"So, there can be no arguments…" She narrowed her eyes at me.
"No. I can't argue over something I don’t know."
"Well, count me in, Baby Girl! Get yourself a hubby and make me some grandchildren!" She let out an elegant sigh.
I only stayed in Connecticut for about an hour or so, as I knew I had a long drive back to the city. I thought that would be one of the most challenging conversations I'd have to have with her, yet it turned out to be amazing.
My mother's full cooperation strengthened me and gave me the will to proceed full-heartedly with my project.
I knew I had a nerve-wracking week ahead of me, yet I tried to remind myself that at the end of that week, I'll finally get to meet my future husband.
Chapter 8
I noticed the looks of people staring at me as soon as I came into the office on the following Monday morning. As if Mondays weren’t hard enough to deal with already.
I thought that everyone there had already gotten used to working alongside a famous person, but I guess I was wrong. At times I really felt like one of the guys, yet my project seemed to make everyone look at me weird.
"I expected more from you," Ethan said with a tsk as he stood in the doorway to my office, shaking his head in a way that annoyed me.
"Well, I'm sorry, Ethan, but you should never have expectations of me, as they're a sure recipe for disappointments."
"I'm serious, Naomi. Cancel that thing you're doing. You don't want to present yourself in such a desperate way."
"Will you do me a favor, Ethan? Can you please keep our conversation topics professional?"
"Oh, now you want to keep it professional? How about you try to keep it professional when you look at me like that," he said, gesturing to me.
"Like what?" I actually was looking at him as he implied, but I couldn’t admit it.
"You know what I mean. Keep it professional when you undress me with your eyes, and I'll try to keep it professional when I talk to you about your love life." He sat down in the chair in front of me, "Or lack thereof," he added, spreading his legs just wide enough to make me gasp for air, then leaning back casually.
I tried. Honestly, I tried not to strip him naked with my gaze but, damn it, I’m only human!
"That's right, you can't," his arrogance made me crazy, yet I couldn’t tell him that he was right, "Now, Naomi, please explain what's the matter with you."
"Nothing's the matter with me. I'm just tired of it all."
"You're tired? Of what? All the good you have in your privileged perfect life? Of all your money? Your fame? The executive position you landed? Your huge salary? Your overseas sponsored trips which I could only—"
"Obviously." I waved my hand dismissively at him and cut him off mid-sentence. "Obviously, that's what you think about my life, Ethan." His simple-minded answer helped me stop imagining him taking off his shirt.
"Then what is it, Naomi? What are you sick of?"
"I'm sick of being alone!"
"So you're turning to despair? Do you think you're alone in being alone?"
"No. I know a lot of people are single, but I decided that—"
"You decided to put yourself up for sale."
"I most certainly did not! I decided to take matters into my own hands."
"And put yourself up for sale!" he insisted, and tears began to suffocate me.
Why did he insist on repeating that? Did he know something I didn’t? Was that the reason everyone was looking at me differently? Did people think I put myself up for sale? Did they think my project was a marketing stunt designed to brand me as a desirable product?
That's awful!
"Look, Naomi, I'm sorry," It seemed Ethan detected the distress I was in. "Please, tell me how it is if I got it all wrong."
"You did, jackass. It's not like that at all."
"Then go ahead and correct me, Naomi. Finish your sentence, and this time, I won't interrupt you."
"Why should I even bother?"
"Because I'm not judging you! I'm just curious to know what motivates a beautiful, smart, rich, and successful woman like yourself to take such an unexplained step."
"You!" I exclaimed and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You and all the men like you are why I took this goddamn step!"
He didn’t seem alarmed by my accusation as he calmly said, "In that case, on behalf of all the men like me, I sincerely apologize." He almost roared with laughter, which had me raging with anger, but I did my best to keep my cool.
I waited for his laughter to die and hoped he would soon notice I wasn’t even giggling along with him, but the lack of effort in which he managed our conversation stayed evident and consistent. He's never attempted to please me, and while that was maddening, it was also refreshing.
"Are you done?" I asked as he turned quiet again.
"I am. Now can you be serious?"
"I am serious, Ethan. Men like you are the reason why I've declared defeat romantically wise."
"So if you're so serious," he gestured with his hand toward me, "this time, I won't speak on behalf of the category of men to whom you say I belong and just ask, seriously, what did I do that made you so frustrated."
"Nothing." I almost whispered my response.
"Ah… Such a typical female answer. You didn't do anything," he said, trying to mimic a woman's style of speech and went on in his own deliciously manly tone. "I'm beginning to understand why no one found you—"
"Oh, will you pipe down already?" I waved my hands in the air, once again, trying to stop his words before they hit my most sensitive targets. "I meant what I said. You did nothing. Not one damn thing. You sent me insinuations, and you constantly flirted with me."
"Well, actually—"
"No, let me finish!" I couldn’t bear to hear him out, so I forced him to shut up, as I went on venting. "One moment you compliment me on a new dress I bought and the next you comment on the way I handle myself. I don’t even get a chance to blink before you smile at me, but just when I think I’ve figured you out, you turn to Nick and seem more interested in him than in me."
I got used to his calm and drama-free style of speech, and I even learned to love it, but I couldn’t bear watching him have yet another one of his inexplicable bursts of laughter.
"Oh, Naomi, I swear... This doesn't suit you."
"What? Insecurity?" I had enough of people defining what does and doesn’t suit a superstar and made sure to go on giving him my piece of mind on that matter. "I mustn’t demonstrate weakness, right? I'm not allowed to have a desire for people to find me attractive. Why shouldn’t all this suit me? Am I not human? Am I less flesh and blood than anyone else?" I exhaled angrily.
"No, no. Everything you just listed actually fits your dumbass perfectly." His playful smile made me look at his chest muscles sticking out through his t-shirt again. "I was actually saying that it's not like you to miss out on some very obvious signs. I thought you were an intelligent woman, Naomi. Don’t make me doubt that."