She slithers over and looks at us still joined together. I can’t pull away from Bridget, not in her state of undress. I can feel her shaking below me, clearly petrified as to what’s going to happen. I stroke my hand down her arm, hoping to soothe her. I won’t let this bitch get anywhere close to her.
“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account. I’m sure my husband won’t last much longer,” she says to Bridget, and that’s enough for me to pull out, the evidence front and center.
“Get out.”
“Temper. Temper. And in front of the help.” She tsks.
“Out.”
My words bounce off the walls, making Bridget cower underneath me and Chelsea actually look shaken. She turns on her heel and marches down the hall, leaving my door wide-open.
“Fuck,” I bellow. “Fuck!” I pull my pants up and throw my shirt on, ready to storm after her. “Here. Get dressed. I’ll be back after I take care of her.”
Bridget doesn’t say a word, only nods.
Now to deal with my wife and her lack of respecting my space.
Time stretches like an eternity. A never-ending loop as I wait. The only problem is I know the truth. The sands of my clock have run out. Grant will be here soon and I know what he’s going to say. Our time has run its course.
No matter what we did, how he kissed me, how he touched me, and how good he felt inside me, it will never matter how I feel. He’ll never be mine. I saw it in Chelsea’s eyes. She’ll hold him hostage in his life forever and for Isabella, he’ll go along with it.
After being caught in epically embarrassing fashion, I gathered my things and hauled ass to the safety of my home. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the showdown between Grant and Chelsea. I didn’t want to bear witness to the threats and demands she was inevitably doling out.
When the buzzer echoes, I pretend to not hear it. I’m not ready. I don’t want this to end.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Broken and despondent, I finally answer. “Hello.”
“It’s me.”
I press the button without responding. My stomach slowly bottoms out as I open the door and wait. As soon as I see him walking toward my door, I know my suspicions aren’t wrong. This is it. He doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t smile. I step aside. He walks past. The sound of his feet hitting the hardwood floors resonates within me. Like the ticking of a clock. One about to expire.
Tap. Tap.
I look down to see my own foot has started its own beat, nervously drumming on the hardwood floors. I’m desperate to delay this conversation, yet desperate to get it over with just the same. I close the door and pause for one minute to collect my bearings. I won’t let him see me break. When I’ve willed myself to be numb, I go in search of him. He’s sitting on my couch, head buried in his hands.
“Grant,” I whisper.
His head pops up, his gaze meeting mine. My vision blurs. My eyes rapidly fill with unshed tears that I smash down. My pride won’t allow it.
Don’t let him see you break.
“I thought we’d have more time.” I try to smile.
“I thought so, too,” he mutters more to himself than to me.
“What did she say?” I ask, more because I don’t know what else to say. Truth is, I don’t really want to know.
“Does it really matter?” It doesn’t and we both know it.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and I can see the remorse etched in his face. It’s there in the stiffening of his jaw, the unshaven skin dusting his face.
“It’s not your fault. You warned me and I didn’t listen.” I shrug.
“I don’t want this.”
“But you have no choice.”
“No,” he responds with a sigh.
I want to scream. I want to bash my hands against his chest and say there’s always a choice. That if I meant more he’d find a way to fight for me, for us. He won’t, though, because I’m a passing fling. A woman to lose himself in to feel less pain. I was his own personal bottle of Xanax, but it’s being ripped away. The choice isn’t ours to make.
I nod, more to myself than to him. Several minutes pass without a single sound or word uttered. What’s left to say? Why drag this out?
“I think you should go.”
Self-preservation.
“I really—”
“No, Grant. Let’s not do this.” I muster the bravest smile I can manage. “It was fun, but it’s over.”
Pause. The silence is suffocating us. It is suffocating me.
“It was,” he finally says, looking as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. I step past him and his hand moves to reach up, but I move away. He can’t touch me. I’m holding on by a small thread. “Will you be okay?”
“I knew from the beginning what this was. You didn’t lie about that.” It’s a half-truth. I might have known what I was getting into, but that didn’t stop me from forgetting along the way. Hoping things would change.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I say to appease him.
I know what I need to do. I have to let him go. I have to let it all go. I have to move on. I open the door to the apartment.
“Bye, Grant.”
He steps through without a word. He walks out the door and out of my life.
It’s over.
The next day at work I head straight to HR to request a transfer. When I arrive, Paige doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
“Hey there,” she calls out cheerily. “Mr. Lancaster sent you down bright and early. Did he already tell you about the change?”
“Change?” I manage to squeak.
“He called this morning and said with the opening coming up, marketing is in need of your help. I’m supposed to get you transferred to Alyssa’s department.”
My stomach drops. This is better. I know it is, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He’s truly getting rid of me.
“Sounds good,” is all I can manage. I don’t want to give myself away, but it’s taking everything to hold it together.
We spend the next thirty minutes going through paperwork and the logistics of the change. Paige escorts me to the marketing department, which is unnecessary since I’ve worked on and off with Alyssa over the past several weeks. But it’s nice having her company.
“Well, here you go. I think you’ll love working with Alyssa in a broader capacity.”
I smile at Paige, not wanting to dampen her excitement. Truth is, she’s right. Marketing is more my thing and getting experience in different areas of The L can only help my résumé.
“Thanks, Paige.”
She smiles. “Oh, hey. Would you want to grab drinks sometime with a couple friends of mine?”
The thought of going out doesn’t sit well with me. All I want to do is work and crawl in bed and shut out the world, but it’s not what’s best for me. I need to live. I’m young and I need to mingle with people my age. “Sure.”
Paige squeals and walks away, leaving me chuckling at her retreating back.
I walk up to Alyssa’s desk. It’s trashed with loads of papers spread everywhere. They could use all hands on deck in the marketing department, that’s for sure. Alyssa looks as if she could pull out her hair.
“Can you believe it’s only a week away?” she asks, not looking up from whatever it is she’s doing. “I’m freaking. There’s so much to be done.” Her eyes meet mine and I see a bit of panic in her dark blue irises. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be here. We’ve got this, don’t worry.”