I didn’t want to have to walk off the elevator and have her greet me. I didn’t want her making me breakfast, or even trying to put on a fake smile. I don’t want any of that shit.
Instead, I want to do my work, I want her to do her work, and then be done with it.
And this is exactly why I promised myself not to get involved with her, because this is what I was dreading, this uncomfortable work environment.
I don’t even know what happened yesterday. I was enjoying watching my girl look gorgeous as fuck among the flowers in full bloom. Next thing I know, I’m puffed out like a balloon, getting yelled at, and then worrying for hours about where Charlee could have gone. If something happened to her on the subway, if she got lost, if she’d been mugged. It was painful. Grandma sat by my side, patting my back, reassuring me that she was going to be okay, but I didn’t believe her. Something inside me was saying she wasn’t going to be okay . . . that we weren’t going to be okay. And I was right.
She came back angry and wanted nothing to do with me. And then, for her to accuse me of thinking our relationship was shallow, that was a slap to the face I wasn’t expecting. I think our relationship is anything but shallow. We’re complicated, we’re unpredictable, we’re desperate for each other, and even though it’s soon, I gravitate toward her for comfort. Especially over the last couple weeks while we were going through the wedding planning.
I’ve put my life on hold for this, to make sure she felt comfortable marrying me, to make sure everything was in place, and even though it was a quick engagement, we were going to have a special day, because I want it to be special for Charlee and her grandma.
I put work events on hold, I’ve rescheduled important meetings, I haven’t RSVP’d to certain events, because I wanted to give my attention to Charlee, to our relationship, to building it, and making it stronger.
Yeah, the sex has been amazing, but the little moments after we’ve come, the moments where we’ve simply held each other, those are the moments that have made our relationship anything but shallow. How could she not see that?
Frustrated, I drag my hand through my hair and start pounding out a response to an email on my keyboard, my fingers running rapidly over the keys. Spelling errors pop up left and right, but I don’t slow down. I keep typing and typing and typing until the door to my office creaks open and Charlee comes waltzing in with a watering can in hand.
I glance up just in time for her to see me and stumble in shock.
“Oh my God,” she says, catching her breath. “When did you get here?”
I turn back to my computer and say, “Seven.”
“Why so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I answer, typing again, but this time, my mind is elsewhere. It’s focused on the stunning woman in front of me wearing a simple blue blouse that’s tucked into the waistband of her black pants. Her outfit is boring compared to everything else she normally wears and that tells me one thing: she’s not feeling like her normal self.
Instead of a smart retort, she walks over to Sir Dragomir, waters him, and then says, “Do you want a smoothie or oatmeal for breakfast?”
“Neither,” I answer. “I got something on the way in.”
And that’s when I see her falter, when I see her shield crack.
“Oh.”
I reach into my bag and pull out a list. Without looking at her, I say, “Here’s your list. I have work to get done, so when you’re done with that list, you can leave. I don’t need the disturbance.”
“Disturbance,” she says, on an exhaled breath. “So, is this what you meant by moving on? You’re done with me now? Should I call the venues, cancel the wedding?” She sets the watering can down and then pulls the engagement ring off her finger. Fuck. “Is this what you want?” She sets it on my desk with a slam. “I’ll work on this list, but I won’t be going home early, because this is my job. And just because you don’t want a disturbance, doesn’t mean I’ll leave. Deal with it.”
With that, she walks out of my office and slams my door.
I stare at the ring shining back at me and the more and more it sparkles under the light the more I grow angry. I snag the ring in my palm and push away from my desk. I’m standing at her desk in seconds. With a palm to the top surface, I lean over and hold the ring out in front of her.
Speaking firmly, I say, “What did I tell you about this ring? This is not to be used as a fucking threat, as a tool in your games. This is a symbol of a joining between you and me. So, what is it, Charlee? Are you throwing in the towel at the first speed bump?”
“First speed bump?” she says, looking startled. “This is hardly a speed bump. You said you were moving on.”
“Not from you. Jesus Christ, Charlee.” I toss the ring on her desk and stand tall. “Do you really think so poorly of yourself, of me, that I could consider you dispensable in my life? Because you’re the furthest thing from it.” I pace away from her desk, hating that this woman has taken over every thought of every day. That she’s affected me to the point that I don’t feel whole unless I see her smile first thing in the morning. How can she not see that? “You mean something to me, Charlee, and I’m not just going to throw that away because we had a disagreement.”
“It wasn’t just a disagreement,” Charlee says, standing as well. “You won’t open up to me, Rath. It’s been like that from the very beginning. How am I supposed to be married to you if you turn into a statue whenever things get serious? You might not want to talk, but I need to hear.”
“It’s not that easy,” I say, gripping the back of my neck with both hands, the tension in my shoulders climbing, skyrocketing. “I just don’t share. I’ve done that, and it came back and bit me in the ass.”
“With who?”
I turn away and take a deep breath. “With someone I don’t talk about . . . ever. Not even my boys are allowed to talk about her, okay?”
I feel her approach when she softly says, “Who was she?”
I shake my head and mumble, “I’m not . . . I don’t want to talk about her.” Sighing, I turn to her. “You can take me as is, right here, right now, knowing that this is who I am now, Charlee. But it’s going to take me time to open up. Or you can give me that ring back and know, once you do, it’s final. You’ll never get it again. I don’t play games. You either marry me or you don’t, but don’t fucking threaten me by taking it off.” I’ve never allowed any business associate to bribe or bulldoze me, and I’m not starting now. This is black and white. She either wants me, the marriage, or she doesn’t. Wanting to give her time to think, I head back to my office.
And even though I’m working, I wait. I wait for her to come into my office, to tell me she’s going to stop fucking around. That she’s going to wear the ring, finalize these wedding plans since we have no time left to really plan, and that we’re going to forget this entire fight.
But she doesn’t come into my office.
She doesn’t stay like she said she would.
She left after her list of things were done.
But what’s throwing me off is not that she took off even though she said she wouldn’t, it’s that I can’t find the ring anywhere.