Single All The Way, page 1
SINGLE ALL THE WAY
PORTIA MACINTOSH
For Joe – This one is definitely for you
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgments
More from Portia MacIntosh
Also by Portia MacIntosh
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
1
In the movies, you can see a break-up coming from a mile away, can’t you? Some poor woman shouting into her phone about how her signal is fine, only to realise that her significant other doesn’t mean that the call is breaking up, they are breaking up. Or when a loved-up woman’s boyfriend says he needs to talk and she gets all excited, thinking he’s going to propose, but this usually happens at the start of the movie, so everyone watching knows she’s going to get dumped sooner or later. Probably sooner. That’s just how these things work.
I have seen so many movies and TV shows where couples break up – you’d think I would have been better prepared for my own, or at least been able to see it coming. Instead, it hit me like a train.
I’ll tell you something else I never forecast – that I would have to keep working for my ex, because of course he’s my boss too. Life is always horribly complicated that way, isn’t it? As if getting dumped isn’t torture enough, I have to keep taking orders from him. If it isn’t ‘Clear all your things out of my apartment, Dani’ then it’s ‘Dani, make me a coffee’. Do you have any idea how demoralising it is, making coffee for the man who broke your heart? Do you know how tempting it is to put real milk in his coffee instead of oat milk?
Don’t worry, it wouldn’t kill him, he’d just be stuck on the loo for a while. I doubt it would make me feel better anyway and it’s far less than he deserves. I think it annoys me more than anything because making him coffees isn’t actually part of my job. It’s something I always did because I was, y’know, in love with him. Somehow, he’s cut me loose in all ways apart from getting me to make his coffees, and I don’t know how to say no, not because I’m weak, but because he is my boss and the last thing I need right now is to lose my job too.
Tom and I were together for two years – not that anyone we work with knows that. I’m a writer and he’s my editor, although he wasn’t when we started dating. I stupidly stepped aside to let him get promoted because I thought we were on the right track. I thought we were making smart choices for our relationship. We had talked about getting married and having kids – at least three. I’ve always been an only child, and Tom was one of five. He would tell me stories from his childhood, about what he and his siblings would get up to, and while he might not have had some of the same financial advantages as me growing up, I always wish I’d had brothers and sisters.
I didn’t mind at all when he became my editor, at the lifestyle magazine we both work for. It’s not a problem, when the man you’re with is telling you that when you eventually start your family, it will make it easier for you to take time off. A huge problem, however, when he dumps you. I should have been making career moves of my own. I put all my eggs in the Tom basket. Yes, I do feel like a mug, but it’s always easier to spot what you tripped over when you’re down on the floor.
That’s what relationships are like, though: one minute you’re all loved up, the next minute your long-term boyfriend is dumping you for the girl he’s been cheating on you with. A twenty-two-year-old medical student called Mia who he met at the gym. I didn’t think that actually happened in real life. It was six months ago now and I still can’t quite believe it.
The day I found out that Tom was cheating on me (by actually walking in on him while he was doing it, which was as excruciating as it sounds) was the same day that he left me. This is going to sound absolutely pathetic, but when I found out that he had someone else, I didn’t get mad at him to begin with. I didn’t dump him or hit him or even use so much as a PG-approved swear word. I panicked at the thought of life without him. Our lives felt so intwined, being together, living together, working together – I relied on him for so much that the thought of life without the lying, cheating bastard seemed like a worse prospect than staying with him, knowing full well he was treating my heart like a punching bag.
Looking back now, I realise how lucky I am that he did kick me out, because I might have stayed with him and he would have done this to me again and again. Well, I say lucky, I don’t feel that lucky living in my pokey rented flat, working this crappy job, and having to look at his smug face every single day. But I can see now that I was so miserable with Tom, and I know that I wouldn’t have ever been happy with him. After the initial panic of being dumped wore off, my feelings naturally progressed from wanting him back to hating his guts – so now he’s just like any other boss, I suppose.
Of course, the first thing I did at the time was blame myself. Well, I’m a decade older than her. I don’t go to the gym much these days, so I’m a few pounds heavier than I should be by whatever standards we’re supposed to obey – meh – but I’ve been struggling to find the time to go. Tom kept politely reminding me – at least it seemed like a polite reminder at the time – so I politely thanked him but still didn’t have time. I’d drag myself out of bed on a morning, do a full day in the office, and I’m always knackered when I get home but I would still make the dinner and do the dishes – always me, every night, and now I feel like an even bigger mug.
Eventually, I realised that Tom was just a selfish, horrible person who had been making me feel like I wasn’t good enough ever since he decided I wasn’t. He’s the kind of person who would cheat on the woman who did nothing but support him – and then kick her out to move his other woman in! That is not the kind of person I want to be with and I’m better off without him… except I’m not without him because I’m still working with him, and these days, I’m working for him, which is even worse.
