by Ava Harrison
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to her.”
“But—”
“No buts. How could you even think she could be better than you? A woman—no, a mother who can’t even find it in her to love her own daughter! No, Bridget. You’re everything and she’s nothing.”
I let my words sink in. I have a sudden need to brand her as mine. What is it about being with Bridget in the office that ignites me? Is it because it’s forbidden, dangerous?
“On my desk.”
She sits on my desk and peers up at me.
“Elbows,” I demand. “Spread your legs.”
She’s spread out before me like a feast.
I lick my lips and step toward her. Hungry. Desperate to sink into her. To savor and possess every inch of her. It’s been too long. Too many days have passed since I’ve been able to lose myself in her.
“You have a thing about me on your desk. We really need to get a new place for foreplay,” Bridget teases.
“You like to torture me.” A statement. Not a question. Not that I mind particularly. I’d take everything she is willing to give me, torture included.
Her chest heaves. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but she’s not fooling anyone. She’s been torturing me. Swaying her hips, bending over. Pure torture. All so I’d fuck her. I know the game she’s playing and I’m happy to oblige. I pump in and out of her but stop short when my office door flies open to reveal Chelsea.
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave,” she says as her lip snakes up, showcasing her pearly whites. The smile is wicked. Plotting.
I almost want to smile back at her. Ask if her black heart is crushed even slightly, but I’d have to care to ask that and I don’t. If not for wanting to protect Bridget, I’d laugh in Chelsea’s face.
“So this is how you spend your nights, dear husband?”
She slithers over and looks at us still joined together. I can’t pull away from Bridget, not in her state of undress. I can feel her shaking below me, clearly petrified as to what’s going to happen. I stroke my hand down her arm, hoping to soothe her. I won’t let this bitch get anywhere close to her.
“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account. I’m sure my husband won’t last much longer,” she says to Bridget, and that’s enough for me to pull out, the evidence front and center.
“Get out.”
“Temper. Temper. And in front of the help.” She tsks.
“Out.”
My words bounce off the walls, making Bridget cower underneath me and Chelsea actually look shaken. She turns on her heel and marches down the hall, leaving my door wide-open.
“Fuck,” I bellow. “Fuck!” I pull my pants up and throw my shirt on, ready to storm after her. “Here. Get dressed. I’ll be back after I take care of her.”
Bridget doesn’t say a word, only nods.
Now to deal with my wife and her lack of respecting my space.
Time stretches like an eternity. A never-ending loop as I wait. The only problem is I know the truth. The sands of my clock have run out. Grant will be here soon and I know what he’s going to say. Our time has run its course.
No matter what we did, how he kissed me, how he touched me, and how good he felt inside me, it will never matter how I feel. He’ll never be mine. I saw it in Chelsea’s eyes. She’ll hold him hostage in his life forever and for Isabella, he’ll go along with it.
After being caught in epically embarrassing fashion, I gathered my things and hauled ass to the safety of my home. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the showdown between Grant and Chelsea. I didn’t want to bear witness to the threats and demands she was inevitably doling out.
When the buzzer echoes, I pretend to not hear it. I’m not ready. I don’t want this to end.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Broken and despondent, I finally answer. “Hello.”
“It’s me.”
I press the button without responding. My stomach slowly bottoms out as I open the door and wait. As soon as I see him walking toward my door, I know my suspicions aren’t wrong. This is it. He doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t smile. I step aside. He walks past. The sound of his feet hitting the hardwood floors resonates within me. Like the ticking of a clock. One about to expire.
Tap. Tap.
I look down to see my own foot has started its own beat, nervously drumming on the hardwood floors. I’m desperate to delay this conversation, yet desperate to get it over with just the same. I close the door and pause for one minute to collect my bearings. I won’t let him see me break. When I’ve willed myself to be numb, I go in search of him. He’s sitting on my couch, head buried in his hands.
“Grant,” I whisper.
His head pops up, his gaze meeting mine. My vision blurs. My eyes rapidly fill with unshed tears that I smash down. My pride won’t allow it.
Don’t let him see you break.
“I thought we’d have more time.” I try to smile.
“I thought so, too,” he mutters more to himself than to me.
“What did she say?” I ask, more because I don’t know what else to say. Truth is, I don’t really want to know.
“Does it really matter?” It doesn’t and we both know it.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and I can see the remorse etched in his face. It’s there in the stiffening of his jaw, the unshaven skin dusting his face.
“It’s not your fault. You warned me and I didn’t listen.” I shrug.
“I don’t want this.”
“But you have no choice.”
“No,” he responds with a sigh.
I want to scream. I want to bash my hands against his chest and say there’s always a choice. That if I meant more he’d find a way to fight for me, for us. He won’t, though, because I’m a passing fling. A woman to lose himself in to feel less pain. I was his own personal bottle of Xanax, but it’s being ripped away. The choice isn’t ours to make.
I nod, more to myself than to him. Several minutes pass without a single sound or word uttered. What’s left to say? Why drag this out?
