by Naima Simone
Almost.
Pivoting, he stalked toward the door. He was done. They—whatever they were, whatever they could’ve been—were done. He couldn’t open himself to the kind of agony Shalene had wreaked in his life before. Couldn’t risk trusting Sophia only to have her destroy him in a way his ex-girlfriend had tried but hadn’t accomplished. But Sophia. She could do it. Easily. The stirrings of that devastation clawed at his chest, and since he couldn’t trust himself around her, he couldn’t be around her.
“Zephirin,” she murmured. He didn’t turn around. Couldn’t look into that beautiful, deceitful face. “I love you.”
“Love me?” he repeated, the words tasting like dirt on his tongue. The pain of hearing the words he hadn’t even realized he’d craved until this moment tearing a hole inside him. “Love isn’t built on lies. It doesn’t purposefully deceive. I asked you for one thing, Sophia. One. Honesty. If you loved me, you would’ve given that to me.”
“And what about you?” she demanded. “You lied, too.”
Incredulous, he spun around, facing her. What the hell was she talking about?
“You asked me to share myself with you. The real Sophia. You told me to trust myself with you. Promised you wouldn’t reject me.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she continued on. “Here I am, Zephirin. Imperfect. Sometimes not as brave as I should be, but willing to look you in the face and admit it. Willing to lay myself out there, be naked with you. Tell you I love you. But nothing I say, nothing I do will be enough. If you’re honest, you would admit you’ve been waiting for me to fail, to prove you right so you could walk away without any risk, any sacrifice.”
She notched her chin up, stared into his eyes without flinching.
“Love isn’t built on lies? Love isn’t built on unforgiveness either. And I never stood a chance. No one will unless you let go of the past and stop holding everyone hostage to the low standard set by a self-centered, spiteful woman who couldn’t appreciate your heart when she had it. I’m not her. I could never be her. For one, I don’t even have your heart, and I cherish it. Would fight for it. But the one person I can’t battle is you.”
This time, instead of moving toward him, she stepped backward. Away from him.
“Good-bye, Zephirin.”
She didn’t wait for him to leave but turned and walked off, disappearing behind the partition and granting him what he’d wanted but now detested.
Leaving him alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday mornings sucked on principle, but when your body was riddled with pain, and every breath you took seemed edged with a razor, well, it sucked more than usual.
Dramatic much? Sophia sighed as she stepped into the elevator that would deposit her at her office floor. She wished she were being a drama queen, but God, she hurt. Ever since Saturday afternoon and the confrontation with Zephirin.
Confrontation. Such a benign word to describe the blow-up that had ripped her heart out of her body. Damn, why were all her metaphors so freaking…bloody?
Definitely showed her frame of mind.
Silently, she watched the numbers light up then darken, slowly counting down to her eminent arrival to FamFit and Brian. To the time she would have to paste a smile on her face and act like everything was hunky-dory. To the time she would have to pretend that not only had the man she loved rejected her but that she was perfectly okay with her boss screwing her over.
Yay.
Unbidden, a groan slipped from between her lips. She closed her eyes, grateful that, for once, no one else occupied the elevator. No one else was there to witness the misery and agony that had leveled her for the past two days.
Yes, she’d fucked up. And she’d always known Zephirin would be angry. But a part of her—that stubbornly, foolishly optimistic part that hadn’t been stamped out by four years of high school hell—had hoped he would listen to her. Understand the reasons why she’d lied and continued the charade. Forgive her. That part hadn’t expected him to be so hard, so…cold.
She shivered, again hearing the freezing whip of his voice when she’d admitted her love for him.
I asked you for one thing, Sophia. One. Honesty. If you loved me, you would’ve given that to me.
Jesus, that had hurt. A breath shuddered in and out of her lips.
In the time they’d spent together, she’d started to believe she could trust him with the real her. That he wouldn’t reject her but would accept her. He’d crushed that hope under his contempt. Crushed it to dust.
The steel doors slid open with a soft hiss. Inhaling, she stepped out, straightening her shoulders, bracing herself for the day. She passed the floor’s breakroom, and as she stepped into the space containing the labyrinth of cubicles, she nearly stumbled.
Trevor stood at the end of the hall, joking with two other guys from their department. Stubble dusted his jaw, and his rumpled clothes had probably been the first ones he’d picked up this morning off the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come in wrinkled and slightly hungover after a night of drinking. Yeah, maybe she was being unfair in her judgment, and this morning he just didn’t feel like ironing his polo and khakis.
But the fact that he’d been assigned to lead a project that had been her idea wasn’t fair either.
Suddenly, Giovanna’s words from Saturday swamped her head, echoing over and over.
Stop allowing other people to put you inside this confined, suffocating box and tell you what you’re capable of. When you let people define your world, it will always be too small for you.
Her heart lodged in her throat, thudding there. Though she’d emerged from high school, excelled in college, and had gotten a job in a field she loved, she’d still allowed the taunts and opinions of others from so long ago to define her. Dictate her worth. Convince her to settle.
