Tell Me To Stay

by Winters, Willow

  I can’t do anything with them until Lara approves. She gave me the entire week to prepare them, but I feel like I’m deep down at the bottom of a black hole after the meeting today. Six hours straight without even moving from my desk. I’ll look them over tomorrow before sending them to Lara, but I can feel it in my bones that they’re exactly what the clients need and want.

  I have no reason to stay any longer, but still, I head for Adrienne’s office in the back right corner, feeling the heaviness in my eyes as I do.

  I didn’t sleep last night. Not at all. The presentation went off without a hitch, but only because coffee and concealer exist. I don’t think anyone can tell that I am barely hanging on by a thread.

  Hesitating only to smooth my skirt, I finally knock on Adrienne’s door. She’s still here along with a few others in the cubicles, but this entire floor is nearly empty.

  “Who is it?” she calls out.

  Shit. It’s awkward speaking through the wood door, but I do. “Sophie Miller. I just wanted a quick word.”

  Embarrassment floods my face, all the way up to my temples, but she tells me to come in and I suck in a breath, knowing I should be quick. I don’t know what I was thinking coming unannounced.

  You were thinking: I don’t want to go home.

  My mouth is open before the door is even closed, ready to tell her I only wanted to thank her for giving me the opportunity and I hope the presentation was everything they expected, but my lips slam shut.

  Adrienne’s face is red, her cheeks tearstained. She smiles brightly anyway, not bothering to hide the fact that she must have been crying.

  “I’m so sorry, I can come back another time,” I murmur and reach behind me for the doorknob, feeling like a fucking asshole, but Adrienne tells me to stay.

  “Your presentation was wonderful. I know Lara was impressed.” Her tone is muted, her energy drained.

  “Thank you. That’s what I…” I pause and step forward, and she motions for me to sit. I shake my head and tell her, “I just wanted to thank you. That’s all. I really appreciate you giving me a chance, and I’m so happy it went well today.” I don’t even know what words just came out of my mouth because I’m so distracted by how distraught Adrienne is. And how she’s pretending like she isn’t.

  “I’m thrilled to hear that,” she says politely and nods.

  I nod back and feel awkward about it. “I’ll go now,” I tell her but as I turn, she explains, “I’m getting a divorce and apparently I’m more upset about it than I realized.”

  Slowly, I turn back to her, a sharp agony piercing through me from her confession. “I’m so sorry.” My words are sincere, and I hope she can feel that. “If there’s anything I can do,” I start to offer, but I can’t imagine what that would be.

  “It’s not your fault, dear, no reason to be sorry. I’ll be fine. I shouldn’t have put all that on you.” Adrienne lifts her bag onto her chair and pulls out a mirror, setting it on her desk.

  “It’s okay to walk away if it’s not right,” I offer the woman who obviously knows more than me about life, mostly to comfort her, but I feel ridiculous. What would I know about marriage? Let alone divorce. I simply feel bad for her.

  Adrienne gives me a sad smile and says, “It’s not really okay. I find myself running away from everything and I really want to run toward something, but my something isn’t here anymore.” Her voice gets tight and just as I reach out to her, she shakes it off, backing away and leaving me with my hand in the air.

  I let it fall slowly as she wipes haphazardly under her eyes and forces her demeanor back to what I’ve known it to be. “You got the invitation for the client dinner, correct?”

  I start to answer, but my throat is dry and I have to clear it before I answer her, “Tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, it’s going to be lovely. Certainly dress to impress, dear.” She glances at me and then adds, “After all, we are the best of the best.” Adrienne faces the mirror, tidying up her makeup and I shift uneasily where I stand.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I tell her, turning toward the door. She only nods, looking down for a moment before looking back in the mirror and bringing her Dior lipstick to her thin lips.

  There’s a hollowness that follows me as I walk away.

  I never thought about life the way she worded it. I was always running away, but I never looked up to see what I was running toward.

  Chapter 13

  Madox

  Four years ago

  It used to be that she’d stay away for days. But if I texted her to come, she would.

  Then those days turned into weeks. And then she was busy.

  She’s not busy with someone else; it’s just work. When I do see her though, the fire that burns between us always comes back. I guess it worked the first few years because she didn’t have anything else. I know we’re both damaged in a way where we hurt each other, but we make each other feel better too. There’s no one who makes me feel better. No one but her.

  “Come to dinner tonight. Six o’clock at Blue Hill,” I tell her when she answers my call. She loves that place. We have good memories there. That can only be a good thing.

  “I wish you’d ask me,” she says quietly.

  “Will you come to Blue Hill with me?” I ask her, knowing I shouldn’t, because recently whenever she’s been given the choice she’s chosen not to come be with me.

  “We have good memories there,” she says rather than answering if she’ll come with me or not.

  “We do.”

  “I miss those times” she tells me and I don’t say anything back. Missing them means they’re gone and I can’t let that happen. I’ll make tonight good for her and then she’ll stay. I know she will. She can’t hide that she still loves me.