I know what you’re thinking, that I should quit my job – believe me, I would love to – but this is real life and people can’t just quit their jobs, especially not right before Christmas.
When it all kicked off in the summer – and I was subsequently kicked out – I spent a couple of nights in a cheap hotel before I found myself an even cheaper flat. I say it’s cheap but somehow most of my money still goes towards my rent. I am on the lookout for a new job and as soon as I find one that works for me, I’ll delight in giving my notice to Tom… but in the meantime, I have bills to pay, and I would be crazy to lose my foot in the door here, even if I have only managed to squash a little toe through it at best.
My only other option would be to move back in with my parents up north in Yorkshire – I’m sure they would have me – but that feels too much like admitting I’ve failed. Failed to find the right man, failed at making a decent life for myself in London, failed to get my career going, failed to be financially independent… No one wants to admit to themselves that they’ve failed at all things in life, never mind to other people.
At least I’m going to spend Christmas with them this year, and I’m really looking forward to it, because it’s the first Christmas I will have spent in my home town in a long time. I spent the last couple in London, with Tom (mug!). We were trying to establish our own family traditions – his words, not mine. I wonder if he’ll be doing that with Mia this year…
They’ll still be in that first flush of romance, I’ll bet. When everyone is on their best behaviour, still keeping their bad habits and annoying traits under wraps. Just wait until she finds out that he listens to country music at deafeningly loud volumes when he’s showering in the early hours of the morning, or the fact that he obsessively rewatches those crappy Not Dead Yet action movies, but insists on keeping the DVDs hidden, so no one knows he’s into something that he considers to be lowbrow. Living with Tom was not a walk in the park, that’s for sure. For someone so obsessed with the place being spotless, and everything being in its place, he was terrible for leaving bits of human debris, for lack of a better term, lying around, like his toenails or his rolled-up bogeys. Honestly, given how hard he was to live with (and obviously the fact that he cheated on me), it’s almost impossible to miss him, or to feel all that sad about our break-up. If there’s anything to mourn, it’s just the time and the effort that I threw into our relationship. I always throw my everything into anything I do. It feels like such a waste, to see that it was all for nothing.
Enough about Tom. The important thing is that I’m going to spend Christmas with my family, I’m job hunting, I’m saving up. I’m going to turn things around.
I twirl around on my desk chair. I’ve done my job search for the day. I’ve doodled in my notepad until my hand hurts, sketching ideas for festive cakes and biscuits that I could bake with my mum in her massive kitchen. I’m all for looking forwards and putting the past behind me, so I’m focusing on what a wonderful Christmas I’m going to have with my family, all the fun we’re going to have, and all the amazing things I’m going to eat. Speaking of which…
I hop up from my chair, a little uneasy on my feet from the twirling, and head into the kitchen to pop the kettle on. It’s definitely time for my mid-morning break. A cup of tea and a blueberry muffin is exactly what I need right now.
By the time I get back to my desk, my phone is ringing so I quickly grab it to answer.
‘Good morning,’ I chirp brightly.
‘Hello, Dani,’ Tom replies in a similarly cheery tone.
I didn’t look at the phone before I answered it. If I’d known it was Tom calling from his office, there’s no way I would have been so friendly.
‘Good morning, Mr Jones,’ I reply.
‘Come on, Dan, you know you don’t have to call me that,’ he replies, dropping his usual professional tone for a moment.
I used to love it when he called me Dan. What is it about when a man gives you a personalised nickname? Why does it make you feel so special? These days, I hate to hear it. I hate to hear his voice generally, never mind my name on his lips.
‘What can I do for you?’ I ask, keeping things professional, despite his instructions.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s Mr Jones all the way from now on – the only other names I’d like to call him are much, much worse. Not the kind of things you would say to your boss, even if he is a colossal wanker.
‘Can you come into my office for a moment please?’ he asks.
‘Okay,’ I reply as my brain goes into overdrive. There’s something about his voice that makes this seem unusual…
I walk into his room and stand in front of his desk like a terrified child, waiting to be ticked off by the head teacher.
‘I wanted to talk about us. Please, take a seat,’ Tom instructs me, his eyes fixed firmly on his screen. He never seems uncomfortable at my presence, not like I am in his. I suppose that’s because he feels like he has the upper hand. I suppose he does.
I reluctantly sit down opposite him at his desk. The last thing I want to talk about is us – there is no us any more. It’s funny, since we broke up, I don’t even find him all that attractive now. It’s like something inside me has been switched off. I hate his slicked-back hair – I can recall the smell and the feel of it, even though I keep my distance from him these days, and while it didn’t bother me at the time, it seriously gives me the ick now.