Even with Zephirin, she’d allowed her fears of him not accepting and appreciating the real her keep her from telling him the truth. The other reasons—Giovanna’s job, his hatred of lies—they were all valid. But if she were honest with herself, lurking under those excuses was her own lack of confidence. Her own low image of herself.
And she’d allowed that same lack of self-esteem to quiet her at work.
Well, no more.
Striding past Trevor and his crew, she turned left at the corner instead of right toward her desk.
Seconds later, she stopped in front of Brian’s office. She didn’t give herself a chance to second guess her decision. Not when the sense that this was right clamored inside her like the freaking Liberty Bell.
Rapping on his door, she waited until Brian glanced up from his computer and acknowledged her presence.
A slight frown wrinkled his brow. “Good morning, Sophia.”
“Hi, Brian. Can I speak to you?”
“Actually, this isn’t a good time…”
He trailed off, and ordinarily, she would have taken the hint and left. But not today. “This will only take a few moments.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Fine. But that’s all I have. Come in.”
Gritting her teeth together against the condescending tone, she entered and closed the door behind her. His eyebrows arched at the action, but she didn’t explain until she sat across from him.
“I quit.” Well damn. Okay, she hadn’t meant to be that blunt. But since she had, she gave a mental shrug. Might as well go with it. “I hate to give you such short notice, and I appreciate the experience and opportunities that FamFit have given me, but I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”
He gaped at her, his lips parted, eyes unblinking. For once, his usual patronizing and arrogant expression was replaced by utter shock. Relief and a fierce joy raced through her. A heavy, crippling weight slid off her chest and shoulders. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she really, really liked herself. Forget that. Loved herself.
She fucking rocked.
“What—wait. Why…” he stuttered, before snapping his lips
closed and visibly gathering himself. He leaned forward, pinning her with a narrowed stare. “What are you talking about? You can’t just quit.”
“But I did,” she countered. And smiled.
“Is this about not receiving the project manager position? I thought we discussed why you weren’t ready for that responsibility—”
“No,” she interrupted. “You explained, and I let you get away with that ridiculous, bigoted, bullshit reason. We both know you never intended to give me that job. Just as you took credit for my past contributions and never treated me as an equal. I could never figure out if it was because I’m a woman or you just didn’t respect me as a person. Right now, it doesn’t matter because I no longer care. I don’t need your validation of how good I am. The fact that you shafted me three times is affirmation enough.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped, an unbecoming shade of red coloring his cheeks. A vein appeared at his temple, pulsing. “You’re too immature to understand—”
“Too immature. Too young. Too inexperienced. And I also have a vagina. All reasons you’ve used to disrespect and discriminate against me. And would continue to do if I stayed here. Which I’m not.” She stood, never breaking eye contact with him. “I’m going to clear my desk out now, before security is called to escort me out. Which I fully expect you to do.” Seeing as he was a petty asshole. “I’ll email my formal resignation.”
“If you think I’ll give you a recommendation, you’re deluding yourself. No one will hire you after this behavior,” he sneered, that careful composure he always seemed to exhibit gone to reveal the spiteful little bastard he’d always been.
If he expected that to intimidate her, put her back in her place, he’d obviously missed the memo. The one she’d just delivered stamped with a bright red Fuck You seal. She leaned forward and flattened her palms on his desk.
“You go right ahead,” she said, her voice calm, strong. “You start your little smear campaign against me because I dared to stand up for myself and demanded to be treated with the dignity and respect I deserve. Because the moment you do, I plan to respond with my own story. Of how you said I should just be patient and my time would come, while you took credit for my ideas. Of how I know for a fact I don’t get paid as much as the newest male hire. Of how FamFit prides itself on equal opportunity but really allows misogynistic, little men to get away with promoting other men in their company while expecting women to toe the line and wait their turn for recognition and the opportunities men are simply afforded because they have dicks. As a matter of fact, I’m begging you to try it. You think you can shut me up just because I’ve allowed you to do it for the last three years? I have breaking news for you, Brian. The media just adores a David and Goliath story. And that’s where I plan on waging this war. And let me tell you, the court of public opinion is a bitch.”
She straightened, giving him a broad smile.
“Now, you have a nice day.”
Not waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and strolled out of his office.
Goddamn, that had felt good.
Chapter Eighteen
Sweat rolled down Zephirin’s face and dripped off his body. His shoulders ached, the muscles in his back burned. And yet, he kept pounding his fist into the punching bag, relishing the vibration that sang up his arms with each impact. Craving the emptying of his mind, the punishment of his body. The punching bag wasn’t part of his daily workout routine, but since Saturday, nothing had been normal for him. And lifting weights, squats, and running on the treadmill hadn’t granted him the forgetfulness he sought. His mind insisted on thinking. On remembering.
It’d been five days since he’d walked out of Sophia’s—no, Giovanna’s—apartment. Five days since he’d broken his cardinal rule about heavy drinking while training and got shit-faced. The first of three nights, actually. He’d missed the first day of mini-camp, been fined sixty thousand dollars, and hadn’t been able to bring himself to care. Though he’d attended the last two days, his performance had been lackluster at best. Thank God no contact work had been involved because as hungover as he’d been, he could’ve hurt himself or someone else. He could just imagine what was being reported about him and his football readiness on ESPN and the other sports networks. Nothing flattering.