  Today

  The office is quiet. The sky behind me is black, and the streets beneath me are lit with the traffic of the busy city. So many people, so close.

  But I feel so damn alone.

  She’s been avoiding me. No call last night like she said she would. She didn’t answer my texts. She didn’t answer my calls today, and Trish isn’t giving Brett any details. She isn’t giving me much to go on either. She told me Sophie hasn’t told her anything other than that she cried when she left the restaurant.

  Which made me feel even worse than I already did. As if some part of me actually thought she wasn’t crying alone and refusing to let me comfort her.

  The only reason I’m not banging on the door to the address Trish gave me is because Sophie sent a message earlier today asking if we could meet here, at my office.

  Don’t sweat it. Brett’s text hits my phone and I want to throw it across the room. Everyone knows she’s avoiding me just like she did back then.

  She just needs a little time. Trish’s text comes through next and I’m so pissed Brett added her to our chat I nearly throw the phone. Make sure you tell her you love her.

  What if it’s a test? Ryan sends in the group text thread.

  Like she’s baiting him to see if he’ll go get her? he sends another text.

  Trish answers him, She wouldn’t do that. Knock it off, Ryan.

  You women do stupid shit, Ryan writes back, making my phone ping again. I put it on silent, but not before I see Trish write him back. Fuck off.

  They can all shut the hell up and stay out of it. They aren’t helping the situation.

  Even though the phone’s now on silent, I monitor it and the clock both, waiting for Sophie to either message or simply knock on the door.

  And just like that, a timid knock reverberates and I call her in. I see her hair first, the long dirty blonde locks covering her face. She brushes it out of the way and when she does, she looks back at me with a pained expression.

  “Hey,” she tells me softly, watching the door as it closes before taking another small step toward me.

  I recognize the tone in her voice, the too-afraid-to-voice-what-needs-to-be-said tone. My heart sinks, and I can feel
it drop into the pit of my stomach. With my blood running cold she asks if she can sit down, holding her purse with both of her hands.

  I can’t speak, I can only focus on not letting what I’m feeling show as I gesture to the plush wingback chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  “How are you?” she asks and then swallows, setting her purse down on the floor. I watch her and wait for her eyes to reach mine again before answering honestly. “Not well.”

  Her lips tug down and her eyes fall.

  Fuck, this hurts. I want it to stop. It’s not supposed to happen like this.

  “Madox. I need to say something… It just feels like it’s too much getting back together so quickly, if that’s what we’re doing. I need a little bit of time to get a grip on things.”

  I listen carefully. To every word.

  “More time,” I say out loud, not looking her in the eyes and instead lifting my gaze to the clock. Every minute—every second—without her is hell. How can she want more of this, when I can’t stand it?

  “I’m not over what happened, and I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “Over what?” I question her, feeling my anger rise.

  “I’m not over that night and how we left things. I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen.”

  “Then don’t.” My voice raises slightly and I have to concentrate to keep it even as I add, “Don’t pretend, talk it out with me.”

  She clenches her mouth shut and breathes out heavily from her nose, looking past me at the darkened sky.

  “What specifically aren’t you over? What did I do that was so bad that you can’t move past it?” The images of that night three years ago come back to me. The way she writhed under me; fuck, she sought me out. She wanted me. She came back to me, and I gave her everything I had.

  “You mean after you fucked me and called me your whore?” she asks, although I can hear the trace of lust on her lips. “Or maybe you mean when you came into my apartment yelling at me, screaming about how you were so worried--”

  “Don’t minimize the way I feel,” I cut her off, my voice dangerously low as my lungs seize inside of me. She was supposed to come into the bar after me so everyone wouldn’t know we just fucked after being apart for almost a month. She said she’d straighten up, so I should go in first. But she never came. Fifteen minutes passed before I banged on the door to the women’s bathroom, finding it empty except for some brunette who looked pissed off until she saw me.

  “If you’re angry I raised my voice, I’m sorry.” My chest aches with a sadness I know goes back to the way my parents fought. They screamed at each other; that’s how they spoke to one another. And that night, I know I yelled at her when I saw she was just fine and hiding in her parents’ apartment. “You scared me, Soph. I thought something bad had happened to you,” I tell her with sincerity I know she can hear. I know she can feel it.

  “Well, you scare me, so we’re even.” Her voice is small, and it wavers as her eyes turn glossy.

  “How? What did I do?” I nearly choke on my next words as I say, “I didn’t know about your parents.” My throat’s so damn tight. “If I had known--”

  “You would have been gentler with me?” Sophie’s teeth dig into her bottom lip as she reaches up, putting both of her hands on my desk to lean forward. “My problem isn’t how you treat me when I’m with you, Madox. It’s that when I’m not with you, that’s fine to you too. You don’t mind either way.”

  “Bullshit.” The word comes out of me easily. “If I didn’t care, this right here wouldn’t hurt so fucking much.”

  “I told you if you wanted me to stay, to just tell me so.”

