Wrong

She arranges her face into a pout and examines her reflection in the mirror. "That's not kind, Sophie. I don't think Luke would want you calling his patients crazy."

"I'm not. I'm calling you crazy," I say. And as I do, as the word leaves my mouth, I realize she's his patient.

Why in the ever-loving hell would he agree to treat her? I'm almost blind with rage, that's how angry I am.

"Your plan is to win him back by having him treat you for infertility?" I'm dumbfounded. How does this make sense?

I can't think straight, I'm so pissed about Luke touching her. I know he's a doctor, I know this. Encountering women at events that he's treated is weird enough, but his ex-fiancée?

"Something like that," she replies with a smug smirk.

I want to strangle this bitch with my bare hands. What's involved with fertility treatment? He's probably inseminated her. I wonder who her donor is. I'm picturing her flat on her back with her feet in stirrups and Luke between her legs.

Can I kill her with a lipstick tube? What else do I have in my clutch?

"Why is he helping you?" I'm incredulous. I know they're colleagues, but she's his ex-fiancée. Why wouldn't he refer her to another doctor?

"You don't know anything, do you?"

What don't I know? "I know Luke is leaving here with me and I know you're crazy."

"Wrong and wrong," she laughs. "I'm very fragile, Sophie, from all the fertility drugs." She actually sniffs. "And Luke will be leaving with me. In the next ten minutes."

I'm so worked up I feel queasy again. "Get out," I tell her. "Get the hell out of my sight, you crazy bitch."

"Tsk, tsk. Language, Sophie." Gina breezes out the door. She's not gone a second too soon, because tears fall down my cheeks a second later.

What is going on? What is he doing with her? I feel stupid. Left out and stupid. I've spent my limited adult life dating a man who was attracted to men, a man who wanted to film me without my consent, and Luke. Clearly my character-judging skills are off.

I grab some tissue and clean myself up. I will not have a breakdown in this bathroom. Gina's probably lying, yet things are starting to fall into place. I remember her stopping by Luke's condo the weekend after Thanksgiving in tears and Luke telling her to call his office the following week.

Forget it, I tell myself. I am not thinking of this right now. I am going back out there with a smile on my face and I'll talk to Luke about all this later.

I exit the bathroom and cross the corridor to the ballroom space and swing open the door.

I'm so disheartened with Luke right now. I don't think I know him at all. I feel… misled somehow.

I enter the ballroom while taking a deep breath. Maybe he has some social disorder that prevents him from realizing that he's wrong about Gina.

Two steps into the room I almost trip over my stilettos. Luke's seat is empty, because he's walking away, with his hand on Gina's back.

I turn around and exit the door I just came through and start walking. I'm not sure where I'm going except in the opposite direction of Luke and Gina. I have to get out of here. We arrived through an event entrance, that's the direction that Luke and Gina are walking. I'm sure I can catch a cab at the main entrance so I won't have to bump into them. I check my clutch to reassure myself that my ID and credit card are still there. I can get home with that.

I keep walking until I find my way to the main lobby of the Ritz Carlton and head straight outside for a cab, only then realizing I don't have Meredith's shawl. Luckily there's a line of cabs out front waiting for fares and the bellhop has me in one in moments.

I feel like I should cry, but I'm numb.

"Where to, miss?" the cab driver wants to know as he pulls into traffic and my cell phone starts ringing.

"Spruce and 38th," I tell him, giving him the directions to my dorm while glancing at my phone, the screen indicating a call from Luke. I hit ignore and then turn the phone off and toss it back in my bag.

Chapter 29

I bawl my eyes out in the back of that cab, big ugly tears that have the driver staring at me though the rearview mirror until I lie down on the seat so he can’t see me anymore. I'm tired. When did my life become so derailed? I'm graduating this spring with an honors degree from an Ivy League college. I am not a trophy fuck.

"Which building, miss?" the cabbie asks, turning onto Spruce.

I sit up and wipe my face with my hand. "Jacobsen, ahead on the left." I slide my credit card through the card scanner attached to the Plexiglas window separating the driver from the back seat.

I move as fast as I can on heels to the front door of Jacobsen in my short sleeveless dress, chilled instantly in just a few steps. Does this classify as a walk of shame if it's still evening? I feel conspicuous dressed like this surrounded by a sea of jeans, Uggs and down-filled jackets. My heels clicking across the lobby floor sound like gunshots to my ears. I can't wait to get to my room and replace them with comfort socks and crawl into bed.

I'm about to jab the elevator button when I catch something from the corner of my eye. Mike. He's on one of the sofas in the lobby charming a girl I know from the building. I see red. There are plenty of girls on this campus, plenty of dorms other than mine where Mike can troll for gullible girls. I can't help them all, but I can help this one.

I stomp over to the sofa intent on interrupting. "Saylor," I call out, getting the girl's attention. She's a sophomore. I've tutored her in freshman accounting.

She looks up, surprise crossing her face before being replaced with concern. I'm not sure if the concern is for me or her, since I'm a disheveled mess with mascara streaked down my face.

"Sophie, are you okay?" Saylor pushes away from Mike and scoots to the edge of the sofa closer to me.

"I'm fine," I reply, glaring at Mike. "Are you with him?"

"Oh my God, are you two together?" Saylor's head goes back and forth between us. "I thought you were available," she says to Mike.

"I am, baby," Mike replies and tries to catch Saylor's hand. "Don't listen to her. We hung out months ago, that's it."

"That's it?" I shriek, then lower my voice and address Saylor. "Mike likes to video himself having sex with different girls.” I pause. “And he has a very large collection."