Chapter 17

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I stared at the text on my phone.

Okay, I can do this.

From the looks of the digital poster, Skylar's birthday was Thursday night in her penthouse, which was two days away. That gave me enough time to tell Skylar about Jake before the party and still convince her that they are the much better match.

I took another deep breath.

Yes, it is that simple. No, I can't keep dragging it out. I knew that procrastination, as Gretchen knew too, was not the answer. For all of our sakes, we needed to move on and be happy with our own person.

And the more I talked to Skylar, the more I realized that while Jake liked me, he was clearly trying to fill the whole she left. Just as Blake was doing with Gracelyn and just as I had done with Darian. Except in this case, Skylar and Jake's breakup was too raw and too soon, and they still had the chance to get back together.

I clicked accept on the invite even though I still had no plan for how to break it to Skylar as gently as possible.

But then my phone rang.

Oh, hell no.

My eyes rolled as far back in my head as they could. It was my mother.

"I'm gonna regret this," I muttered. I got up from the couch to go pour myself a glass of wine, and then I hit accept.

"Alexa?"

"Unfortunately."

"Why does it sound like your not at the office?" She demanded. "You have to be working."

I scoffed. "Are you kidding me? It's 8 o'clock here. You're the one who should still be at work, yet it sounds like you've already drank the bar dry."

My mother was gloriously drunk. This always meant the conversation would head to nowhere good. Back in San Diego, she would waste herself whenever she was sad about the divorce. And then she'd get violent when Paul retaliated and reminded her she chose to marry him instead. Now, well , thankfully I hadn't had to babysit her to find out what her problems were.

"I work plenty," she insisted. "So much that I deserve a break. I deserve a reward."

"Alcohol is not a reward," I said. "It's a depressant."

"No, the scotch is not my reward. I want a car."

I almost choked. "Mom, you have a car. A really nice Audi you bought with the money from the divorce. You don't need a new one."

"But I do," she exclaimed. "I want a Porsche. But stupid Paul won't buy me one."

"I wonder why."

"You don't understand!"

"Enlighten me."

She huffed. "Quit being such a smart ass, Alexa. If I wanted to talk to Bugs Bunny, I wouldn't have ran away from Paul."

"You ran away?" I said in shock. "Mom, where are you right now?"

"Oh, chill you're perky tits," Paul said irritably from far away. "She just ran to the wine cellar in the basement."

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