Page 46 of Good Girls Like it Dirty
Emma gave her a compassionate once-over, kindness flickering in her pretty hazel eyes. “You’re not okay. I understand.”
Monique drained the remainders of her drink before speaking. “I’ll be okay. How’s Zaine?” she asked, before her common sense alerted her not to. But damn, in those three weeks she hadn’t heard from him, he hadn’t called or texted, which she’d told herself was for the better. He’d deposited in her bank account the remaining money for the month she was supposed to be in town. She wouldn’t use the money for herself, but debated between using it for a local charity or one in Africa, then opted for the latter.
She thought about telling him she felt like paying him back the entire amount when she could. She’d have to save for a long time. But he hadn’t gotten in touch with her, and she fought the need to call him. How could she be upset over his absence? After all, wasn’t she the one who told him that’s what she wanted? A clean break and distance?
Well, she got her fucking distance and it killed her, little by little. All sorts of scenarios messed with her head, involving him and a pregnant, elated Ashley.
Emma sighed. “He’s a wreck, too. He still hasn’t allowed Ashley to move back in. He’s really resisting the idea.”
Monique drummed her fingers on the table, unsure of what to say. Anxiety filled her like air, and she wished she had something stronger to drink. Like a bottle of tequila. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, more to herself than to Emma.
Emma patted her shoulder. “Sorry. You know, he’s not into Ashley. Why don’t you give him a chance to show you?”
Monique tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She could explain to Emma all about her principles, but they no longer mattered. “I’m leaving California tomorrow. I got the job I wanted. I’m going to France to be with my family before I head to Africa to teach.”
Emma rubbed her hands together. “Wow,” she said, with wide eyes. “I mean, that’s great. Congratulations. We have to celebrate then,” she added, injecting more energy into her voice. She turned her head, silently searching for a waiter or waitress. Thankfully, the same one who had helped Monique earlier understood the cue and approached them.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?” the brunette asked, smiling at Emma.
“Yes. A bottle of champagne. We’re celebrating.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back.” The waitress nodded and sauntered away.
Emma shifted back to Monique. “I’m happy for you, even if that means you’ll no longer be the coolest girlfriend my brother has ever had. You better keep in touch on Facebook.”
“Thanks,” Monique said, angling closer and reaching for Emma’s hand. She gave her a light squeeze, and Zaine’s sister’s pretty face softened. Ever since their first meeting, his sisters had always treated her well, never like an outsider, even though she was the girl their brother dated shortly after the end of his marriage.
They had reasons to be skeptical about her, suspicious even. Yet, they never showed a trace of arrogance or superiority. They’d treated her like an insider, and for that, Monique was truly grateful.
