Mondays (The Wait Book 2)

by Harper Bentley

  I hated that she hated me.

  Because I still loved her.

  On top of not being able to focus on work, every so often I found myself getting up from my desk to look and see if she was still in the boardroom. Then trying to make my watching her not so obvious, I moved my trashcan closer to the door so I had a reason to get up, maybe take a little lackadaisical gander in her direction unconcernedly. Soon after, there was needing a drink at the water fountain in the lobby numerous times as well as acting like I had to piss almost a half a dozen times. Jesus. Hashtag stalker, anyone?

  Twice Birdie had walked by my office, I assumed on her way to—then from—the ladies’ room, and I’d actually been busy but had peered up in time to see her passing. Both times she didn’t spare me the least little glance.

  A minute before five, I resolved to at least tell her goodbye, but when I pulled on my wool overcoat and walked out of my office heading toward the boardroom, I saw the company’s CFO, Joel Gaines, was inside talking to her. When they shared a laugh, I frowned. Joel was a pretty good guy as far as I could tell, but he was a bit flirty with the ladies in the office, despite his being married to Yasmine, who was a total knockout. Then again, Yasmine was quite the flirt herself, having bantered playfully with me on several occasions, which I’d taken as her just being friendly. Then it dawned on me. Fuck! Did they have an open marriage? Was Joel trying to seduce Birdie? And was she flirting right back?

  At this thought, I picked up my pace to the boardroom and stepped inside ready to kick his ass. He had ten years on me and was still pretty fit, but I knew I could take him.

  Putting his hand on my very tense shoulder, Joel said, “Beck! How’s everything going? Did you get the numbers on the Valdaxamil adjusted?” I turned my murderous glare—which I hadn’t realized I’d been sporting—from Birdie to Joel who was giving me his million-dollar smile. “And have you met Ms. Chapman? I was just telling her that Yasmine has the same pair of shoes.”

  Well, shit. He wasn’t hitting on Birdie. He’d just been making small talk. Blood pressure back to normal, I cleared my throat and nodded, my demeanor now changing from I’ll-kill-this-motherfucker mode to composed business coolheadedness. “Hey, Joel. Yes, the report is adjusted.” I looked at Birdie. “And, yes, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Chapman.”

  She narrowed her eyes, totally onto me and what I’d had in mind when I’d entered the boardroom.

  When I noticed that she had her overcoat on, purse on her arm and was ready to go, I asked, “Can I walk you out?”

  Who was brandishing the murderous glare now? I snorted as I saw her grit her teeth and clip out a, “Sure.”

  “See you two in the morning,” Joel said as he held the door open for us to exit.

  “Good night,” “’Night,” Birdie and I answered at the same time as we left.

  At the elevator, she stood stick straight facing forward, both hands in front holding her purse by the strap.

  “So, how’ve you been?” I asked and got a huffed-out breath in reply. Inside the elevator, on which three other people rode, I watched as she put her purse strap on her shoulder then I leaned down but just a little because at five-foot-ten, with her heels, she was almost my height of six-four, and trying again, I said quietly, “Have you been okay?”

  She slowly turned her head toward me, looking up at me as if I were the world’s biggest imbecile. “We haven’t talked in over two years.” She faced the front again and shook her head, looking annoyed as hell.

  I gave it another go. “I know, but I never stopped thinking about you.”

  There was a ding when we reached the lobby then the doors opened. The other occupants disembarked first before Birdie took a step forward to get out as four people were waiting to get on. When I started to follow, she suddenly turned and slapped her palm against my chest.

  “You don’t get to say shit like that!” she snapped, her eyes sparking in anger as she looked up at me. “You left me!” she hissed, pointing a finger in my face with her other hand. “You walked out on me! And you lied to me!”

