Not the man I fell hard for.
No, he’s my boss now, and he’ll stay my boss until he decides to change that.
I spent the rest of Saturday night crying myself into the wee hours of the night until I finally fell asleep, only to wake up to around ten to twenty more texts from Rath and a severed heart. I turned my phone off, and went back to bed, promising myself I would take one more day, and then I’d get my life back together. Again.
By no means do I feel powerful or ready to take on the world today, despite wearing my favorite trousers and blouse. I feel ill, like I could throw up any minute. My mind is whirling with what he might say to me, and I’m terrified that with one look in my direction my shield will snap in half and I’ll be exposed to him once again.
But I will not falter in my everyday life. I will keep moving forward and do my job like a professional, because that’s what I am.
The elevator dings and my breath catches in my chest.
He’s here.
I stand tall, hold my notebook close to my chest and pray that I can keep it together while in his presence, despite the emotions gnawing away at my resolve.
The doors part and a disheveled Rath steps off the elevator. His hair is a mess, his clothes are askew, and he looks like he slept in his suit rather than got ready this morning with precision like I’ve seen him do many mornings.
He doesn’t see me at first, so I say, “Good morning, Mr. Westin.”
His head snaps up and I get the first look at his bloodshot and sunken eyes. Oh God, he looks positively awful. Was I wrong with what I said this weekend?
No, he even said that his intentions were anything but pure. He’s probably just distraught that he got caught.
“Charlee,” he says on an exhale. “You’re here.”
“Of course, I’m here. This is my job, after all.” I hold my hand out. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take my list now and let you get on with your morning. There’s oatmeal waiting for you.”
“Fuck the list and get into my office. We need to talk.”
I put up my hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. Before this goes any further, you need to know one thing. What happened between us is over, completely over, which means we’re returning to a simple boss and EA relationship. There will be no personal demands, no touching, and no sexual innuendos. I’m not above reporting you, Mr. Westin.”
“Charlee,” he says, deflated, “you can’t be fucking serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious. I’m here to do my job and nothing else.” I wiggle my fingers and say, “List please.”
“I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean you don’t have one? You always have a list.”
“Yeah, well, that was before I fell for my assistant and got my heart broken this weekend.”
I lower the notebook, shocked that he would try to claim victim to this mess. “Your heart was broken? Are you kidding me right now?” I point to my chest. “My heart was the one that was broken this weekend. I was the one who got hurt, who got screwed over, who thought she was so much more than she actually was.” Emotion clogs my throat and I curse myself for not being strong enough. Whispering, I say, “You made me feel special, like I mattered, and within seconds, that was taken away from me as I realized it was all a lie.”
“It wasn’t a goddamn lie, Charlee,” he says growing angry. “You are special to me. You do mean everything to me. Fuck, Charlee . . .” He grips the back of his neck and looks to the side before he takes a deep breath and meets my gaze. “I fucking fell in—”
“No,” I say, not wanting to hear the words, not when I know they can’t possibly be genuine, not when I’m so confused. Not when my heart can’t take any more blows. “This was a bad idea,” I say before I can stop myself. “Coming here, acting like it’s all going to be okay, so close to Saturday. This was a very bad idea.” I ditch him at the elevator and start gathering my things at my desk. I feel him follow me closely.
“What are you doing? Are you . . . quitting?” he asks, the word quitting so strained I’m afraid he might actually be on the verge of tears.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to take a few vacation days, visit my parents. Get away from everything. This city, my grandma . . . you.”
“When are you going to be back?”
“I don’t know.” I look up at him and say, “But when I do come back, I won’t talk about this, about us. I can’t. And I ask that you respect that decision. This is it, Rath. We’re done, and if you can’t handle that, then fire me. Let me out of my contract and send me on my way.”
“Never,” he says softly while shaking his head. “I could never send you away.”
I hoist my purse on my shoulder and head toward the elevator. “Then respect my wishes and drop this. We’re done. There’s nothing more to discuss.” I hit the elevator button and hop in when the doors open. I press the button for the lobby, and I’m very grateful I don’t have to wait long.
Staring at the ground, I don’t look back and just as the doors are about to close, Rath’s hand stops them. Startled, I look up to find him tortured and desperate.
“Stay,” he says. “Stay and work on this. Work on us. Don’t just give up. I know you were hurt before, but don’t put me in the same box as the guy who left you at the altar. You know I’m not the same man.”
“You’re not,” I say quietly. “Because you are so much more than him, and that’s what hurts, because looking back, I would expect this from Chris. I never expected you to be capable of this type of . . . cruelty.”
“Fuck, Charlee, it’s not the same. It’s not even close to the same because unlike him, I want you. I need you, Charlee. Don’t fucking leave. Stay here, work it out with me.”
Eyes watering up, I take a step forward, his body straightening and I remove his hand from the door, letting it drop to his side.
“Goodbye, Rath.”
