“What if we revisit the idea next month?”
I groaned. “No. Besides, with a man so…handsome and educated and intelligent, he won’t be on the market for long.”
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“I’m stubborn? Why don’t you leave Dad?”
She gasped at the thought. “Stop that nonsense talk.”
“Has he ever hit you? Or does he just verbally assault you?” I gritted, keeping my hands from clenching.
“He has never hit me. We will not talk about your father this way.”
“But we can. If you ever need to talk,” I replied carefully.
She didn’t respond for so long I wondered if the line had been cut.
“I won’t say a single word if you want to vent,” I added.
There was another long silence between us before she asked, “How is work?”
“Busy.”
“Did you work today? You are still working?”
“Of course. I’m at work right now, actually.”
“Oh! You should get back.”
“It was nice to hear from you.”
“You should come by the house again.”
I smiled. The irony of that invitation. “Maybe next time you can come by the apartment? You’ve never seen it.”
“You know how your dad disapproves of you living alone like that.”
“You can come without Dad, maybe?”
“Silly child of mine. Get back to work.”
“You know that I love you, Momma, right?” I finally said. That phrase, that word was not something we expressed. It felt awkward, but it had to be said.
“I know,” she replied softly.
We chatted for another few minutes before saying our goodbyes. The day was over. Most headed out, including Wendy, which explained why someone knocked directly on my opened door. A man. I could tell by the slacks and large hands, but not by his face hidden behind a comically large bouquet of roses.
“I think you have the wrong office,” I said. “Who’s that for? Maybe I can redirect you.”
“It’s for you,” he said, sounding a lot like Mike.
I froze into place, hyperaware of every escape route and every ordinary item that could be turned into a weapon. I hated that his mere presence made me think this way.
He approached my desk and twisted one way and then another before finally placing the basket on one of the chairs.
“Not quite sure where you want this.” He looked around, trying to find a spot for the behemoth.
“How did you get in here?” I asked curtly, noting where sharp things were located throughout my office. I could most definitely use a pencil to gouge his eyes out if he got too close. I sort of hoped he would try something. Let’s see how he’d like feeling scared and threatened and dehumanized, how he’d like to deal with anxiety attacks and fears whenever he heard a creak in the middle of the night or walked too close to someone else or found himself outside alone in the dark.
“Security gave me ten minutes to bring this gift up.”
“They just let you waltz in here? Did your friends vouch for you at security again?” I was going to ream those idiots.
“No. They’re gone for the day. Your friend did.”
“What friend?”
“The Indian guy. I don’t know his name. He’s in the hallway.”
Jay? His shadow fell across the entrance and I knew he stood right outside the door. I kept my sigh of relief to myself. He wasn’t far, then, just in case something happened. “What are you doing here, asshole?”
“Apologizing.”
“With flowers? Isn’t that cliché?”
He walked around the desk and dropped to his knees, glancing only once at the ice around my ankle but not bothering to ask about it. “Will you forgive me for how I acted last night?”
“No. Are you scared that I might report you? I’d be more terrified of that, Mike. Getting beaten by a woman is bad for the ego, but having a record will follow you wherever you go. To all of your jobs, to all of your relationships. People like to know the truth. And your truth is ugly.”
“Please? Don’t report me. I got out of hand. Nothing like that has happened before. I just want your forgiveness. I’m on my knees begging you.”
“Asking once and saying ‘please’ once does not constitute begging.”
He proceeded to ramble a dozen pleases, one after the other, until I could no longer stand the word or the insincerity. I groaned, trying to ignite anger to disguise the remnants of trepidation he’d left in me.
But then I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. I asked, “Mike…are you afraid of something?”
“No.” He scoffed.
I took a pair of scissors from the top drawer. The sound of metal sliding against metal cut through the silence. Mike got to his feet real quick then. Yeah. He was afraid.
“How’s it feel to be scared?”
“You’re being very cryptic.” He gave a hoarse chuckle.
“Cryptic is your last image of me calmly holding these scissors and telling you to forever wonder if I’m coming at you. This isn’t over just because you brought flowers and a lame, insincere apology. I may or may not press charges against you. I may or may not have that video from the garage as evidence.”
His mouth dropped, and his skin paled. A very oh shit look hit him. And it was beyond gratifying.
I went on, “I may or may not punch you in the throat if I see you again. But rest assured, people will find out. If I see you with another woman, she will hear it from me.” I limped around the desk toward him as he backed away.
He opened his mouth to spew more nonsense, but thankfully Jay appeared behind him. Jay stood at the door, his arms crossed, his shoulder against the frame. He didn’t even have to say anything. His presence was commanding and all-consuming. One knew when Jayesh Shah stepped into a room. There was something about his presence that made the tiny tremors in my body fade away. My grip on the scissors relaxed, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him as he glanced at my fists.
Even though he seemed relaxed, the chiseled cut of his jaw was stern. Our eyes locked. He held my gaze with authority and confidence and, strangely enough, it wasn’t the least bit domineering. Men like him hardly ever balanced strength without the sort of cockiness that instantly shut me off. Powerful men? Plus. Arrogant men? Minus a million points.
Mike eventually stopped babbling, his words drifting off, and looked over his shoulder.
“Am I interrupting?” Jay asked, his gaze firm on me.
“No. Mike was just leaving,” I replied and placed the scissors on the desk behind me.
Jay looked to him pointedly, his tone dropping to something menacing and terse. “Security is right outside waiting to escort you out. Bye.”
Mike muttered something inaudible and skulked away, leaving Jay room to meander toward the floral arrangement. He rubbed a petal between his fingers. “Are you guys dating?”
“No.”
“Nice flowers for someone not dating.”
“Apology flowers. Did you have anything to do with this?”
“Me? I only met Mike the other day when he asked you out at the café.”
“Hmm,” I grunted suspiciously.