  “Birdie, I’m sor—”

  She shoved as hard as she could with her palm making me take a step back inside the elevator since I hadn’t been prepared for it, and a guy waiting to get on stepped forward putting a hand on one of the doors to keep them from shutting. Then through clenched teeth, her eyes blazing, and keeping her voice scary low, Birdie proclaimed, “You can take your ‘sorry’ and go to fucking hell.”

  I watched as she turned and walked through the lobby toward the exit, her heels clicking harshly on the tile floor.

  “Damn,” the guy holding the door muttered.

  I turned toward him and scowled then stepping out of the elevator made my way toward the exit, mumbling to myself, “Fucking Mondays.”

  Chapter 7—Birdie

  “Can you fucking believe it?” I yelled into my phone from the back seat of the cab I’d caught.

  “That’s crazy,” Jaden answered.

  I let out a huff. “It’s been over two years since we fucking talked and he wants to know how I’ve been? Is he fucking insane?”

  “That’s a lot of fucks, B. Come over before you have no more to give.” She chuckled at her dumb joke. When I didn’t answer, she offered, “Evan made chili, and you know he always makes it in that huge pot so we have leftovers for the next seven years. Come eat some and make it only six. Also, you don’t need to be alone right now because all you’ll do is stew. And I wanna stew with you. Damn. I wish he’d made stew ‘cause that would’ve been funnier.”

  Despite my shitty mood I snorted. “You’re such a goof. But I don’t know, J. I’m still in my work clothes and I wanna get comfortable.”

  “Like you don’t have clothes over here. Come on. You can gripe Evan out for setting you up with Cro-Magnon Man.” She giggled which made me giggle too.

  “God, I love you. Shittiest day of the year so far and you have me laughing.”

  “Not bad. You made it two days into the new year before it got shitty. It’s a record!”

  “Things can only get better,” I mumbled.

  “There’s my cup-half-full girl!” she quipped making me roll my eyes. “I’ll go find a pair of your jeans and maybe a sweater. If not, you can wear one of mine. See you in a bit!”

  We hung up and I thanked God once again for my best friend. If it hadn’t been for her, the way the last two years had gone for me, I’d probably have been institutionalized by now.

  “Then he claimed he never stopped thinking of me. Ugh!” I groused.

  Jaden shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t.”

  I cut my eyes at her from where I sat on the couch. “Uh huh.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve forgiven him and that’s all that matters.”

  She stretched in the chaise lounge, her arms extending above her head, then looked at me questioningly. “No, what matters is…do you still love him?”

  I sat thinking for a moment before answering. “I don’t know him. It’s been over two years, you know? And,” I canted my head toward her raising my eyebrows to get her attention so she’d hear me, “listen to me carefully before you try to push me to do something—he’s married. I saw the ring on his finger today.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he’s happily married,” she pointed out.

  “Jesus H. Seriously? Why’d Evan have to go to bed? He was on my side!”

  “I’m on your side! But two years is a long time. Maybe Beck’s unhappy.”

  “Yeah, well, the ring on his finger says different.” I got up and took my wine glass to the kitchen.

  Jaden followed me stating, “Well, I say don’t make any snap judgments.”

  “Put yourself in my place. What would you do?” I asked as I rinsed out my glass.

  She shrugged when I looked back at her. “If I still cared about him, I’d hear him out.”

  I spun to face her, throwing my hands up. “And what good would that do? Huh? Except bring me mo
re pain!” I was so exasperated with this whole conversation and now dropped my head into my hands as I started to cry, wishing I’d never met Beck Griffin.

  “Aw, sweetie, don’t cry.” Jaden came over and took my hands from my face then wrapped her arms around me. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I pulled back a little and as she was almost my height, rested my forehead on her shoulder. “I’d just gotten over him, too,” I whispered through my tears.

  “I know. I’ve been so proud of how brave you’ve been through everything.” She smoothed my hair down my back with her hand. “But you know I believe in signs. And out of all the places you could’ve gotten a job, it happened to be at his company! I think you have unfinished business with him.” I pulled back and looked at her. She moved her hands to hold me by my upper arms and nodded. “And if all it is, is for him to finally properly apologize to you, then there you go. I mean, it’ll give you some closure, right?”