The doors close and I lean against the elevator wall. I let out a long breath and then let the tears flow. He’s right, he is nothing like Chris. He’s so much more.
Rath was the man I was going to marry, and not because of a silly agreement, but because I loved him, because he was the man I wanted to be with, because he was the be all and end all when it came to men.
Once again, my instincts were wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
RATH
“Fuck,” I scream when I reach my office, my hands pulling on every strand of hair I have.
I pace the office, trying to figure out what to do. How do I fix this? How do I make her come back? How do I make her see I wanted nothing to do with Vanessa, that taking her to the wedding wasn’t because of Vanessa? It was because I wanted Charlee there. I wanted Charlee by my side, holding my hand, dancing with me, preparing for what’s to come for us.
But somehow this became such a goddamn mess. I have no idea how to even begin fixing this.
Slouching in one of the armchairs in my office, I rest my elbows on my knees and continue to pull on my hair.
Defeated. That’s how I feel, absolutely defeated.
Coming in this morning, I thought maybe I had a small chance of figuring things out if she showed up to work. That I could convince her to sit down and listen to me. But what kind of businessman am I if I can’t even convince my girl to listen to me?
Not much of one.
I glance up at my desk where I find the breakfast she made for me and it cuts me in the gut, making me feel nauseous. But, because she made it for me, I walk over to my desk, sit, and start eating it while I look around my office.
She’s changed so much in my life, so much that now feels natural.
Breakfast. Light in my office. Plants that I care about. Books that I love. Organization I thrive off. Green on Thursdays to power through the day. Jeans and dancing on Friday to celebrate.
Her witty comments.
Her no-bullshit attitude.
Her gorgeous smile.
Her into
xicating laugh.
Her warm touch and blush when we’re intimate.
Just . . . her.
I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly start typing out a text to her. If she’s not going to listen to me in person, maybe, just maybe I can get her to read some of my texts.
* * *
Rath: You might not want to talk to me, but I’m going to talk to you because I want you to know, I won’t give up on this, on us. You are important to me. You quickly became a staple in my life that I need—in and outside the office. I need you in my life, Charlee, and I will remind you of that every damn day. So I’m going to start with today. I miss your smile. The last time I saw it was Saturday afternoon when you looked so fucking stunning. And that wasn’t because of the dress. It’s been over twenty-four hours and I feel as though I’m slowly withering inside without it. It gives me life and it gives me hope. Until I see it again, I will lean on the picture you gave me for my birthday, because that’s the Charlee I fell for.
* * *
Rath: Good morning, baby. I hope you made it to your parents okay. I know the roads were slippery with all the rain. I got to the office and started watering the plants with that pink canister you always carry around. Talked to Sir Dragomir for a while about you. I told him how on the first day after I fired you, you told me you might be my assistant, but you’re not my maid. That comment right there let me know how special you are. You might be small in stature, but you sure as hell have a big presence, and it’s one of the many things I love about you.
* * *
Rath: I woke up this morning to an empty bed. No one was humping my leg, jabbing me with their cold toes, or snuggling in close to my side and fuck . . . it hurt. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how on earth I got to this point where I didn’t get to turn to the side and capture you in my arms, feel your warm skin against mine. I fucked up, Charlee. I know I did. I didn’t fight hard enough for you to stay but when you get back, I will be fighting. I know you told me it was over, but it’s far from over, baby. You and me . . . we’re just beginning.
* * *
Rath: It’s Thursday. I’m wearing green. I went out yesterday and bought a forest-green suit for Thursdays and from here on out, I’ll always wear it on Thursdays. I paired it with a white shirt and brown shoes. I’ll send you a picture. I was hoping I would come into the office this morning and see your beautiful face at your desk, wearing green as well, but when I saw your chair was empty, my heart fell. I miss you, Charlee. I miss you so goddamn much. Please just let me know everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to give me a second chance. Please let me make this right.
* * *
Rath: I didn’t go into work today. I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I donated my couch to the local shelter (I feel bad I gave them something so stiff) and I bought a new couch. I spent hours in the store testing every couch, wondering if it would be soft enough for you. I think I found the perfect one. It’s being delivered tonight. It’s over-the-top large, deep, and has a cuddler on the end, which means you need to come back. We need to make up, and we need to cuddle in the cuddler. Come home to me, Charlee. Come home.
* * *
Rath: I can’t fucking sleep without you.
Nothing tastes the same.
My apartment feels empty.
I’m so goddamn angry, upset . . . sad.
I only have myself to blame, I realize this, but I need you to know this last week has been the worst week of my life, and it’s because I don’t have you.
* * *
My phone buzzes next to me, and I see that it’s the concierge. Sighing, I pick it up. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Westin. We have someone here trying to visit you who’s not on your list. She says she’s your grandma?”
“Not his grandma you, doofus,” I hear a voice say in the background. “Charlee’s grandma.”
