When Girlfriends Break Hearts Read Online Free PDF

shrimp cocktails we collaborated on for one wedding reception.  
    All in all, the day was stressful but productive, right until the last delivery. That was at five; busy as the weekend was and large though the weddings were, they were all pretty easygoing in terms of late-night work. Katie and the catering crew would stay until nine to finish the fixings for one gig—but she gave the all-clear to Oliver and me to call it a day once the final cake blooms were in place.
    As for the evening’s plans, I decided that even though I had no intentions of begging for Brandon to come back to me, or running back into his open arms, I still deserved to look my best. So off went my bright orange, flour-covered apron and down went my hair. If this was the last time Brandon saw me, he was going to remember a woman who looked damn sexy.
    Once I left the kitchen I dropped by the house to change. I knew that at five o’clock on a Saturday I ran the risk of Conner and Claire being home, only to see me get all dolled up for someone I was supposed to loathe. Still, better than turning up at Brandon’s with flour on my cheeks and icing under my nails. Fortunately, the driveway was empty when I pulled up to the house. No sign of Schnickerdoodle, either; they must have been at one of Seattle’s many parks.
    A slinky black dress—as black was the “color” most prominent in my wardrobe followed closely by white—was the best wardrobe choice. I wanted something that would say “sexy” just as much as it would say “not slutty and begging for a second chance.” My lone pair of black Jimmy Choo slingbacks was a no-brainer for the footwear. A soft application of light pink lipstick, a sweep of bronzer across my face to give me that “I get sun every day in this cloudy city” look, a slight spritz of Clinique Happy Heart, and I was good to go.
    Before I grabbed my small silver clutch off the dresser I ran a brush through my hair. I’ve never done much with my hair and the biggest splurge I’ll bounce for at the salon is a change in volume or length of bangs. My hair’s been the same for years. It’s long, not too thin nor too thick, and runs to the middle of my back. Straight, a natural medium brown, and as of now bangs that reach just to the eyebrow line with a very slight lift or bounce. It’s simple but it works. My favorite hairstyle is no style at all—just down—or, especially when working in the kitchen, in a ponytail. For tonight, I went with the sexier option: down.  
    I took one quick look in my full-length mirror. I looked pretty damn good. Good enough for Brandon to either want me back or feel sorry he let me go, but also good enough for me to feel confident enough to say, “Close but no cigar” to any possible reconciliation moves. If Brandon would be so bold.
    I took in a deep breath, focusing on the yoga methods of breathing that I had been practicing for years. They were calming, energizing, and helped soothe my nerves. Of course, a soft Riesling at that point would have been more suitable, but I had to get behind the wheel, so it was yoga breathing or nothing.
    “You can do this,” I said to myself. “You can do this.”

    ***
    I killed my car engine and watched as my headlights dimmed. The night was crisp and clear, the unseasonable warmth comforting. I looked out my passenger window at the familiar brownstone that I had called home a short few weeks ago. The front room light was on. Brandon was waiting. Was I ready?
    I took a quick look at myself in my rearview mirror, letting the nearly set sun provide enough light for me to agree that I did look quite nice.
    “Just do this,” I whispered, opening my door.
    As I proceeded up the steps, my butterflies were in high gear. How was I going to get through the evening? I was still susceptible to bouts of crying in the middle of the night from the torturous heartbreak that this man had caused me. Was I really ready to have a rational conversation with him? This