  I nodded back as she dropped her hands. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. You’re right. He probably just wants to apologize. Yeah.” I ran my fingers underneath my eyes and sniffled a few times. “Thanks, J.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same for me.”

  Of course, I would. Jaden had been through so much with me, and she knew how to make me think clearly instead of letting my emotions get the best of me. Well, she usually let me get my emotions out before talking some sense into me because she knew I’d listen better.

  “God. You know me so well,” I declared.

  “It’s my job as your best friend. I know to let you get it all out before guiding you in the right direction; whereas, you tell me what’s up at the beginning then let me rant and rave and stomp around throwing a tantrum until I finally realize you’re right.” She chuckled.

  I let out a laugh. “Oh, no. We have each other figured out. Now it’s gonna get boring.”

  “Us? Boring? Never!” she scoffed.

  I hugged her goodnight and took a cab home. Back at my apartment, just before falling asleep, I assured myself everything would be okay. Beck would apologize then we’d be fine. I’d finish up my job at Fleishman and never see him again.

  I slept fitfully and dreamed, for what seemed like all night, that Mason was calling my name, but as I ran through a huge maze of red rose bushes, the thorns pricking and cutting my body, I couldn’t find him.

  I was crying when I awoke the next morning.

  Chapter 8—Beck

  By the time I got home after having watched Birdie stomp away from the elevator, my mood was most definitely in the shitter.

  And now I had to talk with Sonya about the disso-fucking-lution of our marriage.

  Walking into the apartment, I saw her sitting at the dining table ready to discuss things. Great. I took off my coat, hung it on the coatrack then went to sit across from her.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  I stared at her.

  She bit her lip. “How was work?”

  I continued staring wondering how things had gotten so bad for us.

  From the moment I first saw Sonya, I’d been enamored, had practically fallen in love that very moment, despite the fact that she hadn’t been anything I ever thought I wanted which had made no damned sense. But I fell hard and two months into our relationship asked her to marry me. She’d said yes and I’d been on top of the world, so fucking happy.

  Our first year had been great. We’d traveled some, moved to New York City for my job then she’d graduated college and become a social worker.

  Then a year and a half into our marriage, I’d seen her snorting cocaine in a bathroom at a club and after that, all kinds of secrets had come out.

  I realized now I really didn’t know the woman sitting across from me.

  “Um, are you hungry? I could fix you something,” she offered to my silent stare.

  “I’m good,” I answered.

  She let out a sigh and fidgeted with the edge of the placemat in front of her, looking down at it apparently as at a loss for words as I was.

  Welcome to the Griffins’! Aren’t we just a shit ton of fun!

  Then she looked up. “I want a divorce.”

  She may have been the one with heart problems, but that statement coming from her mouth made me feel like it was I who did.

  Fuck.

  We sat in more silence, me still staring at her while she seemingly tried unraveling the goddamned placemat.

  “Tell me why,” I finally managed to say.

  She looked up at me with remorseful guilt. Yeah, I made that shit up but it’s what I saw in her eyes.

  “I—I’m in love with someone else.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I waited for more details.

  “We met…we met when I was in the hospital.”

  And still I waited. She was the one ending this. She needed to be the one who fucking talked.

  “He works there.”

  Jesus. So in between waiting for a fucking heart and trying not to fucking die, she still found time to fall in fucking love with someone else.

  The irony was not wasted on me.

  Fuck!

  But still I waited.

  “He—he came in one day when you were there.”

  That got my attention. “Who?”

  She now twisted her fingers nervously, and looking down at them confessed, “Grant. He was my EKG technician.”

  Squinting even harder at her, I tried remembering who this Grant the EKG Technician was. There’d been so many doctors and surgeons and nurses and others who’d worked on her during her stay it was hard to keep up with them all. Then it hit me.