“Excuse me. Miss Cox’s grandma is here to see you.”
I straighten up and glance at my holey sweats and stained shirt.
Shit.
“Uh, send her up.”
I hang up and look around my apartment. I have two options: clean up the space or clean myself up. The coffee mugs on the coffee table and empty pastry boxes need to go, so I choose to clean my place.
I quickly scoop them up and take them to the kitchen where I break down the boxes for recycling and toss—carefully—the mugs into the dishwasher. I pick up my discarded clothes, throw them down the hallway into my bedroom, and go to pick up the pillow and blankets on the couch, when there’s a knock at my door.
Jesus, that was fast.
I walk over to the entryway, take a look at myself in the mirror next to the door, and cringe. Yup, I look like I’m going through a breakup. I guess she would know that though.
On a deep breath, I open the door. Charlee’s Grandma looks as ragged as me on the other side reminding me about what happened, what she did.
“Rath, thank you for letting me up.”
I grip the doorframe but don’t let her in just yet. “How can I help you?”
Hands on her hips, I see the same spark in her eyes that I see in Charlee, and it gives me a margin of peace, some minute connection to Charlee.
Being the spunky eighty-year-old that she is, she pushes past me and walks into my apartment while saying, “You look like crap.”
I shut the door behind me and counter, “I could say the same about you.”
She scans the apartment and points at the couch. “Are you sleeping on the couch?”
I nod. “Yeah, doesn’t feel the same to sleep in my bed without her.”
“I knew it.” She spins and points at me. “You’re lovesick.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” I scratch the back of my neck and flop on my couch.
She takes a seat in one of the armchairs and sets her purse on the coffee table that was just crowded by coffee mugs. Some of the coffee rings are still visible.
“So, if you’re lovesick, why aren’t you going to get her?”
“You know, I really think you should start this conversation with an apology rather than a lecture. I care about you, Janice, but you lied. That shit stung.”
She carefully sets her hands on her lap. “Yes, I’m aware of the damage I’ve done. Trust me, my granddaughter won’t talk to me either.”
“Then why did you do it? Why would you fuck with people’s hearts?”
“Because.” She lifts her chin. “I know I might sound like a kooky old lady, but I’ve been around the block a few times. I know when I see a connection between two people and I also know when those two people are hurt souls. My birthday. I knew right then and there you two belonged to each other, but it was going to take some heavy finagling to make it happen. Do I regret my actions? Yes, but I don’t regret trying to get you two together, because deep down I know you two are meant for each other.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I say, “You told her you were sick.”
“And you’re telling me you didn’t lie to her either?”
Point made.
Defiantly, I cross my arms over my chest and say, “Mine wasn’t as bad as yours.”
“The heart can only take so much. Yours might not have seemed too bad, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re the one she’s fallen for, the one who owns her heart, and you tampered with it. But we are not in a competition to see who hurt Charlee more. I’m here because I wanted to apologize to you for any stress I might have put you though. I like you, Rath, a lot, and I truly hope you can figure this out with Charlee because you two”—she gets choked up and her hands fall to her chest—“deserve forever with each other.”
“Hell.” I stand and pull her into a hug. Her fragile body molds against mine as she cries into my chest.
“I want you two to be happy. Please tell me you won’t stop reaching out to her, you won’t quit trying to earn her love.”
I press a kiss to the top of her gray hair and squeeze her tight. My heart h
urts for Janice. I know she’s devastated. She’s lost the light in her life. “I promise. I won’t ever give up.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty
CHARLEE
My phone buzzes.
Another text from Rath.
I don’t even bother looking at this one. I know what it’s going to do. It’s just going to weaken me, make me sad over everything I lost, and make me cry once again.
That’s the vicious cycle I’ve been going through all week. Get a text from him, read it, cry. Over and over and over again.
It’s gotten to the point that I’ve had a constant headache from crying, and it won’t go away. That’s why I’m lying in bed on a Saturday afternoon rather than doing anything.
When I arrived at my parents’ house, they didn’t even ask what I was doing there. Grandma had called and explained everything. They helped me carry my things to my childhood room and then let me be by myself. The next day, my mom brought me some of her famous blueberry buckle. I had a small bite but that was it. That night, my dad brought me soup. I had a few spoonfuls.
And it’s been like that all week. I haven’t really emerged from my room, only here and there. My parents have come to talk to me, play cards with me, keep me company, but they haven’t pushed me. They know the immense pain I’m going through. They know I’m hurt from my grandma’s lie, but they also know I’m devastated by Rath.
How could I not be?
I thought he loved me. I believed he did. I thought he cared for me, but he didn’t. He cared about his own agenda and used me as a tool to better the outlook of himself, something I never would have expected from him.
And the worst thing of it all is I really believed him. All the things he said to me, the way he looked me in the eyes when he was deep inside of me. It was so real.
Boss Man Bridegroom Page 36
