Cat heard her front door slam, and she almost ran after him.
Almost.
She knew she shouldn't have slapped Alec, but she'd never heard him shout like that or felt him grab her so aggressively, and her palm had flown across his face in an instinctive, defensive reaction.
And in the moment immediately following, she knew she'd lost her best friend.
She was right back where she started when she had arrived in Brooklyn. Hopelessly alone, without a soul in the world to comfort her in the midst of more crushing heartbreak.
So, Cat did what anyone would do in her shoes: she threw herself across her bed and cried and cried until she drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
The next few weeks, Cat picked up extra shifts at the bar, since she had nothing better to do, and she was dismayed to discover that she saw Alec's face everywhere.
Not in a weird, psychological hallucination type way.
His face was literally everywhere; plastered on magazine covers and in the paper and on the TV. Just as Cat had predicted, the play was his big break, and he subsequently picked up a few guest roles on major television dramas and had been cast in an upcoming big budget movie.
In spite of their not-so-little falling out, Cat was happy for him. His dreams were coming true right before her eyes, and even though she was no longer a part of his life, she was pleased to know he was doing well.
The lingering sadness spurred on her own personal creativity, and Cat found herself singing every single night. She penned song after song after song, with lyrics that proudly declared her strength, resilience, and how she could make it on her own, and how much he'd miss her now that she was gone.
She found herself just a little bit amused as she sang through her finished works. Every single one was a breakup song. Cat had never had a real relationship from which she'd experienced a bad breakup. She'd only been on a handful of dates with a few boys in high school, and those were done under the watchful eye of her brother and father. She'd definitely never loved any of them; so the fact that she found herself writing about lost love was sort of funny.
The truth was, however, Cat had loved and lost. She did love Alec; she just didn't think it constituted that type of love. She didn't know any better, and part of her wondered if that was the whole problem with them: the fact she didn't even realize there was a problem until after Monique had taken firm hold of his affections.
The whole situation was, by far, the most confusing thing Cat had ever experienced.
Even more confusing, however, was the hope that rose in her chest when she passed the newsstand to see, in bold black letters, that Alec and Monique had split.
* * * *
"What is wrong with you, dahling?" Monique cooed, only slightly hiding her agitation.
Alec shifted to the edge of Monique's bed and turned his back to her. "I'm just not in the mood, Monique."
"You haven't been in the mood for weeks."
Alec shrugged listlessly.
"I do hope you're not sneaking around wi—"
Alec knew the woman who shouldn't have been his girlfriend was about to invoke the name of the woman who should have been, and he cut her off immediately.
"Don't go there," he snapped. "Besides, you know I'm not that type of guy who cheats."
"What type of guy are you then?"
"Not that type."
Monique released an annoyed sigh. "I really don't know what else I have to do for you. This is starting to become incredibly obnoxious."
"Then why are we even still doing this?" He threw a hand in the air in irritation. "This is what you wanted, remember?"
"Yes, but I don't recall you protesting."
Alec huffed, rested his forehead in his hands, and then stood up and started pulling his clothes back on.
"Well, maybe I should have," he muttered under his breath.
"Not so fast, dahling. I want you to try one last thing before calling it quits." Her voice had a strange air about it.
Over his shoulder, Alec heard her sifting through a drawer in the nightstand and setting things on top of it.
"Come here," she directed.
He sighed as he reluctantly turned, only to see the top of the nightstand was now covered with various types of suspicious paraphernalia and two small piles of white dust.
"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he growled. He grabbed his shirt and shoes and headed immediately for the door.
"Goodbye, Monique."