  He’d been the guy who’d come in after I’d found Birdie in the stairwell crying and had comforted her. The guy Sonya had smiled at so sweetly which had pissed me off since she hadn’t looked at me that way in a long time. She’d primped for the bastard, smoothing her hair with her hands, trying to make herself more presentable to him.

  I felt my hands curl into fists where they rested on my thighs as my blood began to boil. “How long?”

  “What?”

  “How fucking long!” I shouted, making her jump, and was reminded of a similar scene where I’d yelled at her when I’d found out she’d been screwing men for drugs.

  She started crying. “We—we’ve kind of been seeing each other since that day,” she croaked.

  I brought my fists up to my temples and pushed in because I thought my head was going to explode.

  Sobbing, she whimpered, “I—I’m s-sorry, Beck.”

  I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re sorry.” It wasn’t fair, but I now looked at her as if she were the lowest form of being on the face of the planet. “This entire fucking time, all I’ve done is try to do the right thing.” My head went down and I massaged my temples now with my thumb and finger of my hand.

  It was her turn to emit an amused laugh. I glanced up to see her scowling hatefully at me. “While you’ve been in love with someone else.”

  Touché.

  “At least I fucking tried with us.” I glared at her viciously.

  She let out an annoyed sound and semi rolled her eyes. “Sure, Beck.”

  “And I damned sure wasn’t fucking her,” I countered cruelly. Her flinch made me glad that I’d wounded her. But my claim woke me up and I was suddenly furious. No wonder Sonya hadn’t slept with me in over two goddamned years; she’d been sleeping with Tech Guy. Placing my hands on the table, I asked, “You fucking him?” She had the nerve to look hurt that I’d asked that, which really pissed me the hell off. Pushing down on the table with my hands, I stood quickly, toppling my chair as I did and bellowed, “Are. You. Fucking. Him!”

  And suddenly shit got worse—or better depending on how you look at it—because good ol’ Grant the EKG Technician came storming into the kitchen.

  “Stop yelling at her!” he growled, coming straight at me, fists swinging.

  I blocked his punch with
one arm and landed my own squarely on his jaw knocking him the fuck out. Asshole went down like a sack of potatoes and Sonya screamed, coming out of her chair to kneel by his side hollering his name.

  Jesus Christ.

  Shaking my fist out, I walked calmly to our bedroom, grabbed a duffle bag and packed a few things before making my way into our bathroom and doing the same.

  Our.

  This was the last time any of it would ever be ours again.

  And somehow, after walking back into the living room, pulling my coat on, and seeing Tech Guy sitting woozily on the floor just before he puked everywhere, I was okay with that.

  Chapter 9—Birdie

  “Good morning, everyone! It’s Tuesday, January 3, at 8:35 in the a.m. and welcome to another episode of Random Thoughts Inside Birdie Chapman’s Ridiculous Head!” I thought to myself then took another sip of coffee.

  I imagined an “Applause” sign flashing to cue the audience, a set director counting down, “Five, four, three,” then not speaking but flashing two fingers then one, then pointing at me letting me know I was on the air.

  Huh. That was new. My brain was now hosting its own morning show.

  I rolled my eyes even as the show, er, thoughts kept rolling.

  No sign of Beck today, Birdie. Nothing. Nada.

  Maybe he’s not coming in today, Birdie. Maybe he’s sick. Or maybe he had a wild romp in the sack with Wifey last night and decided to keep it going.

  Wow. I was even cohosting with myself. Goody.

  Yuck. I think I just threw up a little in my mouth envisioning the romp.

  Think of cute little puppies to get it out of your head!

  Okay. Puppies. Puppies. Puppies. Yes! All cute and bark-y and yippy!

  But really, where is he?

  That’s enough. Just stop thinking about him.

  Well, you stop looking over your shoulder at his office to see if his light is on.

  You stop it.

  No, you stop it.