by Emma Tharp
Our flights are smooth and we both sleep most of the way home. I have dreams of walking on the beach with her, laughing, talking…making love. She’s consuming me, even in sleep.
When my driver hauls our luggage into the back of my town car, he drives us to my penthouse. It’s strange how quiet she is on the ride. She's jumpy and biting at the corner of her thumbnail like she always does when she's nervous. I hold her hand, but it doesn’t seem to calm her or change her mood.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, just a little bit groggy from the flight. But why are we going back to your place?"
"Your things are still there." Looks like she’s really ready to get back to her apartment and have some time away from me. We’ve been together twenty-four seven the last six weeks. I don’t feel that way though. I’ve enjoyed every minute we’ve spent together.
She nods, seeming to accept my explanation.
Our bags are unloaded at my building and we ride up the elevator to my apartment. She goes directly to the bedroom to gather her things. I follow her.
Her shoulders are slumped and her arms hang at her sides. I wonder what’s making her so sad. Scrolling through the day’s events in my mind, it doesn't make sense. Maybe after she gets a full night’s sleep, she’ll feel better. I won’t bother her about it today. We have all the time in the world.
And all of a sudden, a light bulb goes off. How could I have been so stupid? I haven't paid her yet. I go to my office and write out the check. Going back into the room, I walk right up to her.
"I've really enjoyed our time together." I have a big grin on my face and the check in hand when she looks up at me.
Eighteen
Camille
My heart burns in my chest like someone is stomping on it.
He gave me the check. Of all the things he could have done, he gave the damn check. I don't want the check. Sure, I was sort of in it for the money…at first, but that was before I knew him, before I fell for him.
Garrett might as well have slapped me in the face, his actions sting so much.
Taking a deep breath, I thank him, then finish packing while avoiding looking at him. I fold the NYU T-shirt he let me wear and put it in my suitcase. I don’t know why, but I want it. All of the other clothes he bought me are tucked away in my suitcase. That’s everything.
On the flight home today, he slept all the way. I counted down the minutes until we landed, dreading every single one. I didn’t want to leave paradise or him. I realized early today that Garrett wasn’t going to ask me to come back home and stay with him. If he had asked, I would have said yes. I was ready, even if it’d only been six weeks. How could I let myself believe he wanted the same things? Sure, he never said the words, but that’s not the kind of man he is.
I can't let him see the tears I'm desperately trying to hold in. I don't want him to catch a glimpse of my face, which must be crimson from the shame and the rage. I thought I meant more to him than this. Clearly, I don't.
I take my bags and make my way to the elevator.
"Weren’t you going to say goodbye?" Garrett asks.
I look away and press the down arrow. "Goodbye, Garrett."
"Are you sure you want to leave now? We can talk if you'd like. Order in some food." Garrett's voice is full of concern, but I refuse to look in his eyes.
"No. I’d like to get home and unpack." Before I say something I’m sure I’ll regret. Because I’m so close. Like, What the hell are you thinking? Was I just a fling? If that’s all I was then why did you make me feel otherwise? Why did you let me fall in love with you?
He's hovering, standing too close. It’s all of a sudden too hard to get enough oxygen in my lungs. He pulls me to him and embraces me and kisses the top of my head. I breathe him in. I can still smell the beach and the island, and all of the memories come flooding back. I'm on the very edge of crying and I can barely hold it in.
The elevator dings and I pull away from him, rushing inside and pounding the close door button multiple times. I need to get as far away from him and away from this place and all of its memories as fast as I can.
Right before the door closes, the last thing I see is Garrett standing there, confused. There was another emotion there…fear. Last time I saw that look was when he was going through the divorce. He was worried over how much he had to lose, and everyone finding out the baby wasn't his before he had the chance to tell them, prime them. I heard him on the phone with Donovan. Sometimes his brother steers him right, other times he’s way off.
Like when he suggested Garrett hook up with some women. I heard that conversation. I heard everything. And that's why I won't be able to work with him any longer. As soon as I make it back to my apartment, I know what I have to do.
I didn't cry in the Uber on the ride home. No. There are things I need to do before I give myself the luxury of tears. I drag my suitcase into my apartment and quickly unpack. I'll stay in the tiny place until I decide what to do next with my life. I know for certain I'm not going back to work with Garrett. Watching him meet other women and date would be like a knife through the heart. Setting up dinner reservations or organizing his outings with other females would be a special kind of hell.
Everything that we shared together this weekend made me see how incredible we are for each other. How could he not see it? I was foolish for letting myself fall in love with him. He made it so easy. When he took care of me after my surgery, he was thoughtful and kind. I was falling for him before our trip, but on Monroe Cay, that's what sealed the deal. I couldn't imagine a time when I wouldn’t be able to hold him when I wanted to, or kiss him…make love to him. I thought he felt the same as I did. It was in the way our eyes locked, his kisses, and when he continued to bring me pleasure over and over again. My silly body begins to pulse just thinking about it. I have to stop this now before I drive myself crazy.
