Boss Man Bridegroom

by Quinn, Meghan

  Even now, with his texts, they feel real, like he truly needs me in his life, but how can I possibly believe him? He’s never shared anything with me, he’s never let me know the real him, the vulnerable side of him. Am I just supposed to believe everything he’s texting me now? When I’ve never heard him say anything like it before?

  No. I can’t.

  Sighing, I turn toward the door just as there’s a knock on it. My mom cracks the door open and asks, “Can I come in?”

  I nod.

  She must be frightened as she walks in, because this is the first time she’s come into the room and I’m not crying.

  “Are you okay, honey?”

  I shrug. “Not really, just numb, but I’m sure that’s normal.”

  She rests her hand on my side. “You’re taking this harder than what Chris did.”

  “Yeah, I know. Chris didn’t make me feel half the things Rath did.”

  Cautious because I’m talking, my mom says, “You love him?”

  And just like that, tears fill my eyes and they pour down my cheeks.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  I wipe them away and sit up in my bed, pressing my back to the headboard. “No, it’s okay. It was bound to happen again. I can’t seem to stop it.”

  “Has he text you today?”

  I nod. “Of course. He texts me every day.”

  “What does it say this time?”

  Forgetting my boycott on the texts, I open it up an read it out loud. “Remember the time we were Team Lemon Curdies and you kept shouting obscenities about penises to me?” I snort, and it comes out all bubbly and snotty from crying. “I wish I could replay that night all over again, but this time, not shy away from telling you how I really felt in that moment.”

  I set my phone down and take a deep breath.

  “Penises?” my mom questions, trying to lighten the mood.

  “We were playing Pictionary. He was drawing a cannon but what he really drew was a penis that was blasting everywhere.”

  “Oh dear.” My mom covers her mouth and laughs.

  “I was stuck on the male genitalia, he thought he was drawing a cannon blast, so it was a horrible combination, but we had a good laugh about it. That night I found out he was attracted to me. He told me on the balcony.”

  “And was that before or after your grandma told you she was sick?”

  “Before,” I say quietly.

  Exhaling, my mom takes my hand in hers and says, “I know you’re hurting, honey, and everything that happened to you this week has been hard, but I think you need to look past the fake engagement for a second and think back to all the moments you had with him before then. You might be surprised to learn that his intentions weren’t just to be unveiled at the wedding, but to grow closer to you.”

  “But if that were the case, how could he possibly do that to me, if he was interested in me?”

  “Men work in mysterious ways, honey. They think they’re doing the right thing, when in reality, they’re being idiots.” I chuckle again. “Your father has been an idiot far too many times to count. He’s hurt me, I’ve hurt him, but we also love each other very much, and I can’t imagine my life without him, so we work out our differences. It might be hard at the moment but living a life without each other would be so much harder.” She forces me to look at her. “Do you think living your life without Rath is going to be easy?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s already overwhelming me. I dream about him, I yearn for his touch, for his hold.”

  “Then why don’t you text him back?”

  “Because, Mom. I don’t want to be a secret. A woman who wears a man’s ring, but never spends time with his friends. Whose parents don’t even know I exist. I don’t want to go back to someone who can’t tell me a simple thing about his past. If I’d had an inkling about Vanessa and who she was, we probably wouldn’t be in this position. But I tried. I tried many times to get him to give me more of his past and he wouldn’t.” I shake my head. “I might be in love with him, but I refuse to be with someone who only gives me the first layer of their heart and not the whole thing.”

  She solemnly nods. “I can understand that, but I also don’t want you to miss out on something so amazing because you’re projecting a past relationship on the newest one.” She stands and gives my hand a pat before leaving my room.

  I slouch back in my bed and pull the covers up over my shoulders.

  Projecting a past one on the current one?

  I don’t think that’s what I’m doing.

  Then again, if Chris had told me how he was feeling rather than lie to me, I never would have been left at the altar. Have I been badgering Rath for information so I’m not hurt again?

  Guess it really doesn’t matter, because he hurt me anyway.

  * * *

  Knock. Knock.

  “It’s open,” I call out, drinking a cup of coffee that my dad brought upstairs for me. It’s my last day here. Tomorrow, I told myself, I’ll go back to work and put on a strong façade. I’m already nauseated thinking about returning, but I know I can’t hide away forever either. I had my week, now I need to strap my heels back on and get back to work.

  The door creaks open and I roll my head to the side to see my grandma walk into my room.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, internally cursing my parents for allowing her to come up here.

  “I came to steal some of your childhood clothes.” She rolls her eyes and makes herself comfortable on my bed. “Why do you think I’m here? To apologize.”

  “Well, I don’t accept, so take your fake illnesses and leave.”

  “It’s cute that you think your snappy attitude is going to send me on my way. I’ve known you your entire life. It didn’t work when you were a baby, or a teenager, and it’s not going to work now. I am your grandmother and you’re going to listen to me.”

