Boss Man Bridegroom

by Quinn, Meghan

  I turn toward him, giving him a full view and slip the shorts on first, then the camisole. His eyes never fall from my body, even when I walk over to him, reach into his pants pocket, and pull out his phone. I take his finger, unlock it, and then pull up Grubhub and order myself some pizza and garlic knots. Time to carbo-load and eat my feelings.

  Once that’s done, I return the phone back to his pocket and then slip under my cool covers. Our eyes don’t stray very far, but we’re completely silent. Keeping his gaze trained on me, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and slips it off his broad shoulders. His pants are next as he unbuckles them and drops them to the floor, followed by his socks.

  I watch as his chiseled body makes its way to my bed where he scoots me to the side and slips under the covers as well. He props himself up against the headboard and then tries to pull me into him, but I don’t allow it.

  “Charlee,” he breathes, “you can be mad at me, but please just let me fucking hold you, okay? I was scared shitless that something happened to you. Just let me hold you.”

  Sincerity laces through his voice as he looks completely deflated and exhausted at the same time, and even though I’m frustrated with him, I can understand that he might have been worried, so I give in and sit next to him. Of course, he doesn’t think that’s good enough and gently pulls me into his chest where he holds me tight.

  “Christ, we were scared. What the fuck were you thinking going to Coney Island without a phone?”

  “Listen, Rath. I don’t need the lecture.”

  “You were gone for over three hours, Charlee. Without a phone.”

  “So?” I push off his chest and grow defensive again. “Believe it or not, before you met me, I was able to handle myself in this city without you swooping in, being my knight in shining armor. I didn’t need you coming in to fix my life, offering me a job, an apartment, and a way to help my grandma.”

  He reels back, as if I slapped him. “I’m not trying to save you.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re doing? Treating me like a charity case?”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he asks, squaring off with me now. “Is that what you really think all of this has been?”

  “Maybe not at the start, but that’s what it seems to have become. As if you’re tossing money at a stripper.” I do the hand motion of shooting off bills in front of me. “You’re handing out accommodations, drivers, fake proposals, orgasms, and all for what, Rath?”

  “For you,” he says, his voice turning dark.

  “But why? I know you think I’m attractive, and oh how great, you want to date me, but what does that really mean if you don’t want to open up, if you don’t want to hand me a piece of yourself? I’m not a shallow person, but you’re making me feel shallow.”

  “Wow,” he says, leaning back and pushing his hand through his hair. “Just . . . wow.” He stands from the bed and starts getting dressed. He punches his arms through his shirt and buttons it up while addressing me. “If you think this is a shallow relationship, then clearly you haven’t been paying attention.”

  “I’ve been paying attention, Rath. I’ve been paying attention to how you avoid any deep conversation I try to have with you.”

  “We have deep conversations. What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “What about your previous relationships? Why don’t you talk about those?”

  He finishes his last button and says, “Maybe because I don’t want to make you feel weird by talking about the women I used to fuck.”

  “See? Right there.” I point at him. “You said the women I used to fuck, rather than the women I used to date. Are you really that emotionally unavailable that you’ve never been in a real relationship before?”

  He shakes his head and takes off leaving my door open so I call out, “See? Avoidance.”

  His feet stomp back to my room and he grips both sides of the door. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about that shit because it hurts too goddamn much to think about it. I’m not like you, Charlee. I don’t want to rehash being left at the altar. I don’t want to talk about the person who hurt me. I want to forget and move on, and that’s what I’ve done.” He looks me square in the eyes and says, “I’m moving on.”

  And before I can reply, he takes off again, but this time I hear the door slam a few moments later.

  Anger and hurt swell inside of me, turning me into a tailspin of emotion. I drop down to my pillow, shut my eyes, and cry. This is exactly why I never should have gotten involved with the man. I should have known from the very beginning that this wasn’t going to work out. I guessed and managed to get right so many things about Rath Westin. What he’d like to eat, how to organize his office, how to bring elements into his life that made things easier. And not once did he acknowledge those things with personal anecdotes of why he liked them. Not once did he tell me what he thought about me staying with him. There’s been gaping holes in so many aspects of our relationship that I’ve possibly overlooked due to physical infatuation. Foolishly, I thought one thing led to the other. That maybe I’d be the girl that actually makes an impact on the man. I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d let me in. Would give me a chance. And despite the perfect opportunity to talk, open up, he walked away.

  Grandma was right—we face kerfuffles head-on. But fun fact: Rath Westin does not. Rath Westin moves on.