I wish I could go back and un-know him, un-love him. It’d make my life so much easier. Now that I’ve seen what life can be like with a man who builds me up, and made me believe that I was selling myself short all those years in bad relationships, I can’t go back. He made me want more.
Even though it's Sunday, I type up a letter of resignation, effective immediately. I print it out, seal it, and put it in an envelope with all of my keys and drive to the building. Once inside, I convince the security guard to let me into the office so I can collect my things, drop the letter on his desk, and lock up behind myself.
I congratulate myself on how efficient I am—and I didn’t even cry while doing it.
On the ride home, that's when I finally let the tears fall.
Nineteen
Garrett
My heart was heavy watching Camille walk out of my place yesterday. For the first time in six weeks, it felt like there was distance between us and I didn't like it. At all. We've only been apart twelve hours and it feels like a lifetime to me since I've seen her or talked to her. I wanted to call her last night, hear her voice, but knew she needed her space.
I open the door to the office, excitement and adrenaline coursing through me. I can't wait to see her. That smile she gives me when she first sees me is something I can’t get enough of. She’s always happy to see me and I love the appreciation in her eyes when they land on me. But when I get inside, she isn't at her desk. I make my way to the break room, keeping my head down, not saying hello to anyone because I’m on a mission. But she isn't there either.
Heading back toward my office, I note that Camille's desk is completely empty. I didn’t notice that when I first came in. All of her personal belongings seem to be missing. Opening the drawer, every whimsical item I've ever teased her about has disappeared—her pink ChapStick, her purple scissors, her floral-patterned electric toothbrush and toothpaste.
My heart feels as heavy as a boulder in my chest.
I rush into my office, considering calling in a burglary, when I see an envelope on my desk with my name on it, written in Camille's loopy script. It
's bulky and when I open it, there are her set of office keys.
Sinking down in my chair, I read her resignation letter. My nostrils flare as I try to control my emotions. The letter is professional and devoid of anything personal. Thank you for the opportunity. Yada yada.
Holding it in my hand, I stare out the window and replay in my head every minute of our last day together. We woke up, had breakfast, a walk on the beach followed by insanely hot sex. It was the perfect morning. Sure, she was quiet before we left, and once we got back to NYC, but I still don't understand. We didn't have a fight, nothing went wrong. Why would she leave me?
No.
No way.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. It's because I gave her the money.
That's all she wanted me for.
She got what she wanted and now we’re done. I'm getting my heart broken this time instead of my ego. The heart hurts way worse.
I sit quietly at my desk, not sure what to do or how to make things better. Letting her walk away without so much as an explanation isn’t acceptable. This last weekend was one of the best of my life and it’s all because of Camille. She makes me laugh, and she’s passionate and hard working. Not to mention, the chemistry we have isn’t something that comes along every day. She can’t deny that. Or was it all an act? No. You can’t fake what we have. And I need to figure out a way to bring her back into my life—because now that I’ve had her, I don’t think that I can live without her.
Without warning, Donovan bursts into my office. He has more of a spring in his step today. I watch as he pauses in front of Camille's desk. "She at lunch?"
I shake my head.
"You fired her?"
I love how he jumps to conclusions. Without answering him, I merely groan. “What has you so cheery today?”
“Something very intriguing has just crossed my desk and it’s going to open up a door that I thought closed a very long time ago. Might be my chance at retribution. But I’ll tell you more about that later. I can see something is off.” Donovan flops down on the couch, crossing his ankle over his knee, and clasps his hands behind his neck. "Tell Dr. Donovan all about it."
I can’t begin to imagine what Donovan’s plans are, nor do I have the mental energy for it today. I know he’ll fill me in another time. "Aren't I supposed to be the one on the couch?"
Donovan stands. "You want the couch? I don't care. I think you just need to talk. How did you manage to fuck up your life this time?"
I glare at him, shooting daggers straight through his damn soul. "By listening to you. I should've called Giselle."
"That's funny. Like our sister has any room to give you romantic advice." He laughs. "Now tell me what happened."
"Good point." Our sister has never been lucky in love. "Yesterday, I gave Camille the check and then she left. This morning her desk is cleared out and she left a resignation letter. I don't get it."
Donovan takes the seat in front of me. "That's not enough detail. How was the sex? Awful?"
Of course, Donovan has to ask about sex. "No. The opposite. It was intense, mind-blowing, and seemingly nonstop for the entire weekend. We couldn't get enough of each other. And it was so much more than that. We bonded, connected like I never have with a woman before. Not even Adriana. And everything was perfect until Sunday. The ride home was quiet and then I gave her the check. Once that happened, she scurried out of the penthouse like the place was on fire."
He turns his head away and covers his mouth. "You gave her the money at the end. She thought you were paying her to leave."
I throw my hands in the air. "We had a deal. We were supposed to go away together for the weekend and then, I pay her. All I did was hold up my end of the bargain."
"It's all in the timing, big brother. You paid her at the end. She thinks it signifies that you don't want to see her anymore, that you've had all you want from her. You really are an idiot."
