Ctrl + Alt + You

As I sat there on a bench in the pouring rain, mascara streaking down my cheeks, something hit me — I had horrible taste in men. Like, truly bottom-of-the-barrel bad. I was a magnet for emotional disasters in human form.

I’d had more failed relationships than Taylor Swift and Kim Kardashian combined (sorry, ladies). At least they turned their heartbreak into empires. Hell, Kim got a whole career boost out of a sex tape. I had one too, and it made me exactly zero dollars and one lifelong trust issue. They never had to worry about money. Meanwhile, I was just trying to figure out how to pay next month’s rent without selling a kidney. I’m pretty sure neither of them would be sitting in the rain, ugly‑crying into a sleeve. Nope — they’d be wiping their tears with hundred‑dollar bills and a PR team on standby.

I sighed.

I needed to pull myself together. I knew I looked like a drowned rat, my lacy black bra was definitely showing through my white blouse, and it was clear Prince Charming wasn’t going to come find me — asshole. Not that I wanted him to. I had zero interest in reliving the nightmare that had been dinner. In retrospect, there were plenty of signs the night was destined to implode. First sign? He showed up almost an hour late — and he’s the one who insisted on the time and place. Second sign? My heel broke walking up to the restaurant. Thankfully, I never clean out my car and managed to dig out a pair of ballet flats that had seen better days. Third sign? By the time he finally arrived, I’d downed what I’m pretty sure was an entire bottle of sympathy wine. Each time the waiter refilled my glass, he gave me one of those pity smiles. You know exactly the kind I mean.

When he finally decided to show up, he gave me a half‑hearted smile, a kiss on the cheek, and sat down without even taking off his coat — my stomach dropped. Never a good sign. I knew exactly what was coming; I’d fallen victim to it more times than I cared to admit, and honestly, I’d probably have used the same lines on him in a couple weeks if he hadn’t beaten me to it.

“Look, Sage, these past couple of months have been amazing—”

“It’s been ninety days, but who’s counting.”

He blinked. “Uh… yeah. You know what I mean. Wait — you’ve been counting?”

I nodded, grabbed my wine, and took a chug. “I’ve always had a thing for counting, I guess. Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. You’re breaking up with me, right? Let me guess — it’s you, not me, you met someone new, you’re sorry, and I deserve better?”

His eyes widened. Nailed it. I was a pro at this.

“Um… well, yeah, in a way. Sage, look, there’s no easy way to say this, and I’m ashamed I didn’t tell you from the start—”

“Please don’t tell me you have an STD.”

He recoiled. “No?”

“You’re gay?”

“What? No. I’m married.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I said — loudly. Heads turned. A few people glared.

“Sage—”

I set my wine glass down and tried to pick my jaw up off the table. I was a lot of things — a bitch, a hoe, insane, loud, dramatic — but I was not a homewrecker. Anger shot up my spine, followed immediately by shame.

“Don’t you dare Sage me. Oh my god, I’m a homewrecking harlot,” I said, mortified and, once again, way too loud.

He cleared his throat. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Clearly he didn’t know who Sage Quinn was. I was the absolute queen of dramatics.

“Oh, you haven’t seen dramatic. You literally invited me on a date to tell me that for the past ninety days I’ve been in a relationship with a married man. You could’ve done this in a text. Something like, ‘Hey, you’re hot, sex was great, but just so you know I’m married and the old lady found out, so we’re done.’ But no — you bring me here, make me wait an hour, and then drop this bombshell and expect me to stay calm? You’re really fucking dumb.”

I buried my face in my hands. This was not what I expected. My mind was racing, my stomach flipping, and suddenly I felt like I was going to vomit. I knew I should’ve taken the waiter up on those breadsticks. Dumb ass.

“I—I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I don’t feel good.”

I stood, the world spun, and yep — I yakked right there. Everywhere. Mortified, I bolted out of the restaurant. Screw the bathroom. I ran down the street, wanting to be anywhere but there. And of course, the gods decided to make the night worse, because what was Sage Quinn’s life without one unfortunate event after another?

I screamed and collapsed onto a bench, letting the rain fall on me — hopefully washing the vomit off my shoes. “What a piece of shit. I hope he gets a flat tire, has no spare, and his phone dies so he can’t call for a tow truck,” I muttered.

