12 PENELOPE“So he just . . . left?” Scarlett blinks at me in disbelief from behind her coffee mug, her mouth hanging open in shock.
We’ve spent the better portion of our lunch breaks huddled in this West Loop coffee shop, hashing out the details of the last few weeks of my dramatic life. It’s quite the story, beginning with Wolfie playing the role of my fake boyfriend on a work retreat, and ending with him walking out on me last night. A story that, unfortunately, ends with a bunch of big, bold question marks instead of a happy ending.
I nod somberly. “Yup. He just broke away from me while we were kissing and bolted out the door.”
Scarlett’s eyes are brimming with such intense sympathy, I can’t even look at her without feeling pathetic. Instead, I focus on stirring my spoon in lazy circ
