right out front, but the doorbell rang again.

Damnit...

I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself. Blowing out all of the candles, I put my hair into a high messy ponytail. “I’m coming Mrs. Hamilton! Give me one second!” I rushed downstairs.