  “That’s right,” I shoot back. “You’re my grandma, which means you’re supposed to protect me, take care of me, teach me all your wisdom, not deceive me.”

  “And that’s what I was doing. I was protecting you.”

  “Protecting me from what?” I scoff.

  “From making a giant mistake and not ever letting yourself love again.”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?” I ask, feeling the burn of her eyes penetrate the shield I haphazardly thrust between us.

  “Three years, Chuckie. It’s been three years since you even looked at another man. And during those three years, I saw you coil inside yourself. I watched you shy away from any romantic involvement, and I watched you mourn a relationship for far too long, a relationship that in the end, didn’t have the kind of connection you deserve. And then I saw you with Rath.” She shakes her head. “It was none of my business to get involved, I understand that, but I also couldn’t take it anymore. And I will tell you the same thing I told him—”

  “You spoke with him?”

  She nods her head. “I went to his apartment yesterday and I’ll tell you this, Chuckie, if that boy was playing you and using you, he never would have looked the way he did.”

  Playing with a piece of lint on my comforter, I ask, “He looked bad?”

  “Chuckie, he had frosting in the corner of his mouth and in his hair.”

  Oh God . . . I try to hold back the smile, but I can’t help it. I chuckle and bury my face in my hands, letting the giggles take over. Rath and his pastries combined with the way he nervously pushes his hand through his hair all the time, it was bound to get him someday.

  “He had pastry in his hair?”

  “Yeah, it was humbling to see him like that, to say the least.”

  That makes me feel a little better and gives me a bout of confidence. I need to go to work tomorrow.

  “So, what did you say to him?”

  “That on my birthday, I saw something special between the two of you. Not only could he not take his eyes off you, even when he was talking to me,
but I saw the yearning in your eyes, and I knew you’d never do anything about it. I knew despite the feelings you were developing for him, you would hide them, never letting them grow and blossom, and after three years of watching you live a dark life, I couldn’t do it anymore. You’re my best friend, my girl.” She tears up and grabs my hand, I let her take it. “And I want you happy. I want you to have all the happiness. Yes, I went about it all wrong, but I also knew I needed to do something drastic to get you to move the needle to moving on. Did it work? Yes. But was it wrong? Incredibly. And I will always be sorry for worrying you and putting you through such emotional trauma, but am I sorry for doing it?” She shakes her head. “No, because it brought you two together, it made you see what you could have, what you should have. It gave you the courage to let yourself feel again, to let yourself love again.”

  Tears form in my eyes and I take a deep breath, watching my connection with my grandma and I say, “I love him, Grandma. I love him so much.”

  “I know, sweetie.” She pulls me into a hug and once again, tears cascade down my cheeks and onto her cream sweater.

  “I wasn’t supposed to fall for him. I was supposed to get my life started up again, not fall for my boss.”

  “Life is a tricky thing. It does what it wants, and I’d be sad to see you let this opportunity go because your scarred heart isn’t willing to heal.”

  I pull away and wipe at my cheeks.

  “I don’t know, Grandma.”

  She squeezes my hand and says, “Just give it some thought. Don’t shut him out immediately, okay?”

  I nod and take a deep breath. “Did you bring me anything?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To make it up to me. Did you bring anything . . . like your famous sugar cookies?”

  Chuckling, she stands from my bed and goes to the hallway where she brings a container of cookies and sets them on my lap. “All for you. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. I can only tolerate you right now.” I point my finger at her and I say, “I swear though, if you ever try a stunt like that again, you will be seeing an early grave and I’ll be digging it. Got it?”

  She nods.

  I take a cookie out and bite into it, letting the sweet icing soothe my soul. “You’re not forgiven, and it’s going to take some time for me to trust you again, but these cookies are really good. Thank you for making them for me.”

  “You’re welcome, Chuckie. As long as you keep giving me chances to make it up to you, I will. Just promise you’ll give me a chance.”

  “I will.”

  “And promise me you’ll give Rath a chance.”

  I look to the side, chewing. Once I swallow, I say, “We’ll see, Grandma. Love is fragile. When it’s broken, it’s very hard to repair.”

  “Giving it a chance to repair is the first step.”

  But what if I’m too scared to take that first step? Yes, my mom told me with love can come hurt, but after what happened with Chris? My trust is fragile. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to put myself out there again, especially against such a magnetic man. But is Grandma right? Was I letting this opportunity go because I believe my heart is too scarred? That it can’t heal?

  Even though, many times when I was in his arms, I thought it already had?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  RATH

  Pastry box in hand, I step onto the floor of my office and look around the empty space, my hope falling flat when I don’t see Charlee.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, wanting to drop-kick the pastry box into one of the windows. She’s not back yet? I thought maybe she would take a week and then come back, but now I’m worried she’s never going to come back to work . . . or to me.

  Deflated, I head to my office and open the door only to find Charlee setting a tray of food on my desk. I stutter step to a stop, shocked to see her, elated to be in the same room.

  “Charlee,” I say on a short breath. “You’re here.”