I sat there feeling sorry for myself when it hit me — I hadn’t paid my bill.

I’d just dined, vomited, and dashed.

Not only did I get dumped and told I’d been banging a married man — I was going to jail too. I had to go back and pay, but there was no way I could show my face.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I took a deep breath, wiped my nose on my sleeve, and smeared mascara all over my shirt in the process. I looked exactly how I felt — and probably worse — which explained the disgusted looks from people walking by under their umbrellas. People could be so judgmental. I mean, I know I’m not the only one who’s had a night like this. Well… okay, maybe I am.

“Alright, Sage. Let’s go,” I muttered, giving myself a pep talk.

I trudged back to the restaurant, silently praying he was gone, the shift had changed, and the police weren’t waiting for me. I walked in. No cops. Great. No jackass either. Even better. But the same staff was there, and the hostess was looking at me like I was the scum of the earth. Bitch.

“Can I help you?” she asked, dripping condescension.

“Uh, yeah. So funny story — I was just here, kind of puked everywhere, ran out embarrassed… and just realized I didn’t pay my tab. So I’m here to pay it.”

She cocked an eyebrow. Like she didn’t remember me. Unless another woman had come in tonight, puked, and sprinted out.

I gave a half‑smile and reached into my purse for my wallet — and realized I didn’t have my purse.

“FUCK ME. You cannot be serious,” I blurted — loudly, of course.

“Ma’am, your tab is paid. The gentleman covered it.”

“Oh thank God. And by the way, he’s definitely not a gentleman — he’s a two‑timing liar and a cheater — but I digress. Anyway, I think I left my purse. Did anyone turn it in?”

She shook her head.

“Are you going to even look before saying no?”

“I don’t need to,” she said flatly. “I’ve been here all night. No one turned in a purse.”

Tonight was quickly becoming the worst night of my life — and that was a competitive category.

I sighed. “Can I at least check where I was sitting?”

“They’re cleaning up your vomit,” she said.

My face burned. “Okay… can I use your phone? My phone was in my purse, and since no one turned in my purse, I don’t have one.”

She gave me a slow once‑over, judging every life choice I’d ever made. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Looks like you’ve been through the wringer. Just make it quick.”

I nodded. Quick. Sure. I dialed the one number I knew by heart and prayed someone answered. It rang and rang. Of course no one was going to answer — I was about to chalk it up as another loss when—

“Hello?”

“Todd?”

“Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sage. Put my mom on the phone.”

“Oh hey, Sage. Yeah, hold on—LILY! SAGE IS ON THE PHONE!”

I pulled the receiver away from my ear. A minute later, my mom answered. “What have you gotten yourself into now, Sage?”

“Hi, Mom. Nice to hear your voice too. Look, I need a favor.”

“Of course you do. That’s the only time you call.”

I rolled my eyes. She was such a pain in my ass. “Look, long story, but here’s the cliff‑note version: I got dumped at a restaurant, vomited, ran away, and in the process left my purse — which I’m assuming was stolen. Joke’s on them, though, there’s nothing in it worth stealing, but my entire life was in there. I’ve had a shit night. Can you just bring me my spare key? The one Dad kept in his office drawer?”

My eyes started to glisten. “That is… unless my car was stolen too. Please, Mom. I’m begging you.”

The line went silent. For a second, I thought she’d hung up on me. Then she sighed. “Yes, of course I will. Where are you?”

I covered the receiver. “What’s the address here?”

The hostess sighed like I’d personally ruined her life. “2514 Aurora.”

I nodded, mouthed a thank you, and rattled it off to my mom

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Hang tight. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I can drive off into the sunset, Mom.”

“Life isn’t always a joke, Sage. I’ll be there in ten.”

She hung up.

I handed the phone back and sighed. I scanned the room for somewhere to sit and headed toward the bench.

The hostess cleared her throat.

“Unless you’re dining with us… again, I’m afraid you can’t sit there. That seating is for customers only.”

I gave her a weak smile. “Sure, no problem. Not like it’s raining or anything.”

I stepped outside and leaned against the wall. I was not ready for the lecture I was about to get. All I wanted was a hot shower, a joint, and my bed.

My mom pulled up in a record eight minutes, and she looked pissed. I was used to it. Hard to believe I’d once been the light of her life. I walked to the car with my hand out, expecting her to just hand me my keys.