  “I don’t remember it that way,” I tell her, standing up from my desk and walking toward her. The motion closes the space between us and she stands up to face me, her ass hitting the chair now behind her, making it creak against the wooden floors as it does.

  When we fight, it’s fire against fire. And I can see the sparks in her eyes. The venom in her voice is nothing compared to the lust. I know she still wants me. I can hear it and see it when she fights. She wouldn’t be hurting if she didn’t love me.

  Please, just love me.

  “The way I remember it is you telling me that you were worth more.” It’s hard to push out those words, because she was. She was worth everything; I just failed to prove it to her. Over and over again I failed. In a world where I can buy anything, I have nothing without her. None of it means anything without her. How can she not know that? “And then the next thing I heard, you’d flown across the country with Brett’s sister because your parents died. That’s more than a little something that may have helped me understand what you needed.”

  Although her face crumples, she keeps her composure steady in her voice.

  “I texted you the next morning before I left. I said if you wanted me to stay, then tell me that.”

  Bullshit is on the tip of my tongue again, but there’s a look in Soph’s eyes I don’t see often. Pure pain and agony. There are times to push, and times to fight. That morning she left, I didn’t hear a single word from her. I know that. It’s a fucking fact. She never messaged me.

  “If I’d seen that message, I would have told your ass to stay where you were.” I tell her the raw truth in a way I hope she doesn’t fight.

  “You saw it, Madox. I know you saw it and you didn’t answer me, because you didn’t care if I left. You assumed I’d come back. You may regret it now, but you can’t change the past.” Her voice is firm, just like her resolve to leave me again. I already know that’s what she’s doing, and I don’t know how I can hold on to her. I can never hold on to her.

  “There was no fucking text message. You left because that’s what you do.” Before the words even leave my mouth, I already regret them. They’re harsh and brutal, and they spill from me out of hurt and the desire to hurt her back. “You leave people. That’s what your mother taught you to do.”

  Regret. It’s instant regret.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you.” I barely get the words out and then shove the next sentence out as fast as I can, “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to run away anymore.”

  The mere inches separating us are both hot and cold. And as I reach out for her, she steps back.

  Don’t leave me.

  “You’re right,” she says in a strained voice as she nods.

  Don’t leave me.

  “I do always run. And that’s why this has to stop.”

  Don’t leave me.

  “You told me to tell you to stay, so stay,” my voice begs her. I have to grip the chair from grabbing on to her, from physically keeping her from leaving.

  “I asked for time.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she tells me, “I didn’t want to fight, Madox.”

  I bite my tongue, holding in the bitter comment that I’ve given her three years. I would rather fight than watch her walk away again.

  “Don’t leave me,” I tell her just barely above a whisper and that’s when she cries, “I’m sorry, Madox. I need to be okay on my own.”

  I want to tell her that she is. That I’m the one who’s not okay. But I can’t. I can’t do anything but stand there gripping the chair as she cries harder when I say nothing. And then she leaves me. I watch her leave this time, and I hate myself.

  I hate the person I am. I hate that I can’t show her I’m the one who’s not okay.

  I’m the one who needs her to stay.

  Chapter 14

  Sophie

  Three years ago

  Is it supposed to feel like this? This empty gnawing sensation inside that eats you alive? It was never like this before. I would leave and feel his absence but somewhere I knew he was still waiting for me. I keep staring at my phone waiting for him to text me, but he doesn’t. The last text is the one I sent him.

  He’s so used to ordering me around, but he can’t tell me to stay. I gave him an out and he took it.

  I hate myself for leaving. I
hate that I’m crying on the mattress that’s on the floor. I hate that I’m this person. This person who needs him and runs to him whenever I’m feeling weak.

  I’ll learn to stand on my own. I’ll learn. I just didn’t think it was supposed to hurt like this. It hurts too much to be away from him.

  Today

  I hate myself. I hate how weak I am. I felt so strong and put together when I was far away from here, at least the last two years I did. I fooled myself into thinking I knew who I was and that I could stand on my own.

  But here I am, crying in my car before a work dinner because I walked away from the man I love. He’s right that I run. I’m still running. This time, I’m not hoping he’ll catch me. I don’t deserve it.

  I’m worried I don’t know how to be in a relationship without fighting. I’m worried I don’t know how not to run away from my problems. I’m worried if I don’t go back to Madox immediately, he’ll stop loving me. And I desperately want to hear him say those words to me, to see him when he says it, to kiss him when he says it. I’m just afraid. I’m so fucking weak for this man, but I don’t want to be. I just want to love him and be loved by him. I wish I were his equal, but I never will be.

  One more deep breath and I touch up the concealer under my eyes, using the rearview mirror before heading into the restaurant.

  It’s the same place Madox took me to two days ago. I’m really starting to hate fate. She thinks she’s so fucking funny.

  Another deep breath, and I put on a bit of mascara.

  One last deep breath, and I climb out of my car. There’s a bite in the air so I pick up my pace, trying not to think about Madox and forcing a smile as the doorman lets me in to the restaurant.

  “I’m meeting a party; I believe it’s under Adrienne Hart?”