The Next Best Thing Read Online Free PDF Page B

not stand to hear any more of that clichéd bullshit that people like to toss around when trying to comfort someone through a devastating crisis. Things such as doors closing, windows opening, and loving something enough to let it go and seeing if it will come back and if it doesn’t then take heart because that which does not kill you makes you stronger.
    It felt good to completely shut down, and shut the world out, with no cell phone, e-mail, or text messages.
    By late Tuesday evening, I was over it, honey. I had one of those lightbulb moments, and suddenly realized that going completely crazy is a luxury that I simply cannot afford. Especially since I now have a three-thousand-dollar-a-month mortgage to pay by myself.
    Plus, Mama called at six o’clock this morning and gave me added incentive and encouragement. “This is the day that the Lord has made, rejoice and be glad in it!” she said with the enthusiasm of a cheerleader. “Your Daddy and I raised you to be a victor , Tori. Not a victim.”
    So, using Jennifer Aniston as my role model, I literally drug myself out of bed and put my game face on.
    I am far from being over Roland and this whole sordid situation, but I don’t see why the rest of the world has to know that. Celine Dion is right. The heart does go on, and so will I—eventually.
    In the meantime, my first day back to work was a classic display of faking it till you make it. I shamelessly took all those accolades and pats on the back as if I truly deserved them.
    They say a certain percentage of success is just showing up, and I found that to be true today. I showed up. And for that, I am pretty sure I gained some respect back.
    â€œWay to show some of these weak-kneed cowards around here how to take a lickin’, and not even miss a step!” Sophie said, still cheering me on.
    â€œYou can’t keep a good woman down!” I said with a wink.
    â€œRight on, sister!” she said, giving me a fist bump. “So seeing as how you were supposed to be out of the office for a month, and there’s nothing concrete on your schedule for today, how about representing the SWE vendor booth at the Bridal Expo this afternoon?”
    Ugh. Maybe I should have kept my ass at home.
    I planned weddings when I first started out, but I am glad to say that I don’t do them anymore. Mainly because you have to deal with the unreasonable demands of bridezillas who think they know what they want but really don’t, and everything is your fault and you have to do a tremendous amount of hand-holding and micromanaging and the migraines that come along with the territory are just not worth it. Besides, after what I had just been through, I was in no mood to deal with anything even slightly associated with weddings.
    â€œWhat about Margo?” I asked, trying not to sound as un-enthusiastic as I felt. “Weddings are her area of expertise.”
    â€œTrue, but Margo went into labor last night and is now officially on maternity leave,” Sophie said, peering at me closely. “Now, if it’s something you can’t handle—”
    â€œWhat’s not to handle?” I asked, with a laugh.
    I knew that Sophie was testing me to ensure that I really was as over my personal tragedy as I claimed to be. I wasn’t, of course, but handing out brochures and answering questions about the specialties we had to offer was not a big deal. Besides, I wasn’t going to have to actually work with any of these people later on down the line, so I could put up with the hoopla for a few hours.
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    â€œLooks like it’s gonna be a long day,” I told Erin, my assistant, the second we stepped into the Overland Park Convention Center.
    â€œTell me about it,” she replied, looking overwhelmed by the humongous state-of-the-art facility, which really should have its own zip code.
    It wasn’t even noon yet, and the place was jam-packed with thousands of women