I am a dumbass.

Any chance Lily Quinn had to give her two cents, she took it. I rolled my eyes, opened the door, and got in.

“Sage. What the hell happened? Look at you.”

“Can you not? Seriously. It’s been a long night. Trust me, I didn’t want to call you any more than you wanted to see me.”

“Knock it off. You look like you got hit by a bus. Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Wow. That was mean. I honestly thought I looked amazing. Really rocking the raccoon look.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of intelligence, Sage.”

“Yet I’m the one who went to college. Maybe you should try being more sarcastic.”

If she wanted to be a bitch, I could be one too.

“I’m going to pretend that didn’t come out of your mouth. What would your father say if he heard you speak to me that way?”

“Guess we’ll never know, right?”

Tears pricked my eyes. I tried to blink them back, but it was useless.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? You really get a kick out of throwing the biggest mistake of my life in my face as if you’re perfect. News flash, Sage — you’re thirty, you jump from job to job, man to man, you don’t even have a pot to piss in. Yet here you are acting all high and mighty.”

I nodded. Okay, universe. We’re doing this tonight. Bring it.

I turned and looked her dead in the eyes.

“No, Lily, I will never let you live down the fact that you cheated on my dying father. I will never forgive you for letting that man move into the house less than a year after we buried him. I will never forgive you for caring more about your boy toy than your own damn daughter. You want to sit up on that high horse of yours? Last time I checked, you have no job, the man you have is the same washed‑up asshole you cheated with, and you live in the house my father bought and paid off. Give me my fucking keys.”

I put out my hand for my keys. When she didn’t place them in my palm, I looked at her. Tears were threatening to spill, her bottom lip trembling. I should’ve felt bad. I didn’t. Okay… maybe a tiny bit. But I wasn’t about to admit that.

“Okay, Sage… here’s your keys.” She dropped them into my hand. I gripped them with my left and swung the car door open with my right. The night air slapped me in the face — I’d forgotten how soaked I still was.

I went to step out… then remembered I needed her phone. Perfect. Give your mom the read of her life, nearly make her cry, and then ask for a favor. Here goes nothing.

I exhaled, long and shaky, and turned back.

“Let me guess — you need this?” she said, holding up her phone.

I nodded. “I do. And I hate that I do.”

I took the phone and stared at the screen like it might magically remind me of Lucy’s number. What the fuck was Lucy’s number?

“If you’re looking for Lucy’s number, it’s saved under Lucy,” Mom said, voice soft but knowing.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you have her number?”

“Sage… she’s been your best friend since third grade. She’s had the same number since high school.”

I sighed. “Whatever. Thanks.”

I scrolled, found Lucy, and hit call. It rang once, twice—

“Hi, Ms. Quinn!”

“Luce, it’s me.”

“Oh—okay. What’s up? Why are you calling from your mom’s phone? Is everything okay?”

“Long story. You’re not going to bed anytime soon, right?”

“No… why?”

“Someone stole my purse and I don’t have my house key.”

“You lost your purse? Oh my God, Sage. Again?”

“Stolen. Not lost. Luce, please — not right now. We’ll talk when I get home. I have to give my mother back her phone. See you soon.”

I looked up. Mom was twirling a strand of hair, eyes somewhere far away, like she was replaying her own regrets.

“Okay.”

I ended the call and handed her the phone. “Thanks. I love you. Have a good night.”

She gave me a faint smile — the kind that never reached her eyes. “I love you too.” I turned to leave when she added, “Sage… I’m sorry. For what I said. It was horrible timing and the delivery was horrible. I hope one day you can forgive me. I really do. I miss my little girl.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah… maybe one day. Bye.”

I shut the door and walked to my car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I took a deep breath, trying to stop my brain from replaying everything in slow, humiliating detail.

What a fucking night.

Fucking Levi.

Fucking fuckety fuck.

I let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a strangled cry and glanced in the rearview mirror — then froze.

Who the fuck was this woman? I’d been walking around looking like this for hours? Oh my god.

Jesus. No wonder the bartender looked concerned. I looked like heartbreak and poor decisions had a baby and named it me.

I threw the car into reverse, then drive, and peeled out of the parking lot with three things on my mind-a shower, a shot, and my bed.