After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
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It's finally quiet. My brother has left, the kids are sleeping; the neighbors have stopped their sex-capades and I've shut the tv off.
I drain my third glass of wine, stretch out on the couch, and decide to call Fiona.
"Hey," she singsongs. "How was your day in hottie land?"
I let out a giggle, but a second later I groan because even though it was a great day at work it got a bit rough ones I got home.
"So much has happened today, Fi," I tell her.
"Yeah," she beams. "Good stuff?"
"Mostly, I think."
"Has it solved the cobwebs be gone problem?" she asks eagerly.
I snort out a laugh. "No, not that good." But damn, now I wish that was the case.
"I figured that, so I bought you something," she says, and I can hear the amusement in her voice.
"Oh god." I'm not sure whether I should be scared or excited. It can go either way with Fiona.
"Yeah, she chuckles, it might make you scream 'oh god.'"
"Fiona!" I try to be stern but after three glasses of wine, and images of a half naked Preston dancing through my mind has all sense of dignity flying out the window. And I'm curious what she bought.
"I'm just trying to be a supportive friend," she teases. "You know, until you get the real thing again."
"Oh, no, Fi. Did you buy me a vibrator?"
"Maybe," she laughs. "By the way, it's purple."
I groan loudly again, which only makes Fiona laugh harder. It's not long before I can't help but laugh along with her. And I guess there are worse things than your best friend wanting to help you out, in all sorts of ways.
***
I wake up to the feel of something slimy and wet across my face. There's a little giggle next to me as I blink and try to force my eyes open. It takes me a few seconds to orient myself once I do.
It's morning and I'm in my apartment, only I fell asleep on the couch instead of the bed last night, which explains the crick in my neck. And I'm being smacked in the face by a wet bath cloth.
"Morning mommy," Bella says happily.
"Bella," I croak out, my mouth dry from last night's wine. "What are you doing?"
"Helping."
"Helping?" I push myself up to a sitting position. "With what?"
"Uh huh, mommy's dirty face."
I look from her big smile to the wet towel she has in her hand, dripping water all over the floor.
"Dirty face?" Oh, yeah, I probably have smeared makeup all over me.
