“Happiness exists” are the first words my bleary eyes catch as they squint at my phone. I don’t even know how this habit managed to hook millions of us so fast, but let’s face it—barely awake, we dive straight into social media. “What if some random Arab sheikh messaged me, or my old high school frenemy dropped another ten pounds, or that awful Susie is lounging on the Bahamas again?”
So here I am, half-conscious, fumbling for my phone on the nightstand and scrolling through Instagram… to my own detriment. My phone already “knows” whose profile I stalk obsessively, so of course, it shoves Nicholas’s post right in my face. “Happiness exists,” reads the caption under a photo of his hand gently holding a delicate, feminine one. …And just like that, all the oxygen around me vanishes, sucked away by this treacherous jerk and that… ugh, I can’t even find the right word, I’m so furious. Oh, I’d recognize that paw anywhere, even in a lineup of a thousand! That perfect manicure, that amethyst ring!
It’s the predatory claw of my boss, Natalie Lambert! That snake stole my boyfriend! How did she pull it off? Just yesterday, he was teasing me so sweetly, gazing into my eyes! You absolute scumbags!!!
…I’m launched out of bed, landing in the middle of the room. Snarling and wailing, I start pacing from one corner to another. My world has exploded, and I’m running through the wreckage, smearing tears across my cheeks. I’m tempted to hurl my phone at the wall, but I stop myself just in time—too expensive, it’s the latest model, after all. So I guess I haven’t completely lost it. How could he? And her? Isn’t she getting married the day after tomorrow to some guy named Ray Boulder? Give me someone, anyone, to tear apart! Clothes and random stuff fly across my apartment as I howl and mutter incoherently.
Oh, no breakfast for me today, and definitely none of that ridiculous yoga I’ve been grunting through every morning, to hell with it! All because Nicholas likes girls who are into yoga and take care of their bodies! Jerk! Womanizer!
And forget straightening my hair today, because apparently, Nicholas didn’t like my wild, curly mess. Well, I hope the devil shoves a burning poker up your backside!
No makeup either! Let everyone see I’m in a rage today and know to steer clear!
I storm out of the house and start walking. Fine, I’ll get some fresh air. No subway, no taxi—too many people. I might bite someone! There’ve been reports of rabid raccoons in our block and the next one over; people might think I caught it from them. Looking at me right now, what else would cross their minds?
“I knew you’d already seen it,” Chloe sighs as I barge in, her eyes full of pity, just like when I buried my beloved rabbit, Batman, as a kid. “I was too scared to call you.”
I’ve just stumbled into the tiny closet of an office I share with Megan, since the cheapskates here never bothered to give us legal assistants proper spaces. Meg quickly sets her phone aside—where she and Chloe were practically buried up to their necks in gossip—and pulls a small, unmarked bottle from her desk drawer, placing it in front of me.
“What, offering me poison straight off the bat?” I grimace, tossing my bag onto my spot.
“It’s a calming tonic, dummy. My grandma brewed it herself with herbs. It’s exactly what you need right now.”
“And where’s that mega-hotshot witch of a lady boss?” I unscrew the cap and take a swig of the bitter sludge, my whole body contorting in disgust—even my toes curl.
“Are you out of your mind? It’s just twenty drops, three times a day!” Meg tries to snatch the bottle back.
“I’ve got a special case!” I take another sip, feeling my tongue go numb. It might actually be helping; I’m not quite as unhinged now.
“This is a total disaster! We’re all losing it! The whole office is buzzing!” Meg shakes her head. “Of course, Natalie and Nicholas aren’t showing up to work today,” she adds. As the assistant to senior partner Patrick Evans, her intel is rock-solid. “Patrick, still in shock, let slip that Natalie dumped her fiancé, took emergency leave—same as Nicholas Coleman, by the way—and apparently, the devil himself dragged them off to Hawaii. A sudden burst of passion, too bad it’s not swine flu. She told Patrick to handle her cases temporarily and to stay out of her personal life. Stephanie, for heaven’s sake, stop chugging that tincture; it’s medicine, not a ‘Sex on the Beach’ cocktail! Oops, sorry, bad analogy.”
