Single Mama Drama. Kayla Perrin
Alaina pressed her lips together.
“What?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.
“It’s just that…well, the paper didn’t say ex. What if Eli never got divorced?”
“Of course he was divorced,” I replied. “He was engaged to me, remember?” I wiggled my finger, flashing the engagement ring I hadn’t taken off. “Why the hell would he propose and buy a place with me if he was still married? You said yourself that the media gets information wrong all the time. I already went through this with my sister last night. And I did check that he was really divorced, okay? On the Internet. It happened back in 2002.”
Alaina nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.
“Eli said it was a really nasty split, and that he didn’t want to talk about the details. I respected that.”
“The paper also said—”
“Enough!” I pushed my chair back and stood. “Alaina, you know I love you, but I came to work to escape all the craziness.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought you’d—”
“Don’t think. Please. That’s the last thing I need.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I didn’t mean to make you feel any worse.”
“I don’t think anything could make me feel any worse. I just want the reporters to go away.”
“I take it you don’t want me putting any more calls through?”
“Only if it’s business. Someone from Hewlett-Packard is supposed to phone me about that color copier, so if he calls, put him through right away. And anyone calling about confirmed bookings or enquiries, naturally. Everyone else, bump to voice mail.” This way, I could open my phone line up again and have Alaina screen my calls. I didn’t want to have to avoid the phone in my place of work.
“All right,” she said.
As soon as she was out the door, I locked it behind her. I had come in to work to avoid the shit I’d have had to deal with if I’d stayed at home. I wanted to lose myself in work, forget all about the real world and my problems for at least a few hours.
I went back to my desk, hoping to do just that.
chapter eight
I stayed locked in my office until after five that evening, having only a granola bar I’d found in my desk for lunch. By the end of the day I was starving, but staying inside had been a smart move, because when I finally ventured downstairs, the camera crews had gone.
I grinned widely. Thank God, they’d finally given up.
There were also no camera crews lining the entrance to my condo. Either the reporters had realized I was never going to speak to them, or the building management had asked them to leave, or a bigger story had broken sometime during the day.
Whatever the reason, I was grateful.
I was in a much better mood than the previous night when I went to Carla’s apartment, feeling for the first time since the news of Eli’s murder that I was going to get through this all right.
I did have to make sure I called the police—something I had been putting off all day. And I also had to search the condo for the name of Eli’s lawyer. There would be a funeral to plan, but I’d watched enough crime shows to know that couldn’t happen until the medical examiner released Eli’s body. Though the cause of death seemed clear, there was always an autopsy to be absolutely sure.
Calling the police and searching for Eli’s lawyer were tasks I could deal with tomorrow, I told myself, the sudden calm after the media storm making me want to put all things negative out of my mind.
As soon as I got to Carla’s door and she opened her mouth to speak, I said, “Not one word about Eli, okay? I don’t want to think about him right now.”
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