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50

Rita

I'm lonely without Scar.

It's pathetic. I know it's pathetic. I drift around the apartment, killing time until I start work. He left me a credit card, said I could get myself an entire professional wardrobe, so obviously I take him up on it.

Shopping only numbs my feelings for a little while.

Then I'm back home with half a dozen bags filled to the brim with designer outfits, empty all over again. I pop a bottle of champagne, pour a glass, and start at the window.

Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Scar's visiting the city we were both supposed to move to. I hope he's having a good time with the Callahan boys. I hope he's keeping out of trouble.

A stab of jealousy pierces through me, and I have to shove it away.

This isn't me. Moping around, feeling sorry for myself. Well, okay, it's a little me, but still, I don't let myself get all soppy and sad over some guy.

Scar made his choice. I made mine.

So why am I still feeling this way?

As I pour myself a second glass, the doorbell rin
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