“I think you should go.”
Self-preservation.
“I really—”
“No, Grant. Let’s not do this.” I muster the bravest smile I can manage. “It was fun, but it’s over.”
Pause. The silence is suffocating us. It is suffocating me.
“It was,” he finally says, looking as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. I step past him and his hand moves to reach up, but I move away. He can’t touch me. I’m holding on by a small thread. “Will you be okay?”
“I knew from the beginning what this was. You didn’t lie about that.” It’s a half-truth. I might have known what I was getting into, but that didn’t stop me from forgetting along the way. Hoping things would change.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I say to appease him.
I know what I need to do. I have to let him go. I have to let it all go. I have to move on. I open the door to the apartment.
“Bye, Grant.”
He steps through without a word. He walks out the door and out of my life.
It’s over.
The next day at work I head straight to HR to request a transfer. When I arrive, Paige doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
“Hey there,” she calls out cheerily. “Mr. Lancaster sent you down bright and early. Did he already tell you about the change?”
“Change?” I manage to squeak.
“He called this morning and said with the opening coming up, marketing is in need of your help. I’m supposed to get you transferred to Alyssa’s department.”
My stomach drops. This is better. I know it is, but it doesn’t hurt any less. He’s truly getting rid of me.
“Sounds good,” is all I can manage. I don’t want to give myself away, but it’s taking everything to hold it together.
We spend the next thirty minutes going through paperwork and the logistics of the ch
ange. Paige escorts me to the marketing department, which is unnecessary since I’ve worked on and off with Alyssa over the past several weeks. But it’s nice having her company.
“Well, here you go. I think you’ll love working with Alyssa in a broader capacity.”
I smile at Paige, not wanting to dampen her excitement. Truth is, she’s right. Marketing is more my thing and getting experience in different areas of The L can only help my résumé.
“Thanks, Paige.”
She smiles. “Oh, hey. Would you want to grab drinks sometime with a couple friends of mine?”
The thought of going out doesn’t sit well with me. All I want to do is work and crawl in bed and shut out the world, but it’s not what’s best for me. I need to live. I’m young and I need to mingle with people my age. “Sure.”
Paige squeals and walks away, leaving me chuckling at her retreating back.
I walk up to Alyssa’s desk. It’s trashed with loads of papers spread everywhere. They could use all hands on deck in the marketing department, that’s for sure. Alyssa looks as if she could pull out her hair.
“Can you believe it’s only a week away?” she asks, not looking up from whatever it is she’s doing. “I’m freaking. There’s so much to be done.” Her eyes meet mine and I see a bit of panic in her dark blue irises. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be here. We’ve got this, don’t worry.”
She sighs. “I feel confident about it. I’m so happy Mr. Lancaster lent you to us.”
The reminder sends a pang to my stomach. He did the right thing. We need space and this opening deserves all of our full attention. As much as it hurts, it was the right move.
“Maybe I can finish out my time here,” I reply.
“Oh, that’s the plan.” She smiles. “He gave the okay for it this morning.”
I don’t respond, but I feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment. How could he not have prepared me for all of this? It’s a kick in the gut, and the feeling of being unwanted circulates through me without permission. This hurts horrifically.
I could call him out on it. I could demand he speak to me directly, but I won’t. My fucking pride, as usual, pushes me forward. Not backward, never backward.
“Is there anything you need from me right now? I need to use the restroom,” I respond, needing air.
“Nope. You’re good. When you get back, we can talk about ads.”
“Yay.” I force an awkward laugh, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
I push through the door and almost collide with Chelsea. Her lip curls into a wicked smile.
“Miss Miller, I see you’ve been demoted. Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.” The jab goes straight to my heart, nearly plucking it out of my chest and throwing it on the floor between us.
I practically snarl but know better than to say a word to the viper. It won’t do me any good, and right now I have a career that takes priority over getting into a pissing match with the she-devil.
I quickly brush past her and rush to the nearest exit. When I get into the fresh air, I breathe deeply, willing my lungs to open and take in the fresh air . . . and wipe away the toxins of Chelsea. After several minutes of heavy breathing, I calm down and force myself back to work. There’s a grand opening happening soon and I need to shine.
It’s been days of working in the marketing department and I’m finally settling into a routine. Being transferred has been a godsend. I haven’t seen Grant since he left my place and I want to keep it that way for as long as I can.
Paige invited me to lunch with her today and I happily obliged. We’ve been hanging out on our lunch breaks and I’ve really grown to like her. I act the same. I look the same. I talk the same.
I am not the same.
Grant changed something in me. Something fundamental, yet subtle. Being away from him is pure torture, but I know it is for the best.
“Okay, so you need to meet this friend of Jared’s. His name is Ryan and you two would be so super cute together.”
I groan. “I’m not really on the market.”
“You’re seeing someone?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No. I just don’t need to get tied down with anyone right now. I want to focus on landing a job.”
