by M. Malone
“Not really but I don’t want him to know that.”
Anya is quiet for a moment. “Men suck.”
Her words manage to get a laugh out of me when I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, so I guess that’s something. “Yeah. Look, can you do me a favor and get my handbag from my office? I need to get out of here and I really don’t want to see him.”
I hear the sound of the stall door being unlocked. “Of course. In fact, on the way back I’ll remind James that he meant to ask Milo about the Adler account. That way he’ll be busy and you can sneak out.”
“You’re saving my life right now.”
“We girls have to stick together. Believe me I’ve been there.”
Five minutes later, the bathroom door opens. I unlock my stall and peer out. Anya hands me my bag with a smile. “They’re in James’s office now. Go. I’ll tell James that you had female problems. He’ll be too traumatized to ask any questions. Trust me. It works every time.”
I thank her again and then rush out. Fate does me a solid because when I check Uber, there’s a car right around the corner. By the time I get downstairs, the car is pulling up.
Right now I just need to be alone so I can think. And grieve. The last few weeks have felt like an awakening of sorts. It was about so much more than just the job. I felt like I found a comfort zone between Mya, the professional and Mya, the woman. Moving on from the baggage of my last relationship, I learned a lot about what I want in a man. Who I want to be. But now I’m left to wonder what it all means.
I’m in love with him. And for him, this has all been a game.
Damn. Maybe I haven't learned as much as I thought.
There are no lights in the windows of our apartment when we pull up. I can’t remember if Ariana was on shift today but I can only hope she’s not there. This is definitely a situation that calls for a bit of a pity cry. Alone. I say goodbye to the Uber driver, promising to give her five stars. I’m turning my key in the front door when a shadow moves to my right.
“What the hell?” I shriek and drop my keys in surprise.
“Whoa! It’s me! Mya, baby it’s me.”
Even though my heart is still in my throat, I calm slightly when I recognize Will’s voice. “Will? What are you doing in my hallway?”
“Just wanted to check on you. After those texts you sent last night I had to see you.” He smiles and I’m reminded of how cute he is. He’s still wearing his suit so I know he came straight from work. He’s always reminded me of the actor Will Smith, tall, lanky and a little goofy. We used to joke that they were long-lost brothers since they shared similar looks and the same nickname.
Then his words register. Last night?
At the look on my face his grin falters. “You don’t remember texting me last night?”
Eyeing him warily, I pull my phone out of my bag and hit the icon for texts. Before going to bed, I’d texted Ariana a playful “Missing you!” along with a kissy face emoji.
Turns out I was messaging Will.
“That was meant for Ariana, actually.”
His face falls. “When I saw that, I figured it meant you were thinking about me too. You know, since yesterday…”
It dawns on me that yesterday would have been our wedding date. No wonder Will thought the message was meant for him. If things had gone according to plan, we would be on our honeymoon right now.
“I didn’t even realize the date. Sorry about that.” I’m just glad it wasn’t something worse. Some of the messages Ari and I send back and forth don’t ever need to see the light of day. “At least I wasn’t drunk dialing like Ari was when we got margaritas a few weeks ago.”
“Margaritas?” Now he sounds intrigued. “You’ve never been much of a drinker.”
“Well, things change. We went out drinking at this new tapas bar and it was a blast. Apparently I danced on the bar.”
He shakes his head slightly. “I can’t even imagine that. But I guess that means you had fun. That’s good. You sound happy.”
For the first time since we broke up, I’m not reading subtext into what he’s saying or assuming that he has an ulterior motive. I’m just taking his words at face value.
Because you don’t care what he thinks, I realize. It’s a liberating thought after so many years using his words and opinions as the litmus for how I lived my life. Now whether he approves or not has no effect on me. I’m secure in the knowledge that the people who really care about me aren’t judging me or waiting for me to make mistakes so they can rub my face in it.
With a little distance, I can also admit that maybe Will wasn’t trying to do that either. He has his share of flaws just like anyone else but he’s not the monster I’d built him up to be after the breakup.
Maybe it’s possible that Will and I are both good people, just not good for each other. And that’s completely okay.
“I am happy,” I finally respond. And it’s true. Despite what happened today, I feel pretty damn good about how my life is going right now. Things might be over with Milo but I’m not going to let that take away from everything else I’ve achieved. I have a great family, a best friend and roomie who would do anything for me and I have ice cream in my freezer.
Hey, I’m trying to look at the bright side here.
Will rubs the back of his neck. “When I saw your text, I thought it meant that you were ready to talk. You never responded to the flowers or returned any of my calls before so…”
Now I kind of feel like a bitch. “I wasn’t ready to talk then.”
“I deserve that after the way I ended things. I’m sorry, Mya. I think I just got scared. Marriage seems like such a big step.”
“It is a big step. Maybe it’s better that you called it off when you did.”
