Day 113: Tales Of Best Friends Revealing They Screwed You Over
I looked down at the hideous red, plastic shopping basket and counted the number of items I had.
Two dips, three assortments of crackers, a baguette and a handful of deli meats. It was more than enough for the four of us tonight; I thought.
Perhaps I needed something more significant, too.
A quiche?
As the thought of what aisle the quiches were in entered my mind, I felt the basket slip from my fingers and crash onto the supermarket floor.
What was I doing?
Why was I providing a feast for the occasion I would one day hope to forget? Why would I shower the people who deceived me with food and hospitality, when they should be showering me with apologies?
No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t show them I was ok with this, or that I welcomed the way this was playing out. Hell no.
I picked up the pieces of my fallen gesture and returned them, instead replacing the delights with a heat-up meal I would intend to eat when they were gone.
It was all I could really afford, too.
Sitting at the dining room table, our makeshift office, I waited for James to finish in his bedroom and join me.
I wondered where GG and Sophia were, having insisted James organise them to be here too. Fuck the idea of doing this confrontation multiple times.
I heard the hinges on James’ bedroom creek, my old Camberwell home, despite my renovation, showing its character. It never bothered me when I lived alone.
“Babe, are you ready to talk?”
James was holding the Louis Vuitton file case under his arm. Another secret he kept from me; how he got it for free.
“Where are GG and Sophia?” I had the gumption to show up, and you could understand why I wouldn’t want to, and on time too. A little effort, please.
“It’s better for the founders to speak first.”
I looked at James in disbelief. “Was that your idea?” He nodded.
“I’m guessing this is the new you, huh? Making decisions for other people. Changing this business, the way it operates, without consulting your partner, seems like this is pretty standard for you now, huh?”
I knew I was being sarcastic and combative. But my tolerance for James pushing me around was reaching its narrow limit.
Every direction I turned he was speaking for me, telling people what ‘we’ wanted for the business when it contradicted every thought I had.
We weren’t a partnership anymore.
We were a divorced couple. A cliche at best; one side not caring about the repercussions of their actions, with the other side left hurt and confused. I wished for once I could be the uncaring one.
“Is it so wrong of me that I want to make money?”
“And you think I don’t want to make?”
Shaking his head, James slumped on the table, pushing a stack of fabric swatches to the ground. More things crashing around me, I contemplated.
“Come on Andie, work with me, please.”
I had never heard him this fed up, exhausted, wanting more from me than I could give. I stared at him, still slumped, and pitied our predicament. How do we move forward? Do I even want to move forward?
And could he do this to me?
Don’t ask that, I said to myself. Think like the businesswoman you are.
“Ok, James, answer me this. How can I trust you as my business partner going forward?”
You’re reading the latest from The Andie Chronicles, the 2023 romance-fiction series from the 1 Lovelock Drive (1LD) universe.
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