Page 148 of Manhattan State of Mind

The only silver lining to this cloud of shit is finding out who’s truly in your corner.

Priya and Libby are playing hooky to make sure I’m not alone in my misery. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, not since the fight on the street with JP yesterday. I half-expected him to go full-on battering ram and charging at my door in the middle of the night. But the anticipated assault never came, leaving me, if I’m being honest, disappointed.

Matty and Taylor have both been messaging support. Matty even promises he’ll work hard to keep us on top of things while I’m busy “nursing a fever.”

I’ve used my time at home efficiently, at least, and done a little more digging into who bought my apartment. Okay, most of the sleuthing credit goes to Priya.

No surprise, it was him. JP.

I told real estate Dave to decline the offer and he spat so strongly down the phone, I nearly felt the spray from over a mile away.

The guy thinks I’m off my rocker. He gave me a not-so-heartfelt farewell and basically suggested I take a long walk off a Chelsea Pier.

“This will all blow over,” Libby says with forced conviction from my recliner chair. “By next week, the office will be too engrossed in a new scandal!”

Priya nods, a master of cool. “Yep, it’s not like you were caught having sex in the washrooms.”

I sniff. “Actually, two guys in sales were caught having sex.”

“With each other?”

“No.” I shake my head. “One guy got a warning because he let a random woman into the building after a date and slept with her in the office.”

“See?” Priya’s brows rise. “Your office thrives on scandal! All you did was have a dispute with the boss. In fact, you might look like a badass.”

“No, people think it’s more. Matty told me.”

Libby nods knowingly. “It’s because he got on his knees. That didn’t help.”

No, it did not. I nearly lost it when he did that.

A heavy sigh slips past my lips as I turn my gaze to the window. We’ve been marooned in my living room all day, sipping tea and binging on the fabricated drama of reality TV wives to distract me.

But regardless of how many perfectly coiffed, surgically enhanced wives I gawk at, JP’s face haunts me. His declaration of love was convincing, but his actions suggest a master of deceit. How can I believe he didn’t have sex that night? How do I know he won’t treat me like shit again? Lie to me, go behind my back, betray me…

Priya says logistically he probably didn’t sleep with anyone. If he was that far gone, he wouldn’t have been able to get it up. It’s not much of a comfort.

“You should have told us earlier, Luce. About you and JP the first time around,” Priya murmurs, casting a contemplative look my way. “I think even Libby could have managed to keep it to herself.”

“Hey!” Libby hurls a pillow toward Priya, defending her honor. “It’s not like I don’t try! I’m a good friend.”

“I know you are.” I lean over and rub her arm. “You’re here, aren’t you? Prioritizing me? I’ve had so much shit going on and you girls have really come through for me.” I feel my eyes welling for the billionth time since yesterday. “Lesson learned here—be more trusting in people and myself. I think I didn’t tell you all about it because I was afraid you’d think less of me. I’m pretty sure it started as no-strings sex. But if I opened up to you, then there would have been no mystery when I took a swan dive down the Plaza stairs.”

“So, for future reference—”

The shrill buzzing of the doorbell interrupts Priya mid-sentence. I nearly decorate my couch with my now trembling cup of tea.

We freeze, exchanging panicked looks. It buzzes again, more insistent.

“Are you expecting something from Amazon?” Libby asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shake my head, adrenaline spiking. I cast a nervous glance toward the half-open window. Shit.

On a shared impulse, we sneak out of our seats. Then we drop to our knees, crawling toward the window, reminiscent of my mom hiding from Jehovah’s Witnesses when they used to show up at the door.

“You look,” I mouth to Priya.

She peers out cautiously. Her eyes widen as she drops down again, mouthing, “It’s him.”