His eyes meet mine, searching. “But that’s just it. Things aren’t better. I miss you. I miss talking to you. I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime. Or drinks, if that’s your thing now. ”
My heart thumps and then starts racing. Just a few months ago, hearing that Will missed me would have been the highlight of my day. All I’d wanted was for him to say that leaving was a mistake and that all our years together meant more to him than just settling for what was comfortable. But now that the moment is here, I can’t dredge up anything other than emptiness.
“Will, I’m glad that you apologized. What you did hurt me and I think clearing the air is a good thing. I don’t want to look back on our time together with regret.”
“I don’t either! I just want things to go back to the way they used to be.” Will takes my hand and squeezes it. That used to be our thing, our secret signal to say we loved each other even when we were in a crowded room.
But now that gesture feels empty. Hollow, just like this conversation. It feels disloyal to be squeezing hands with him when I know that my heart isn’t in it.
“Things have been over between us for six months. That’s a long time. I’ve moved on. You should too.”
He looks like he wants to argue but then he slowly lets go of my hand. ”I guess I figured things out too late, huh?”
“Yeah, you did.” I can’t deny it feels good to get that little dig in. I’m only human, let me have that one. “We weren’t meant to be, Will. I deserve someone who wants the woman I am, not who he thinks I should be. And so do you. Go out there and find that for yourself. Everyone deserves that.”
We were together for a long time, so it feels strange to know this is likely the last time we’ll ever see each other. I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.
Then I go in my apartment to find my ice cream. And to figure out how to take my own advice.
21
Regret is a powerful drug.
Over the past two days I’ve played out every possible scenario that could have occurred after Mya overheard me talking to Mr. Lavin.
I should have picked her up, thrown her over my shoulder and forced her to hear me out. I should have told Andre Lavin to back off my girl instead of being
diplomatic about it. I should have told James that the client was expressing personal interest in Mya and let him handle it.
Should have done doesn’t change what happened though. All the should haves in the world won’t make her talk to me.
I’ve called her so many times that I’m pretty sure a restraining order is forthcoming.
When I stopped by her place, I could hear the TV on in the background but no one would answer. I knocked on the door until an older woman stuck her head out into the hallway and gave me the evil eye.
Sometimes you have to know when to admit defeat.
Now I’m here at work getting absolutely nothing done while my co-workers tiptoe around me. Yeah, I’m in a shitty mood. And I’m not even bothering to hide it.
We’re not going to get the account and I’ll be lucky to still have a job once James finds out why.
My phone rings and I wince when I see James’s name pop up. I’ve been avoiding him all day. Guilt will do that to you. But if this is it, then I might as well face the music with dignity.
“Hey, James.”
“If you’ve got a second, can you stop by my office?”
“Sure. I’ll come now.”
Walking down the hallway, I start noticing things I’ve never paid attention to before. The paint is fading slightly. I remember when the color was changed from white to something called ecru, whatever the fuck that is. The carpet is still the same though.
Funny the things you notice when you’re on your way to be fired. I have the urge to yell out “Dead Man Walking” at everyone I pass.
When I get to James’s office, he motions for me to close the door.
“I’m not sure how to say this,” he begins.
“You don’t have to be delicate. Just lay it on me.” If I’m about to be sacked, I’d rather hear it upfront then after an hour of bullshit.
“Fine. Andre Lavin called me asking for Mya’s phone number. I gave it to him but I didn’t feel right about not saying something. I get the sense that he wasn’t interested in calling her about the campaign.”
My relief that I’m not fired immediately morphs into sick jealousy. The very thing I was trying to prevent when I started this whole thing in Vegas has happened anyway.
“He was interested from the moment he met her. I guess it was inevitable that he’d only wait so long.”
James looks disturbed. “I have to say, I’m surprised that you’re taking this so well. And I’m very surprised that Mr. Lavin would pursue her despite knowing that she’s already engaged.”
I can’t very well explain that Mr. Lavin is going after Mya because he knows our engagement is fake. If he hasn’t blown the whistle on us yet, then maybe he doesn’t plan to.
He probably doesn’t feel the need to. After tonight, he’ll have what he wants, Mya designing his campaign and warming his bed.
My hands clench into fists.
“Did he say anything else?”
James shakes his head. “Not to me. But Anya said he asked about good local restaurants before she transferred his call.”
After a minute passes and I’m still sitting there, James throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Why the hell are you still sitting here?”
It’s too hard to explain the whole thing when I can’t tell him the whole truth. So I settle for the most important part. “Maybe this is what Mya wants. A rich, handsome guy. Isn’t that what all women dream of?”
“I’m pretty sure Mya wants the man who actually cares about her. The one who’ll be there in good times and in bad.”
‘It’s too late. She won’t talk to me. I lied to her about something important and let’s face it, I didn’t exactly have a good track record to start with.”
James fixes me with a glare. “I may have failed at marriage but at least it taught me a little something about what not to do. Communication is key. Everything you just said to me, you need to say to her. Go fight for your girl! Maybe if I’d done that, my marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart.”