“What else did you expect from that stuck-up hag?” Chloe sighs. “She was so desperate she even started dating our competitor and was planning to marry him. And I told you she’s had her eye on Nicholas for ages, but you didn’t believe me! I said she’s a sneaky viper!”
“And he’s no saint either, the half-baked Apollo. God, what did he even fall for?” Meg makes another futile attempt to grab the bottle of grandma’s brew from me.
“She’s a partner at a top law firm in town, makes ten times what we do. She’s got a fancy car, a mansion, and a skinny behind,” I spit out my verdict. “Not an ounce of fat on her, flawless skin, impeccable taste, straight hair, and she can hold a perfect cobra pose.”
“She’s been slithering through life in that pose,” Meg snorts. “Steph, darling, don’t break your heart over him. He’s not worth it! Move on and be glad life got rid of this loser for you! Who are you even mourning? This pretty-boy peacock who couldn’t figure out his own worth? Hey, write this down in that ‘diary for posterity’ of yours: never start a serious relationship at work! We all work in the same office—how are we supposed to deal with this mess now? Girl, I’m not ready to lose you!”
“I’m so grateful for your support,” I mumble, my tongue barely moving. A little more of this stuff, and I’ll be floating on cloud nine, not giving a damn about anything.
“And you spent six months on a diet for him, starved yourself down to a stick just for this idiot, swallowing your drool at our parties while we ate,” Chloe says, biting her lip in frustration. She always takes my failures as her own. “You fluttered around him like a butterfly, dazzled him with your wit, and endlessly straightened your gorgeous hair because Nicholas liked it that way. Ugh, to hell with him! He was just playing with you, the creep. I could kill him!”
“Cool it, babe. You know how long you’d rot in federal prison for that,” Megan finally manages to yank the vile potion from my hands. “Steph, thank God he didn’t leave you at the altar. That other guy got it worse. Now there’s someone with a truly broken heart and a fortune down the drain. The poor dude spent a ton on wedding prep, wanted to cherish that snake until they were old and gray, and she spat right in his face!”
“I feel so bad for him. He seemed so sweet and cute,” Chloe says, always the one to pity everyone—it’s just her nature. “Remember when Natalie showed us his pictures? I was even a little jealous when he sent her flowers every week. Poor guy, he must be beside himself. I heard Natalie already bought her wedding dress, wrote her vows, and sent out invitations last month. How can people be so cruel and heartless? And she’s supposed to be a respected lawyer! Stephanie, where are you going?” Chloe startles as she sees me getting ready to leave.
“I’ve got something to take care of. An idea just hit me. Tell them I took the day off because I’m not feeling well. Patrick should understand,” I say, swaying like I’m drunk as I stumble into the hallway.
“Stephanie, don’t do anything stupid!” Meg yells after me. Stupid? What’s she talking about? My plan is perfectly reasonable.
Especially since Meg’s tincture has made me super brave and reckless. I don’t even think twice as I climb out of a cab in front of our competitor’s office. My only doubt is whether he’s even shown up to work today—after all, the guy’s got to be grieving since his fiancée dumped him. But it’s worth a shot.
“How can I help you?” chirps a smiling assistant, flitting over like a little bird. Their office is so cozy; I’m tempted to curl up on that leather couch. If I picked a lawyer based on office decor, I’d choose this firm. Though I’ve heard—from Natalie herself, may her teeth ache all night—that Ray Boulder has won some high-profile cases, so they’re never short on clients either.
“I’d like to meet with Ray Boulder.”
“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Boulder?”
“No,” I shake my head, still unsure if he’s even here. “But it’s urgent and very, very personal.”
Ray’s assistant gives me a curious, intrigued look.
“Let me see if he has a free minute,” she says, heading toward a door with his nameplate. “Come on in!”
