If you haven't read part one of Chapter 1, you may want to go back to read it to put this section in context.

Well, that’s that. Shaking, she turned back into the enormous bedroom. Though she was filled with shame underneath the rage, she sighed with relief. Each day the stalemate had gone on, she became more anxious. The moment of truth had finally come and she was still standing.
Taking in a cleansing breath through her nose, she forced it out her mouth and went to the bathroom. The mirror above his sink, with the cabinet behind, stood open. It was empty. Looking at herself in her mirror, she wondered why he’d been attracted to her in the first place. In her opinion her eyes were too small and her eyelashes too light. If she wasn’t wearing mascara, they were invisible. She didn’t like the way the corners of her mouth turned down slightly, though she did have nice full lips. Continuing her assessment, she admitted she wasn’t his type at all. How she wished she were taller like the models that his ad agency hired, and that her honey-colored hair were either more blond or more red. Then there were the idiosyncrasies of her personality. She was an introvert to his extra-extrovert. She preferred quiet evenings at home with one or two friends sharing earnest conversations about the latest book they’d read, a movie or play they’d seen, a current event, or life philosophy.
Sam was in his element in the noise of a ball game, busy restaurant, or night club. He seemed to know everyone. His favorite topic always had to do with himself – his latest triumphant ad campaign, or a celebrity he’d met. Early on, it was painfully obvious, he thought of her as an ornament, something to make him look better. It was hard to admit that he’d chosen her only because she was a rising star in the local publishing scene and could talk intelligently on almost any topic with his potential clients.
After months of being presented like the latest shiny possession, she’d admitted to herself that he’d chosen her for her knowledge of literature, history and current events, things he knew very little about. Oh, he understood pop culture, which served his work well, but he wasn’t interested in much else. Which made her nothing more than a commodity to him. When faced with that fact, she’d wept. The death knell to their relationship came when she’d asked him to read Inferno so they could discuss it. She thought he’d comply since it was the latest best seller. Laughing at her, he’d refused.
Standing there looking at herself in the mirror, she knew that was the real end to their relationship. They had nothing in common. However, pride made her try to make their relationship work. Now, many months later, there was no escaping the fact that she’d tried to become who he wanted her to be. In the end it was no use, but she’d waffled about ending their relationship, because she didn’t want to admit she’d failed again. Why did she always go for men who were emotionally unavailable?
If only she could find someone more like her, someone who enjoyed a quiet evening at home discussing things that mattered to them. Someone who enjoyed a small group of friends at the dinner table. After so many tries, she wasn’t sure there was such a man.
Sam had dazzled her, like the others had, with his charm and beauty. She was always flattered when each Adonis was attracted to her. However, it always ended the same way. After the honeymoon period was over, they’d belittle her and scoff at the things she loved. Each time, that old self-doubt dragon would raise its head reminding her that she was unlovable, and she might as well admit it.
This time, however, a little voice deep inside assured her that there was nothing wrong with her. But, as she turned to the closet to pick out her clothes, she had to admit she didn’t believe it. The hole in her heart was still empty.
Stepping into the shower, she let the hot water soothe her body. Her feelings were raw, however, and tears mingled with the shower droplets. She took off Sam’s ring leaving it on the shower shelf, thinking nothing could assuage her wounded self-esteem. Drying off, she pulled herself together long enough to dry and style her hair, put on her make-up and clothes. She rode the light rail to work without breakfast. Her stomach was stuffed with self-condemnation.
In the elevator, she nearly lost her composure, but by the time the doors opened, she’d plastered a smile on her face, greeting coworkers until she could make it to her office before the threatening tears overflowed once more. Once there, she plopped down in her chair, exhausted.
The corner office that had once been her former boss Diane’s had a lovely view of the city of Portland with Mt. Hood in the distance, when it was clear enough to see it, that is. Today was a gray day in mid-April. The weather matched her mood. Before she could get settled, and her mind in gear for work, Joan stepped in the door. Her pert dark hair was cut short and framed her oval peaches and cream face. Concern shone out of her dark eyes and puckered her rose colored mouth. Jenna faintly registered how smart Joan looked in the navy blue suit she’d found on sale at Nordstrom’s when they’d gone shopping a week ago.
“Hey, are you all right? You look like your dog just died.”
“Sam walked out this morning.”
“Oh man. That SOB. Did he say why?”
“The usual crap, ‘It hasn’t been working for a long time.’ Oh, and he got a promotion and he’s moving to L.A.”
“Well, good riddance. You knew this was coming. Now you can move on.”
“Yeah, but when it finally happens, it’s still a shock. And somehow I blame myself.”
“Sweetie, just because he wasn’t the right guy, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
“Keep telling me that until I believe it will you?”
“I’ll take you to lunch and we can talk, okay?”
“That’d be great. Thanks. We better get to work. I don’t want to lose my job too.”
“Okay. We’ll go to Chin Yen’s and we can boil him in oil.”
Jenna laughed. Joan changed the subject. “Still haven’t heard anything about your promotion?”
“Not yet.” Just then Jenna’s phone rang. They both jumped. Jenna cleared her throat. “Jenna Holden.” She grimaced, “Yes, Mr. Dayton. I’ll be right up.”
Joan crossed her fingers. “This has got to be it,” Joan said as they left Jenna’s office.
“I hope so, I could use some good news today.”