  If only I knew what he was moving on from.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  RATH

  I’m in the office early in the morning. From Charlee’s access key swipes every morning, I know she gets here at seven thirty to beat me and get everything set up for the day, so I made sure to get here at seven.

  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 unti
l 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.

  * * *

  “Do you need a hug? You look like you need a hug.” Bram steps up next to me in my kitchen with his arms spread.

  I’m not in the mood for his theatrics, but goddamn, I could use a hug. I step into his embrace and he quickly holds me tight.

  “That’s it, big guy, take all the good loving. Take. It. All.”

  Okay, it just got weird. I push him away, grab my opened beer from the counter, and walk over to the living room with a bowl of Doritos. Bram follows me and we both take a seat on my stiff couch—it still hasn’t been broken in despite the amount of times Charlee and I have fucked on it.

  “So, you guys broke up, called the wedding off?” Bram asks, popping a chip in his mouth.

  “I don’t really know.” I drag my hand over my face and slouch in my seat. “Fuck, man, I really have no clue what’s going on. She wants more from me, but it’s hard. After giving everything to Vanessa, only for her to up and leave, I can’t go through that again. And I know I worked a lot with Vanessa, that I pushed her to the side, but I also was going through a really rough time with the company. I needed a goddamn moment and I couldn’t spend every waking hour making her happy—”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” Bram says, holding up his beer. “Did you hear what you just said? You weren’t going to spend every waking hour making her happy.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “With Julia? I’d go sleepless if it meant I could spend a few more hours in the day, making sure I see Julia’s smile, know she’s content, satisfied, full of joy. I want nothing more in life than for my girl to be happy, and I would go to any extent to make that happen.”

  “Are you saying I’m a shitty boyfriend?” I ask, feeling even worse now.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. What I’m trying to point out is that even though you thought you loved Vanessa, she wasn’t your soul mate. If she was, you would have made the time, you wouldn’t have pushed her away. You might have loved her, man, but you weren’t in love with her. There’s a difference.”

  I pause, my beer halfway to my mouth and then exhale. “Shit, I never thought about it that way.” It’s as if a lightbulb turns on in my head and everything starts to make sense. I did love her. I loved her a lot. She was my friend, my lover, my confidante, but was I in love with her? According to what Bram says, I wasn’t. She was the first person I allowed to see my heart, but I didn’t protect hers like I should have if I was in love. I wasn’t bending over backwards to fulfill her needs, and even though we were together for two years, she never lived with me. She stayed at my place on occasion, but I never asked her to move in. And yet . . . apart from the initial sexual tension, having Charlee live in my apartment is incredible. Welcome. Easy. The idea of her gone . . . never coming back . . . Fuck.

  “You know I’m right, don’t you?”

  I sip my beer and say, “Maybe, yeah.”

  “She wasn’t the girl for you, man. If she was—”

  “I never would have let her walk away.”

  “Exactly.” He smiles and bites the very tip of a chip like an asshat. “Look at us having a th
erapy session. We should have done this a while ago. Maybe then you would be more receptive to the girl you actually care about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Growing serious, Bram says, “Come on, man. We both know what’s going on with Charlee is way more than just this idea to make her grandma’s wish come true. I see the way you look at her, the way she makes you smile. I’m not dumb, it’s the same way I look at Julia whenever she walks into the room and it’s the reason why you’re sulking right now. You like her.”

  “Of course, I like her. I never would have suggested to marry her if I didn’t like her.”

  “No man, you like her, like her. You want to have babies with her like her.”

  “Getting ahead of yourself,” I say. But I’ve thought about it. Ever since our Grandma’s counseling evening, when the idea was first floated, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I want that. I want that future with Charlee.

  “Seriously though, tell me right now that you don’t—”

  Knock. Knock.

  We both turn our heads toward the door and then back at each other.

  “Did you order anything?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, Julia made salmon for dinner.”

  Confused, I stand from the couch and walk to the entryway. When I open the door, Charlee’s standing on the other side with a bag in her hand. Immediately my stomach does an excited and nervous somersault as I take her in.

  Leggings, long sweater, her slipper boots on her feet, and her hair weaved into braids, without an ounce of makeup on her face.

  She’s unthinkably perfect.

  “Oh hey, Charlee,” Bram calls out as he walks up behind me. “I was just leaving.” He pats me on the shoulder and gives me the look. You know, the look from a best friend that says, remember what we talked about. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He turns to Charlee and says, “Be easy on the big guy. I promise, there’s a heart in there.” And then he takes off, leaving me alone with Charlee.