After making sure the door is firmly closed behind me, I stride toward the young man who stands up from behind his desk as I enter. Yep, judging by the photos, it’s definitely him. But why so calm? Where are the red-rimmed eyes, the disheveled look of a heartbroken man? Instead, he’s fresh-faced, dressed to the nines, and surprisingly friendly.
“Stephanie Ayers,” I say, extending my hand, fully aware my name means nothing to him. His sharp, greenish eyes look straight at me, assessing, waiting. “Cute cactus,” I nod at the plant on his desk. “Oh, this tincture is messing with me weirdly.”
“Thanks,” Ray smiles, sitting back down after I flop into the chair across from him. He’s actually pretty handsome, especially when he smiles. “So, what brings you here, Stephanie?”
“I’m Nicholas Coleman’s girlfriend. I work as an assistant with him and Natalie at Law & Sons. …Well, I guess I should say ex-girlfriend now, since he ran off with your fiancée.”
“I see. I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, eyeing me with curiosity, though lawyers always look at you like that—it’s their professional default.
“What’s that?” I nod at an open box emitting a heavenly aroma that’s already making me drool. Ray glances at the donuts, then back at me, raising an eyebrow, clearly questioning my sanity. Of course, only a complete idiot would ask what something so obvious is.
“A friend dropped them off about ten minutes ago. We’ve been pranking each other since college. It’s his way of supporting me with some dark humor.”
“Can I have one?” With his nod of approval, I grab a fresh, still-warm donut and… take a bite. This is what I’ve been missing in life. To hell with personal drama! I’m not just eating this donut; I’m moaning in bliss with my eyes closed. “God, I’m about to have an epiphany. This is so good!”
“Feel free to finish them all, just don’t eat the box,” Ray says, his face a mix of shock and amusement. Poor guy’s stunned. Some crazy woman in his office is stuffing her face with donuts, smeared with grease and powdered sugar.
“If you hadn’t touched junk carbs for six months, you’d get it,” I try to justify my appalling behavior, grabbing the napkin he offers. And naturally, after such an almost intimate moment, I switch to a more casual tone. “Why are you so calm? Didn’t her betrayal get to you? Where’s the anguish on your face? The despair?”
“How about some coffee with cream and sugar to complete the ecstasy?” he teases, the jerk.
“Yeah, why not.”
“Jane, two coffees, please. One as usual, and one with cream and sugar,” he calls to his assistant, who peeks in a moment later. “Generally, I don’t discuss my personal life or emotional state with strangers.”
“That’s fair. Very… manly of you. As for me, I had to chug some calming swill… an elephant-sized dose. But after your donuts, I might just agree that happiness does exist. Still, I’m planning to get back at them, to throw a wrench in their little love nest so they don’t drown in their own bliss. As the saying goes, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ I propose we team up and follow them to Hawaii. I want to ruin their little getaway!”
“Interesting. How? Planning to throw punches or chuck coconuts at them?” He seems amused by me now. “By the way, what kind of calming stuff is that? Have you seen your pupils?”
“No idea, some homemade tincture. My friend Megan’s grandma fancies herself a shaman,” I wave it off. “I’m not going to fight them, though I’d love to grab Natalie by the hair and slam her into a palm tree a few times! I just want to keep showing up wherever they go, pretending to be happy, enjoying myself, and proving life goes on without them. And I need you for maximum impact.”
“That’s not a vacation. That’s stalking,” he says, his calm demeanor starting to grate on me.
“Oh, don’t start lecturing me like some lawyer! If you’re not in, I’ll go alone! But I’m going either way! You can keep sitting in your perfect little office, acting like an emotionless robot! Or maybe this isn’t the first time you’ve been dumped, and you’re used to it by now? Or maybe you never cared about Natalie, so she threw herself at my Nicholas like a starving dog on a bone?”
“I’d run from a nutcase like you too,” he snaps, narrowing his green eyes. Look at that, he’s capable of emotion after all! I jump to my feet, ready to throw something even nastier at him, but suddenly, everything goes black, and all I manage is a faint gasp.