"Okay. How would you have done it?"
"Better than you."
Twenty
Camille
It's Monday, and the pain in my chest continues to get worse since leaving Garrett’s apartment yesterday.
As I sit in my car, clutching my purse to my chest, I think of the choices I have. I can go to my bank and deposit the check Garrett wrote me, accept that everything is over, and get on with my life. There are so many ways that I could spend this money, and each would change my life. Only, I don't want that. I don't want to leave the city and move somewhere else, start a new life.
I don't want to be without Garrett.
Last night, I put on Garrett’s NYU T-shirt that still smells like him, drank too much wine, and laid around my house, wallowing in self-pity. This morning when I woke up, I realized that there's only one way to fix this. This leads me to my second option; I'm going to return the check and beg for my job back. I drive in the direction of the building. This way, even if Garrett wants nothing more to do with me relationship-wise, I'll still get to be near him.
When I reach the building, a wave of nervous nausea swirls around my stomach. Even though I've entered and left this place more times than I can count, today the building seems to loom over me. It's more imposing than ever before. I wonder if Garrett is looking out his window, not that it would matter. He never looks down. It’s why he never saw me before.
With sure steps, I enter the building. Taking the elevator, I reach the correct floor and take a deep breath as the doors open. Donovan is standing there, ready to catch the elevator down.
He chuckles when he sees me and shakes his head.
"What?" I ask.
"You sure do know how to wreck a guy," Donovan says. "Go put my brother out of his misery."
Who knows what any of that means? I shake my head and ignore him, making my way down the hall to Garrett’s office. Reaching for the handle, before I can open it, the door flings wide open. It’s Garrett. There are dark circles under his eyes and he’s wearing his coat, obviously preparing to leave for the day, at only one in the afternoon. He stops dead as his eyes drink me in.
"Oh. Hi." Seeing him now strips all of my defenses, and my eyes feel like they might water. I blink hard and fight the tears back. Not now.
"What do you want?" He sounds resigned and sad.
I shake my head. Of course, he thinks I want something else. That I want more. Well, I do, but what I want can't be bought.
Opening my purse, I reach inside and with shaking hands, I give him the check.
"Did I forget to sign this?" His voice is wary as he scans it, flipping it over from the front to back.
"No," I huff. "I'm returning it. I don't want it."
"Okay, then. What do you want?" His jaw is set tight.
My stomach rolls. I didn’t know how this would go, but I didn’t expect him to be so cold. I can't look him in the eyes. "I want what every woman wants; things I can't have."
"Like what?"
Squaring my shoulders, I gather up all my courage and look up at him. "Well, you know… Love, happiness, family, and…you."
Garrett's eyes brighten, but only for a second. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Can we go into your office to talk?” I ask tentatively, unsure if he’s going to want anything more to do with me after I left the resignation letter and our deal is officially over.
He nods and holds his hand out in the direction of his office.
We go inside and I stand next to his desk.
“Have a seat, Camille.” He points to the couch.
I sit and cross my legs, but it’s uncomfortable so I uncross them. Wiping my palms on my pants, I attempt to shift myself into a relaxed position.
Garrett sits on the couch, but he’s acting like I have a communicable disease because he’s sitting at the complete opposite end. I probably deserve that. “What did you want to talk about, Camille?”
You can do this. Just don’t throw up. “I think I messed up and I was hoping that instead of the money, I could have
my job back. If that’s possible.”
He looks at me sideways. “Why’d you give me a resignation letter?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. Yesterday, when we got back to your penthouse, you handed me the check. It wasn’t what I wanted.”
Putting his hand up, he gestures for me to stop. “This is what I don’t understand. You and I had a deal. We traded the weekend for one hundred thousand dollars. You kept up your end of the bargain and so did I.” His tone is impatient. He’s all business, a side I haven’t seen in weeks.
I close my eyes and count to ten before I speak. “You haven’t had to woo a woman in a long time, so let me explain something to you. What we shared this weekend meant something to me. So, when we got back and you gave me the money, it felt like it cheapened what went on between us.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want the money anymore?”
“I want more than the money. And it’s because of you that I feel that way. The way you treated me with kindness, respect, and well…” I swallow hard. “Passion. You made me see what I’m worth and I can’t go back to the girl I was before.”
“You should never go back. You’re a wonderful woman who deserves the world.”
“I don’t need the world. All I want is you, Garrett.” There. I said it and I’m just going to leave it there and see where he takes it.
He runs his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say any of that yesterday before you left my place? You weren’t even going to say goodbye to me. That hurt, Camille.”
“I was hurt, too.”
He sighs and moves closer to me, but we still aren’t touching. The desire to touch him is strong, but I remain in my spot, hands to myself. “I’m sorry that I upset you. I thought you knew how I felt about you. I’d never want to make you feel cheap. You were acting upset and I thought it was because I hadn’t paid you yet. I see now how wrong I was.”
My hands are twisted in my lap. Will Garrett ever understand? “Thank you for that, but I need more.”