As he speaks, an energy grows until I’m too restless to sit. Mya changed something in me over the past few weeks. She brought out the best in me while teaching me that it’s okay to not be perfect. Maybe a rich guy is what she wants but maybe it isn’t.
And if there’s even a chance she wants me, I need to know.
I turn back to James. “What was the name of the restaurant Anya recommended?”
22
It turns out the time-of-the-month card is good for multiple days off from work. When I called in to check with James, he couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. Anya is a genius.
And I’m a wreck.
Taking my own advice is much easier said than done. Demanding the best is hard when your heart wants the thing you know is bad for it. My head is determined to hold on to my principles but my heart aches to answer the phone every time I see Milo’s name flash on the screen.
Which it’s doing right now. He really is unfairly handsome.
I push the phone away with a scowl. I don’t have time for handsome men and their excuses. I’m busy. There are Netflix shows I need to watch. Just me and my stress cow against the world. My fingers give Chelsea a comforting squeeze. Hey don’t judge, it really does make me feel better.
Ariana clears her throat.
Oh yeah, she’s here too.
“I’m going to say something that you aren’t going to like but just hear me out.” Her voice is muffled as she takes another spoonful of ice cream. She resisted binge eating with me on day one but even she only has but so much willpower.
The power of Chunky Monkey is incontrovertible.
“Just say it. I don’t really think anything you say could make this worse.”
When Ari has something she wants to say there’s no holding her back anyway, whether you grant her permission or not. Plus, I kind of do want an outside perspective on this.
“William was a twat.”
My mouth falls open. “Wait, what? I thought you liked him?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t dislike him. Or at least I didn’t until I noticed how he always put you down and never seemed to care about what you want. Everything was about him.”
“What does it matter now? We’ve broken up.” I hate that I’m feeling defensive about this. But somehow it feels like an attack, as if not seeing William’s true colors is a reflection of my bad judgment. Which maybe it is.
“Because I saw those roses you brought home a few weeks ago. Then you mentioned he came by yesterday. If there’s even a chance that you two might get back together, I want it on record that I think you can do way better. You deserve someone who knows how awesome you are, Mya. And you didn’t get excited when you talked about him. But you know who you did get excited about?”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t even say it. I don’t want that name in my mental space. This is supposed to be an asshole-free zone!” My hand clenches around Chelsea a few times.
“Jesus, stop squeezing that damn cow! It’s kind of turning me on and even I’m not that fucked up.” She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Look, I’m just saying you should talk to him. Give him a chance to explain. Because that kind of chemistry doesn’t come along every day.” Having said her piece, she rises gracefully, scooping up Oreo as she goes. Then she pauses.
“Also, whenever you and Will would fool around in your room, I’d always hear your vibrator after he left. You didn’t have that problem with Milo. Just saying.”
“Ari!” I slide down in my chair and put a throw pillow over my face.
Her laughter follows her out of the room. “No shame girl, I’m just saying you shouldn’t have to put up with a dude’s shit and still have to take care of yourself. What the hell is the point of that?”
After she’s gone I take the pillow off of my head and let out a sigh.
What the hell is the point?
Maybe I should at least hear him out. I would like to think that I’ve matured enough to know that things are not always
black and white. Sometimes two people can be in the exact same situation but see it differently. It’s possible Milo didn’t think he was being underhanded by talking to the client directly or that he was planning to tell me about it. Ugh.
Now I’m just rationalizing and trying to find a reason to forgive him. Good sex isn’t a reason to overlook lies and treachery. But we do work together and I can’t stay home eating Ben & Jerry’s forever. So I probably need to talk to him sooner rather than later. Better to have this confrontation outside of the office.
I pick up my phone and skim all the I’m sorry and Let me explain texts. Then I notice a call from an unfamiliar number. The same number left a voicemail.
Miss Taylor, this is Andre Lavin. I heard from Mr. Lawson that you’ve been under the weather and I’m sorry to hear that. But if possible, I would like to take you to dinner before I leave town. I’ll be dining at Les Printemps tonight at 8pm. Join me if you can.
My loud whoop brings Ari running. Her robe flaps open behind her as she bursts into the room, Oreo yipping at her heels.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
I struggle to my feet, sluggish after two days on the couch feeling sorry for myself. But I’m going to have to rally because this is my chance to explain my side of the story to Mr. Lavin. More than likely I’ll have to swallow my pride and grovel to make up for the lies we told in Vegas. But now that he’s seen my campaign, maybe he’s more inclined to forgive if it means getting a kickass launch for his new line.
“Andre Lavin wants to meet me for dinner. This is my chance. I have to convince him that Mirage can handle this account, despite everything that’s happened. Because if I don’t at least try to salvage this, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Ari nods along. “You’ve got this, girl. Put your big girl panties on and go get that account. Well, honestly any panties other than the ones you’re wearing. Because you’ve been on this couch for like two days straight.”