It’s a mix of every emotion, so intense I have trouble concentrating on anything at all. My office door stays closed and I ignore every text and email and knock. I rescheduled several meetings and give myself the day to gather my composure.
This is what I wanted. It’s exactly what I was hoping he would tell me was going to happen when I stormed into his office yesterday. Keeping my department whole is security and yet I feel nothing but insecure.
It all feels wrong. Just then my inbox pings with a new email notification and the subject line encompasses exactly what plays on repeat in my mind: If you weren’t sleeping with him, you’d have to fight for your job like the rest of us after the merger.
There’s a sinking feeling in my chest and when I click on the email header, the address is one I don’t recognize. More than likely it’s a throwaway account.
“Fuck you,” I mutter and click delete although I can’t say that they’re wrong.
For the last hour, I do what I can, making plans for reassuring our clients and reaching out to other department heads to ensure we have what we need to continue.
If we don’t, we will. I won’t let us miss a beat. It’s critical for our clients to know we’re stable and there won’t be any delays.
If Adrian is keeping our entire department, I have to make sure we have something to show for it. We have to be the best, now that he’s singled us out.
I feel guilty that my department is staying because of what Adrian and I have done together … but not guilty enough to stop doing it.
I’m nervous that he’ll change his mind and even more nervous that he’d be right to do it. And I’m grateful to him for announcing in front of everyone that he would be keeping our department. It saves me an untold amount of time trying to reply to questions when I don’t have any firm answers.
I shake off the nervousness as best I can when it’s finally time to get into the elevator. The office has been emptying out for a while now, and there’s no one to see me step in. Adrian is already there waiting, occupied with his phone. When he glances up at me, my heart races. All the jitters rev up and I forget everything I was going to say.
“I can’t do dinner tonight. I have a number of things that have piled up and arrangements that need to be finalized.” My heels click as I step into the elevator, pretending like that’s all right. Like it doesn’t feel as if he’s struck me and confirmed that everything is wrong and off between us.
“Okay,” I say softly, staring straight ahead as the doors close.
“I can drop you off at your place if you’d like,” he says briskly. It’s cold and I stand a little further away from him as the elevator moves. He puts his phone in his pocket and presses the button for the first floor.
“Are we okay?” Now what I’m feeling is all nerves. It’s tense between us, and different. There’s none of the hot playfulness that’s been part of every meeting we’ve had, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of what he did earlier. I know Adrian made that choice because of me. Guilt comes roaring back.
Adrian lets out a sharp breath and punches the emergency stop button on the elevator. “I need us to be—” he begins, and then he grabs me, pulling me commandingly across the space and into his arms. He lifts my face to his and kisses me hard and passionately, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth, and I part my lips for him with a moan. Heat blazes between us in an instant. It’s unexpected but oh so needed.
Relief and desperation stir inside of me as I cling to him. My back hits the wall of the elevator and everything else slips away, fading to black and blurring into nothing.
My breathing is chaotic and my eyes stay closed as Adrian pulls back. His plea is what forces my eyes open. “What do you need from me to prove to you that you matter to me? That I want you happy and I want you mine and I couldn’t give two shits about anything else?”
Gripping his collar, my fingers grazing against his stubble, I selfishly pull him in for another kiss, soft, slow and deliberate. He tastes minty and every bit of the man I know him to be. I could live here in this elevator if it meant kissing him forever.
Staring back into his pale blue gaze, I stop myself from the response that begs to be heard. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I love you, Adrian. Instead, I kiss him again, needing the stability of his body, until he pulls back to catch his breath. “Will you text me tonight when you’re done?” I attempt to make it sound casual, but I’m not sure if it works. “I’m sorry I’m so needy right now.”
He takes my face in his hands and looks me in the eye. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I will text you.” Adrian leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Do you want Noah to take you home?”
I shake my head. “I can spend the evening with Maddie.”
Adrian reaches for another button on the elevator’s panel, and then we’re moving down again. He kisses me all the way to the bottom. “I’ll text you,” he promises again. One more kiss and the elevator doors open. Adrian is completely self-possessed and put together by the time he steps out of those silver doors and disappears into the lobby.
If only I could be the same.
Maddie’s apartment is a cute, small place in SoHo. By small, I mean teeny tiny. It’s a one bedroom with a decent-sized living room. A crocheted blanket from her grandmother rests on the back of her sofa and our takeout containers are spread out on the coffee table. The comparison of her place to Adrian’s is unavoidable. They are complete contrasts. From the view to the flooring, even the light fixtures. All Maddie has is a single lamp in the corner and ceiling lights in the kitchen. Maddie’s fridge hums in the little kitchen off the living room and every so often the radiator makes a clicking sound. Even if it is small, it’s comforting to be here. It reminds me of when I first moved here. Before my ex, before this job. Over a decade ago now.
Curled up on the other side of the couch, Maddie works her way through the Chinese I picked up on the way here and groans about her latest hellish dating experience.
“He wanted me to pay for everything, including his dinner, after he was such a dick because, quote unquote, ‘If you don’t want to see me again, that’s on you and you wasted my time,’” she says. Her eyes widen just as mine do, with disbelief. “I shit you not.”
“That is … exceptionally … like, I don’t even have words.”
“I would have been happy to split the bill, but are you kidding me? I’m not going to pay a fee for not liking the guy.”
“That sounds awful,” I say, commiserating. “It’s bullshit that you even have to put up with guys like that.”
“I don’t,” Maddie tells me and laughs. “I left him in that restaurant. I just wish there were more good guys on this freaking app, you know? It’s so exhausting to have to search through all of them. Like I’m obviously not good at picking, could someone else do it for me?” A titter leaves her, but I know she’s less than happy and there’s truth to the statement.
“I haven’t looked at a dating app in a long time now.” Stirring the lo mein with my fork, I add, “Not for … months now?” I surmise, “Not since those first few weeks of the separation.”