Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(5)

I yawned into the back of my hand. “Time for bed. A couple of things before I go. If you enjoyed this video, make sure you subscribe to my channel. And, as always, any donations to my favorite charity are deeply appreciated. Together we can find a cure.”

I ended the video and sent it to Malcolm. He would insert links, add hashtags, and within the next two hours have the video uploaded to my YouTube channel, where my subscribers, who probably thought I was dead after not posting anything for almost two weeks, would likely descend on it like rabid bears.

From there I had only a rough idea how this would all go. I was a travel vlogger. My videos were almost always filmed on location. I had never made a video from inside my apartment. This was a far cry from my norm, and I might even lose subscribers for this. I honestly didn’t know.

I had loyal fans who would stick with me no matter what. But most of the Internet had very short attention spans. If I wasn’t consistently giving them something entertaining, they’d leave.

If I lost my ability to make money…

I tried not to think about it.

I mean, I sorta knew what would happen with the video. All the usual stuff would go down in the comments. Some people would be supportive, some people would not, and the supportive ones would attack those hating on me. Probably more than a few would harp on my judgment for letting a stranger hold my baby. A few others would shit-talk the state of my living space. There would be the standard hateful comments about my appearance.

Most of it would roll off my back. After being the focus of this type of attention for more than two years now, nothing could hurt me. Also, I had a little thing called perspective, in higher doses than most people, and I don’t sweat the small stuff.

Ever.

And most things were, in the grand scheme of things, very, very small…

Especially when you might only have a year left to live.





CHAPTER 3





CHEATER GETS BUSTED!




ADRIAN

I ran the trash from Vanessa’s down to the dumpster. When I got back to my apartment, the light was on in my room. Rachel was out of bed and whirling around the bedroom, tossing things into her carry-on.

I stood blinking at her in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

I drew my brows down. “What? You’re leaving? I thought your flight wasn’t until three. We were supposed to have lunch.”

She didn’t answer me. She went into the bathroom, and I could hear her moving around, drawers opening and closing, the click of the medicine cabinet. She came back in and put her makeup bag into her luggage and zipped it, extending the handle.

“Rachel…”

“I’m getting the seven fifteen flight,” she said without making eye contact. “We’re training a new recruit and I need to be there.”

“You need to be there? You just decided this at four in the morning?”

She paused for a moment, looking at the floor before her eyes came up to mine. “Adrian, I think we need to take a break.”

I froze where I stood. “What? Why?”

She peered at me from across the room and her chin trembled. “I shouldn’t be here. I have responsibilities and commitments, and I shouldn’t be halfway across the country—”

I nodded. “Okay. You’re right, it shouldn’t always be you coming here. Let me come to you for a while. I’ll drive out, take a week off.”

She shook her head. “No. This isn’t working for me. This isn’t what I signed up for. I didn’t expect things with us to get so serious. I can’t let myself get further into this, not with my circumstances…”

I shook my head at her. “What circumstances?”

“Adrian, I’m married.”

The words hit me like a smack. “What?” I breathed.

Her chin quivered. “I’m married,” she said again.

I stood there staring at her for a solid thirty seconds.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I planned on leaving him, and then I didn’t and…This was supposed to be a one-night thing with you and it just…wasn’t. And I wasn’t ready for how I’d feel about you and…”

I dragged a hand down my mouth and sat on the edge of the bed in shock.

I went through an onslaught of rapid-fire emotions. Surprise, betrayal, hurt, confusion. We’d been together for eight months. Eight fucking months. And she was married???

I let out a steadying breath and looked up at her where she stood by the door.

She swiped at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what else to say.”

She swung her laptop bag over her shoulder, then paused for a long beat. “I’ll miss you.”

She gave me one more apologetic look and then let herself out.

*



Ten hours later, my paralegal dropped a file on my desk, and I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes.

“What’s your deal today?” Becky asked unceremoniously.

She was chewing gum. Loudly. Again.

I liked my paralegal/assistant. She did a good job. She was driven and competent. She’d started as an intern and done such a good job that I’d hired her full-time. But as much as I liked her, sometimes it was a little like having a high schooler working for me instead of a paid professional. Becky had zero filter. She did not give a shit. Not only would she tell me I had coffee on my tie, she’d tell me she thought the tie was ugly too.