There is nervous heat rising up my neck and burning my ears. He is being so open with his feelings. So honest. Not like the Henrik I know at all. It has been such a roller-coaster ride with him; I don't quite know how to assess this. Perhaps it is best I am honest with him.
"That was beautiful Henrik. But I asked cake to marry me." I smile as does he, but my joke doesn't do much to lighten the mood. "I’m struggling to respond, but I just don't know. I feel so much for you, and I think you know how easily my body responds to Herr Henrik Von Spankypants." I smirk as he shakes his head smiling.
"But that isn't enough is it? Perhaps I am a bit weary of your words because all I know are your actions. Like you said, you haven't treated me well since I have known you. Hell, you walked out in the middle of interviewing me and sent Evaleen in to end the interview. That was shitty. And that was just the beginning. I am partly to blame for putting up with it, but I told you no so many times and you still took advantage of your power over my body. And by power, I mean your sex appeal."
I take a breath and look around the room, hoping to see something that will help me understand what I am doing here. All I see is blank walls, a large desk, and a black mesh office chair. There is nothing that can help me, not that I even know what I am looking for.
"I guess what I am trying to say is, maybe we need to walk away from this. I think the words ‘I love you’ should easily being falling from my mouth after your confession, but they aren't. It’s funny because the words fell from my lips last night when I hung up with you. But that was different. That was me letting it out, saying goodbye, because that’s what your actions this past month and a half have told me you wanted.”
A bitter laugh escapes my mouth and I shake my head before continuing, “I am going to be honest here. When you told me to come to your place and even when you brought me into your office here, I really thought the day would end with us having sex. Part of me really wants that, but not the part that holds my heart. I don't know. Maybe I just need some time. Does that make sense? You haven’t done much to prove you want to stick it out with me. Yes, you gave up your job, but then you walked away. What am I supposed to take away from that?"
My eyes hesitantly glance at Henrik to see him staring at something on the far wall. His knuckles are white from his hard grip on the glass and I can tell his body is tense. No one speaks for a minute and the air fills with only the sounds of our breaths.
Finally, Henrik stands and without looking at me, he walks over and curls his arms around me. The hug is tight and his body shudders as he takes a ragged breath. This is how we stay for some time. He finally releases me and pulls away, taking my hand in his as he leads me out of the room.
Once we are at the front door, he opens it and turns to me before I step out. "I understand Morgana; I'm not happy about it, but I understand. The only problem is I can't have you in my life if you don't want to be with me. I am not saying that to be mean, I am telling you this because it will hurt me too much to see you and not be able to touch you. I still love you and will forever be grateful you helped open my eyes. I’ll miss you Morgana."
Once I am outside his place and in the hall, I turn to tell him how I’ll miss him too, but he closes the door gently. I am left staring at blackness.
In a dazed state, I meander the hall to the elevator and decide to slowly walk the streets of Chicago in search of home. My eyes not really seeing the people, cars, and buildings as the images of the past hour race in my head. I’m numb as I wonder if I did the right thing.
Chapter 7
Payne’s Anti-Rule 1: When You Understand People You know How to Push Their Buttons.
Six Weeks Ago
"We’re better off without her. Ifyouthinkaboutit, she was just too good to be true. We need sssssomeone more real…real…listic in nature. Morgana was funny, sssexy, sssmart, and refreshingly ssssweet. Ha! That’s fun to sssay. Someone like that doesn't exist. YouknowwhatIthink? I think sssshe was just a figment of my imagination." After my profound speech, I turn dramatically, slightly stumbling, because that's what they do in movies after the hero comes to some significant realization.
As I turn, the whiskey from my crystal tumbler spills on the window I was looking out of. I watch it drip down the glass and remember only a week and a half ago Morgana smeared her lips on this exact window. I bring my lips to the liquid drenched spot and begin to lick up the smoky alcohol. Before I realize it, my mind is racing to images of kissing her soft lips. How her greedy tongue would whimper for more.
"Do you need me to clean the window sir?" Winston's British cadence breaks me from my fantasy and I realize I am making out with the window. Instantly I right myself and stumble slightly in the process.