Just before we broke up, he started going to the gym and dyeing the grey hairs he had on the sides of his head – both of which should have been major red flags that he was cheating on me, I suppose. The only thing is that he’s clearly stopped going to the gym, because the smaller, super-expensive shirts that he bought are starting to pull on his stomach, and he hasn’t quite colour-matched his hair right, giving the sides a strange sort of red tint. I never cared what he looked like – I care that he never tried this hard for me, though.
‘I know we said we’d keep things professional in the office, but a lot went on and we can’t keep on pretending it didn’t,’ he starts.
Funny, he’s done an excellent job so far. People in the office didn’t even know we were together, never mind that we broke up.
I nod my head. The way he’s talking feels awfully formal, like I’m someone he’s interviewing for a feature. It feels so strange to be on such weird terms with the man I spent two years of my life with. He knows everything about me (the good stuff, the bad stuff and the just plain ugly stuff), he probably knows my naked body even better than I do, and now he talks to me as he would a potential magazine sponsor. Actually, he would be much nicer to them, they give him money, all I give him is dirty looks and coffee I sometimes stir with a discarded spoon from the sink.
I may be over Tom, and as bleak as my situation is, there’s no way I’d ever want to get back with him, but one thing about our break-up that really bothered me – and it still annoys me to this day – is the fact that he never actually apologised for what he did. Tom hasn’t shown a hint of remorse over the way he treated me (which is probably why I’m finding it so easy to despise him now) despite the fact we spent two happy (ish) years together. Perhaps an apology is what he’s building up to now? He’s finally going to apologise! I can feel myself softening towards him already, it’s a big deal that he’s going to do it, even if it has taken him months to get around to it.
‘You need to look for a new job,’ he tells me bluntly.
‘Well, that’s very… wait, what?’
That doesn’t sound like an apology, it sounds like I’m going to be adding losing my job to the list of crappy things that have happened to me this year.
‘You’re sacking me?’ I squeak.
Oh, God, I can’t be sacked. I need this job – I need the money. I wouldn’t be in this room, with this tosser, if I weren’t desperate. Can he even sack me for no reason?
‘No, of course not,’ he replies. I breathe a very slight sigh of relief. ‘Anyway, I’m not sure our strained relationship is a sackable offence.’
It probably isn’t, but it definitely sounds like he googled it to see if it was.
‘Your position is more like that of an intern, someone with less experience,’ he explains – I’m not sure that’s true, but I let him continue. ‘So, we need to vacate your role for the internship programme, which means perhaps we might need to reshuffle you, until we find something better, but having just hired a string of new writers, I don’t know how likely it is we’ll find you something suitable. We do have something else lined up for you, though, in the meantime, which you’ll be doing when we return after Christmas.’
I wonder if this is supposed to be purposefully confusing. I feel like something is happening, something more than his tone suggests, but I can’t quite work out what he’s saying. Am I getting promoted finally?
‘Okay,’ I reply weakly. ‘So, what will my new role be?’
‘You’ll be taking on the role of office administrator,’ he replies. ‘Making copies, setting up meeting rooms, coffees and so on.’
‘You mean an office junior,’ I correct him with a frown, thoroughly unimpressed by what is now so very clearly a demotion.
‘Well, Dani, I don’t think anyone calls it that any more,’ he insists. ‘Office administrator is the preferred title, it makes clear that you don’t have to be young to take on the role.’
I widen my eyes. I’m in my early thirties and he’s giving me a euphemised job title, not only to make it sound like a bigger deal than it is, but also because he no longer considers me to be in the junior age bracket. He’s dating someone who is barely out of her teens and suddenly I’m an old lady.
‘The pay will be slightly less, unfortunately,’ he adds.
So, it’s not enough that he kicks me out of our home, cheats on me, and dumps me, now he’s docking my wages and demoting me to making cups of coffee and photocopying. What a piece of work!
‘Someone new will be taking on your role in the new year. I’m going to need you to train him up, show him the ropes for a few days, then you can start your new role without any worries, okay?’
I nod. I don’t know what to say.
‘This is good, isn’t it?’ Tom claps his hands together. ‘Perhaps if we’re working around each other less intensely, we can maybe see about being friends?’
I nod my head, again, without saying a word. Well, what can I say? I’ll just have to put up with my new position until I find another job. I wasn’t planning on staying here any longer than I had to anyway. What I’d like to do is pick up that cold cup of coffee that’s sitting on his desk and pour it over his head before telling him I quit, and that he should go fuck himself, before walking out with my head held high. That’s what the old Dani would have done, but this Dani can’t afford it.