  She clasps her hands together and nods. “Yes, I thought it would be best to come back to work. I’m sure my laundry list of things to do is astronomical.”

  We’ve fallen quite behind, but there’s no way in hell I’d give her work to do right now.

  “Not too bad,” I say, swallowing hard and taking a step forward. I hold the pastry box out and say, “I, uh, got some of the cheese ones you like.”

  She smiles softly and rounds my desk. She’s wearing black trousers and a tight purple blouse that looks amazing on her. She’s beautifully stoic, and it kills me that she’s not wearing all the same color, or that she’s not bouncing off the wall, chattering my ear off, or that she’s not asking me a million questions about my morning routine.

  Instead, she takes the box from me and starts to walk toward the door. “Thank you. I’ll grab myself one. Would you like me to put one on a plate for you?”

  “Sure,” I say quietly, and she disappears.

  Fuck, this almost seems worse.

  At least last Monday she was mad, she was ready to lay into me and teach me about how to be a good person, but now it feels like the life has been sucked from her and she’s going through the motions rather than letting herself be real.

  I take a seat at my desk and look at the little tray with a smoothie and some fruit on it. I don’t know what I was expecting when I walked into the office today, but a lackluster Charlee was not on the list.

  She walks back in and I can’t help the way I lust after her, how I desperately want to take her hand in mine and bring her around to sit on my lap, where I can revel in her sweet scent and run my mouth over her silky, soft skin.

  She sets a plate down on my desk and then takes a seat across from me with her own plate. Taking a bite, she chews for a few seconds and kindly says, “Thanks for the Danish.”

  Christ.

  This isn’t just awkward, this is depressing. It’s as if she’s deciding to ignore anything that’s ever happened between us. And how do I even broach the topic of hey, you’re being weird without being insulting?

  You don’t.

  “I figured we could have a little chat if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, leaving my food to rest on my desk. I’m not hungry in the slightest.

  “I think we need to set some ground rules for working together, you know, so there aren’t any misunderstandings.”

  I nod, even though I want to drive my fist through the wall. The last thing I want to be doing right now is setting ground rules. What I want to be doing is apologizing and making everything right between us, not set up rules that can keep her farther away from me.

  “Should I grab a notebook and we can write them down together?”

  I shake my head and say, “How about you work on them and then we talk them over tomorrow?”

  That will give me some time to ignore this idiotic idea and come up with a plan. A plan that I’m going to have to make happen very quickly.

  “Oh, sure. Are you busy?”

  “Very,” I say, wanting to usher her out of the room so I can start thinking of a way to end this misery.

  Coming in today, I had the idea that I would talk to her, apologize, and by noon we’d be back at my place, making up, but that idea was immediately squashed the moment I saw how apathetic and quiet Charlee was.

  It’s as if someone literally took all her energy for themselves and left her with barely anything left. I did that to her. Fucking hell.

  “Okay, well, should we go over what I need to do?”

  Shit, I didn’t put together a list either, because once again, my goal coming into the office wasn’t to work; it was to get my girl back.

  I rub my jaw. “Why don’t you get started on emails and then I’ll, uh, make a list for you?”

  Make a list that’s going to get her out of the office so I can work on things without being disturbed.

  “Sure, that works. I probably have a ton.” When I think she’s going to leave, she
doesn’t instead, she lifts her eyes to meet mine when she says, “Please don’t feel like you need to keep me around. If you want to let me go, no hard feelings, okay?”

  Has she lost her goddamn mind? Let her go? Jesus, her job is the only thing right now keeping her close to me, so there’s no way I’m going to let her go. No, I’m going to hold on to her as long as I can.

  But I don’t say what’s on my mind, I keep it neutral and say, “It’s something we can talk about later. Right now, let’s just work on tackling our emails and getting through the morning. I’ll email you a list of things in the next hour.”

  Her face falls, and I wonder if I said something wrong, if she was looking for another answer, but before I can question it, she’s out of her chair and headed to her desk. She looks over her shoulder and says, “If you need anything, just let me know.” She shuts the door behind her.

  Yes, I need something. I need you. I need you to come home with me. I need you to be my girl. I need you to love me.

  Leaning back in my chair, I pull up an empty email and start filling it with tasks. Tasks that will keep her as far away from the office as possible for the rest of the day.

  I have some planning to do.

  * * *

  I never realized what an unimaginative asshole I was until today.

  Blank.

  I’m drawing a complete blank when it comes to ideas to show Charlee how much she really means to me. Because I can say it until I’m blue in the face, but she’s never going to believe me until I actually show her.

  But the ideas of showing her are next to nothing. All I have on my notepad is buy more pastries. As much as I wish it were true, I’m afraid a Danish won’t solve anything.

  I’m desperate and when I’m desperate, I do things I shouldn’t. Charlee is gone for the day, I made sure of it, so I pull up my contact list on my Mac and dial the only person who will be able to help me.

  My computer FaceTime rings a few times until it’s finally answered.