Hey, Jersey. I hate… HATE that I need to cancel, but work is kicking my ass. I’ll be at the office all weekend.
I responded: No worries. If you need to take a break, let me know.
He never replied.
Maybe it was the letdown, my libido, or even my heart, but something had nudged me into doing something completely out of character.
I decided to order his favorite sushi rolls and deliver it to him at work. If Jade was right, and Nate was also out of his element, maybe we could find our way together. Part of me wondered if showing up and distracting him was fair when he was so busy, but he needed to eat, and I’d keep it to a short visit.
Yes, I may have primped more than necessary. I may have taken a bit too long to select the bra and thong set I slipped on, or even the well-worn jeans, formfitting blue sweater, and brown leather boots that completed my outfit. I may have even indulged in a vivid visual of Nate and I having sex on his desk. Who could blame me?
As I applied mascara, my phone pinged with a new text notification. Assuming it was from Nate, seeing a response from Janis reminded me she hadn’t called me back after I reached out on Wednesday. Something was up with her. She had canceled our touch base, which wasn’t unusual except that it was the second week in a row.
Sorry. Been swamped. Let’s plan to meet next week.
Hoping I had her attention, I quickly typed back:
Have you heard from Runnel?
It was the same question I’d asked on my voice mail to her, and I couldn’t shake the feeling she was holding something back from me. I waited through the telling sign a response was coming, only for it to turn into radio silence.
That wasn’t like her. Janis wasn’t one to sugarcoat or pussyfoot around bad news. In my business it was necessary to have a thick skin. Refusals were a dime a dozen. If anything, Janis was always the more positive between the two of us, reminding me often that no news was good news.
Dismissing Runnel from my thoughts, I spritzed on perfume and left my apartment before I could chicken out.
About a half hour later, I walked out of the Japanese restaurant in my neighborhood with my sushi haul and grabbed a cab to head to Nate’s office.
Nervous flutters began assaulting my stomach, and with each city block we traveled, they worsened. I’d done all sorts of things with this man, so having anxiety over delivering him dinner seemed ridiculous.
Except, deep down, I knew it had to do with the normalness of the act… something a girlfriend would do for her boyfriend, of which we were not.
Panic hit me full on as the cab veered toward the curb directly in front of his building. “Shit, what am I doing?”
“Are you talking to me?” the driver barked.
“No.” Like a coward, just as I debated on asking him to do an about-face, a gorgeous blonde stepped out of the building with Nate right behind her.
I went stone-still, staring at them through the window, forgetting about the crusty old man staring me down in his rearview mirror. Until he grumbled, “Lady? Ya gettin’ out or what?”
“Keep the meter running.” I slid down in my seat while my attention remained riveted by their exchange. They talked for a few minutes, and at one point the woman put her hand on his lapel, her head dipping back as she laughed. In response, a brilliant smile spread over his face and remained as they talked some more. He then said something to which she nodded, and he placed a hand on the center of her back to lead her up the street, away from where I remained spying.
There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. There were probably dozens of reasons Nate would have to leave the office at 7:00 p.m. with what could be a colleague or client after claiming work was kicking his ass. There were also a million reasons I should’ve stuck with my gut. Seeing him with a hand on that woman’s back, as innocent as it probably was, caused an irrational level of jealousy to ignite within me. It caused me to want to jump out of the cab and demand to know who she was and where they were going. It caused a level of humiliation that I’d tried so hard to never feel again.
It proved it was no longer just a sexual arrangement between two adults. For me, it had morphed into an emotional connection with a man who made it very clear he wasn’t capable of the same. He wasn’t at fault; I was.
“Lady!” The cabbie’s bark caused me to jump. “What are we doin’?”
“Change of plans.” I then recited my address and asked, “You like sushi?”
Once I had gotten back to my apartment after the sushi debacle on Friday night, I truly tried to break down what it was that had me so pissed off.
I finally figured it out.
Me.
I was annoyed at myself. I hated feeling vulnerable. It always brought me right back to being a seventeen-year-old who had been humiliated by a boy I thought loved me. Not only had he ruined prom weekend, what should’ve been a beautiful memory, a rite of passage, but he’d broken my heart. That kind of hurt ran deep, as was obvious more than ten years later.
Really, I knew going in how things would be between me and Nate. He was very honest in what it was he wanted, and I thought I wanted the same. In my defense, it had always been so easy to remain emotionless in my past relationships. Stupid me assumed it was because I had my shit figured out and knew what was good for my life.
Never had it occurred to me that it was the men I’d been with that made it easy to stick to my convictions. And even after realizing all that, I still couldn’t ignore the little voice in my head that had been warning me Nate would be trouble all along. Regardless, this yucky confusion riddling me wasn’t Nate’s fault in any way. It was all mine.
I had two options: continue as things were and sit around waiting for him to be the one to bring our arrangement to an end or ignore Jade’s advice and beat him to the punch. Sure, waiting would give me more time to relish in the best sex I’d ever had. On the other hand, it would also allow my feelings for him to grow… and that meant deeper heartbreak.
Decision made: I’d be parting ways with Mr. Navarro. Now I only had to decide how and when. No way would I be going to his office again. A phone call was probably the safest way to escape his influence. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to make the call. Waiting until the weekend wouldn’t work, either, with the birthday party Jade had scheduled. All the what-ifs consumed me, and Nate had no idea any of it was plaguing me.
Oblivious, I eventually heard from him early Sunday morning via a text.
Much rather be working on you than this pile of invoices.
Although I believed him, I chose not to respond. I also took it for what it was—sexual frustration from a horny man.
When I finally did speak to Nate, it wasn’t because I’d grown the nerve to call him. Instead, he called me on Thursday to again cancel our weekend. He didn’t know that I knew the real reason why he had plans, but he also didn’t say he had plans with his family. Work was the excuse he used again, and to say it didn’t hurt that he lied, even though he didn’t know the real story, would be my own lie.
Deep down, I knew if he wanted me there, he would’ve asked. I also knew not to expect him to have invited me. It all served to prove I was doing the right thing.
I called Jade the moment he hung up, ranting that the ass hadn’t asked me to come to the “supposed” family dinner and admitting I really didn’t want to go to that damn party. I should have known she’d pull the sympathy card. Like a true attorney, she pleaded her case, ending the argument with one simple fact… that I should do it for Max, and her.