Dom and Ronin had questioned him, then railed at him to get his head out of his ass, to get his shit together. But he couldn’t even speak to his friends about the pain that seemed firmly entrenched in his skin, his bones, his very fucking tissue. Couldn’t explain the loneliness that crouched inside, waiting for him to close his eyes at night before it sprang and ripped at him. Couldn’t voice the anger at himself for letting himself get to this point again. No, not again.
For some inexplicable reason, this pain ran a little deeper. His chest hadn’t felt flayed with every drag of breath after he and Shalene had ended their relationship. Hell, he didn’t even know if what he and Sophia had could even be called a relationship. He hadn’t expected anything to hurt worse than that day in his attorney’s office hearing the results of the paternity test. And yet, it did. It could be because his pride had taken another hit at having been played for a fool twice. Or it could be attributed to that he should’ve known, should’ve been wiser, but he’d still fallen for the lies with his eyes wide open.
Or maybe it just could be the woman.
The woman had made him excuse the signs he’d sensed so he could have her. So he could touch her a little longer. So he could spend another moment in her presence.
He delivered another punishing blow to the bag, sending it swinging madly on the chain. He’d convinced himself if he hit long enough, hard enough, he could numb his mind along with his body. He could erase those final words spoken in a broken voice from his head: Good-bye, Zephirin.
They replayed in an endless loop, and soon his blows matched the rhythm of it. Good-bye, Zephirin. Good-byeZephirin. GoodbyeZephiringoodbyeZephirin. His fists flew over and over until the heavy bag danced and the chain jangled.
Eventually, the loud peal of Drake’s “Look What You’ve Done” penetrated the white noise roaring in his ears. He lowered his arms to his side, his chest heaving up and down on his harsh breaths. He didn’t need a glance at the cell phone’s screen to identify the caller. He’d assigned only one person that ringtone. And as much as he didn’t want to talk to anyone, he’d never avoid a call from Josephine Black.
He strode over to the weight bench that he’d tossed the phone on earlier and picked it up, swiping a thumb across the screen.
“Hey, Mama,” he greeted, sinking down to the bench. He called his grandmother Mama, not grandma or granny. She’d been his mother most of his life, had given him the stability and family his mother had run away from.
“Hey, Boo,” his grandmother replied in the lyrical, deep voice that once boomed down their childhood street, calling him and his sister home before the streetlights came on. In spite of the boulder-sized weight crushing his shoulders and pressing down on his chest, warmth spread through him at the use of her nickname for him. The first time Dom and Ronin had heard his grandmother call him the childhood name, they’d crowed with laughter and teased him mercilessly for months. Bastards. “I haven’t talked to you in a few days. Since you seem to have forgotten how to dial my number, I thought I’d give it a try.”
“I’ve just been busy the past few days with mini-camp. I’m sorry about that.”
She snorted, apparently not buying his excuse. Not that he believed she would. His grandmother could smell bullshit like a sommelier with wine. “Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Who you think you talkin’ to, Zephirin Black?” Oh damn. She’d used his given name. He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now talk to your mama. What’s going on? And don’t tell me work or nothin’. I know better.”
Sighing, Zephirin scrubbed a hand over his head. Talking about his love life to his grandmother ranked up there with having a Brazilian on his balls, but she wasn’t going to let it go unti
l he spilled everything. A pit bull had nothing on Josephine Black. “Remember that shoot for the sports magazine I told you about a couple of weeks ago?”
For the next ten minutes, he spoke nonstop, sharing everything with his grandmother about meeting and becoming involved with Sophia Cruz. Well…not everything. If talking about his love life with her was akin to having his balls shaved, talking about sex would be like having them chopped off.
After he finished, silence answered him. If not for the sound of Wheel of Fortune echoing across the line, he might’ve thought she had hung up. Finally, a heavy sigh reached him. “I’m sorry, Zephirin. You know I hate that you’re hurting. And don’t bother trying to deny it, I don’t need to be in front of you to know that you are.”
He swallowed the denial that had been on the tip of his tongue.
“I never told you this, but I worried so much when you left for college. I can’t count how many nights I lay in bed, praying for you,” she continued, leaving him shocked by her admission. “You were an itty-bitty thing when your mama left, and even then you tried so hard to be the man of the house. You didn’t cry, never said a bad thing about your mama even though God knows she would’ve deserved every insult. God forgive me for saying that since she’s my daughter, but it’s the truth.” He could imagine his grandmother shaking her head, her long salt-and-pepper hair swinging against her shoulders. “Maybe because she left, you always loved hard. Always tried to protect the people in your life and hold on to them, even when you should’ve let go.” Another sigh. “Too many times you led with your heart instead of wisdom, and I wanted to grab you and shake you. But you were a grown man, so all I could do was pray—pray that you would find someone who would want to take care of you for once. Someone who put your heart and welfare before their own. As much as I love Shalene, she wasn’t that person, and I knew it. When everything went to hell with her, I blamed myself for not speaking up.”