“Fine. You don’t have to double-date, but could you come hang out with us? We’re all going to dinner tonight, and I really don’t want Ry to feel like a third wheel. He always does and I’m starting to feel bad.”
I purse my lips at my new friend. “Sounds an awful lot like a date.”
“No matchmaking . . . promise.” She lifts her fingers in the Girl Scout salute, which makes me laugh.
“Fine. I’m in.”
I’m laughing at Paige’s excitement when I lift my head and my gaze collides with Grant’s. My smile instantly fades as he walks by our table without even muttering a hello. Paige doesn’t notice and just continues.
“You’ll love him. I swear he’s great. We can all meet beforehand at my place for a couple of drinks.”
“Sounds nice. I’m looking forward to it,” I lie.
The rest of lunch we discuss our plans, her job, and she gushes on Jared. It’s cute that they’re hooking up. They’re both great people, so it makes sense. When our time is up, we agree on a time to meet tonight and say our goodbyes.
I’m walking toward the women’s restroom when Grant comes strolling out of a door in front of me. Without an escape and to not seem childish, I say hello.
“Hi, Bridget. You look well,” he responds. I move to walk around him when he grabs me by the arm. “How are things in the marketing department?”
“Fine, but I really need to get back there. I’m running late from lunch.” I try to pull myself out of his grasp when he tightens his grip.
“So, you’re going out tonight?” His lips are pulled down into a frown. He looks . . . hurt.
“How do you know that?”
“I overheard you.”
For as large as this hotel is, it feels really damn small at times.
“You were listening to our conversation?” I ask, appalled.
His head shakes back and forth. “I heard you, but not because I was eavesdropping.”
My eyes roll. He damn well knows he was listening in on me. The fact he’s even trying to deny it is ridiculous. We’re adults. He needs to act like one. We’re in this position because of the secrets he kept.
“Either way, I don’t find it any of your business.” I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm.
“Just answer my question, Bridget. Are you or aren’t you?” I’m surprised by Grant’s tone. He sounds jealous and angry. Two things he has no right to be.
“Yes, I am.” I purse my lips in defiance, standing my ground and looking him directly in the eye.
“Is that really a good idea?”
I bark a laugh, but I’m not at all amused. “It’s exactly what I need right now, so yes, it’s a good idea.” I try not to sound petty but fail miserably. My body is on fire from his touch, yet I’m trying my hardest to feel unaffected and annoyed. I need to get away from him and fast. I don’t want him to know how hurt I am.
“It’s a little fast.”
I pull my arm out of his grasp, throwing my arms into the air in frustration. “What do you want from me?” I say harshly. “You chose this, so let it be.”
He steps back, starts to say something but shakes his head, changing his mind and ending the conversation with, “Have fun.”
I shake my head and watch as he walks away from me, again.
Jared’s friend Ryan is as good-looking as Jared. The two are very similar, both cute, flirty, and friendly. It’s a welcome surprise to find that not only am I attracted to someone, but I enjoy his company.
“So, what do you think of Ryan?” Paige asks when the guys head to the bar and we’re left alone.
“He’s great.”
“So, why do you seem so uninterested?”
“What? How?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t know. You’re not yourself tonight. I get the feeling you’re not that into him. Although, I must say, you’re probably making him want you more by being that way. I have a feeling Ryan is the sort of guy who’s used to girls falling at his feet.”
I laugh. “You’re probably right. He has that sort of charm about him, doesn’t he? I don’t know. I had a bad day at work and I’m a little out of it.”
“Forget about work. Just enjoy yourself.”
“I’m having a good time. I really like him, but I’m not rushing into anything because he’s charming. I’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay.” She shrugs as if she really doesn’t care either way.
“Tell me about you and Jared?” I ask in an attempt to change the conversation. Thankfully it works.
Paige grins. “We’re amazing.”
“I’m so happy for you. He’s a great guy. I totally approve.”
The combination of Paige, aka Jessica Rabbit, and Jared equals one hell of a power couple in the looks department. Add to it their stellar personalities, and it’s a match made in heaven.
“Look at them, they’re trying so hard to look manly in front of us and here we are finishing our cocktails and barely looking at them,” Paige says with affection. “The bartender is definitely favoring the female clientele. At this rate, they’ll never get us another round.” She chuckles. “Come on, let’s join them at the bar.”
My phone vibrates in my purse and I grab it out to see a text from Grant. Taking a deep breath, I open it up.
Grant: Be safe.
That’s all he wrote. There’s a war going on in my head. One side is pissed that he’s inserting himself into a space he has no business being. I’m a big girl. This is my time. I’m trying to move on and he’s making it impossible. The other side is soaring at the fact he cares and is concerned about me.
I shove my phone back in my purse, refusing to deal with Grant. Fuck him. He chose this. We spend the rest of the evening drinking and laughing. Every now and again my mind turns back to Grant and sadness bubbles up inside me that I never experienced before with anyone. There’s something about Grant that pulls me toward him, but I can’t allow my mind to go down that path. I try a bit harder with Ryan.