Chapter Thirteen
Chloe
I’ve been at my new job for a week without any further problems. I haven’t seen Mason again since our weekend adventure that left me more confused than ever before. This is a good thing; it’s for the best. If I’m attracted to him, the smartest thing I can do is to stay far away. It might be the coward’s way, but whatever works, works, and I’m okay with calling myself a chicken. I’d rather be this than a cheater or someone who can’t be trusted.
My relationship may not be perfect, but I’m committed to Paul, and have promised to love him in good times and in bad. Paul may be distant now, but he isn’t a bad man. He isn’t abusive, doesn’t treat me poorly, doesn’t put me down. He takes care of me, provides for us, and has a kind word to say to every stranger on the street. He’s a good man. Many women would be honored to have him. I shouldn’t look for faults. We can fix our relationship if we both try. But are we willing to try anymore? I shake my head at this thought.
We’re part of a generation that doesn’t think much of others. It’s all about ourselves and our own needs, trying to get as much as we can for as little effort as possible. I don’t know if this is where we’re heading, but I can’t give up this easily can I? Doesn’t that make me no better than these people I complain about? At the same time, though, we did chat the other night and it doesn’t seem Paul wants to fix things either. It’s so damn complicated. What if it boils down that we just aren’t attracted to each other anymore? I think it might be the friendship that’s holding us together at this point, and that’s just not enough for us to remain a couple for the rest of our lives.
At four in the afternoon, my phone buzzes. Not a lot of calls come to my line. I’m the most junior associate here, and this means I mostly do the grunt work. I don’t mind. I like it, in fact. It’s nice to be unseen as much as possible. I can go through my day, get my work done, and leave it all behind when I go home.
I don’t want to work in a position that consumes me. I know some people live for their work, but work is just a way to earn a paycheck for me. I don’t want it to devour me. What will I have at the end of the day if I have nothing but my job?
Paul’s addicted to his work. He puts in eighty hours a week. He puts it above our relationship. He’s promised me many times over he’ll slow down, but he’s yet to make good on his promise. I vow I’ll never allow this to happen to me. If my life is so unfulfilled that all I have is work, I must be doing something wrong.
This is a lesson I learned from my dad. He lives a simple life. And he’s happy. I love how happy he is. He doesn’t ask for much and doesn’t want much. There were times I hated this about him, but the older I get the more I realize he’s had it right all along.
I pick up the phone, and it’s Jenny. “Hi, Chloe. We have a late-night meeting, so plan on eating here,” she says, her voice cheery.
I inwardly groan. I was thinking about how nice it will be to escape work on time and forget all about everything. And now I have my first late night meeting. I’ve worked late before, but that’s been my choice so I can catch up to the rest of the employees who have already put in their time.
I really can’t complain about a single thing this place has asked of me. It isn’t as if they ask me to do too much. If I’m being truly honest with myself I’d admit that I’ve only worked late because I’ve wanted to avoid going home, and wanted to learn as much as possible here. I honestly do want to have balance in my life, though.
“Okay, where are we meeting?” I ask while wondering why they want me here. I haven’t been with them long enough to know enough to contribute to a meeting. I’m more of a data entry person. Maybe this will change the longer I’m here, but for now, I’m mostly on my own.
“It will be in the blue room,” she says.
I tell her I’ll be there and hang up. I turn to Betty, who’s been Mr. Alexander’s personal assistant for a long time. She worked for him when he was in California, then moved here with him.
“What do I need to take to the meeting?” I ask.
“Today is for you to learn,” she explains. “We normally have these sessions a couple of times a month. Sometimes they go quickly, and sometimes they go pretty late. If it’s too late, Mr. Alexander will let us take a day off or work a half day. He’s more than a fair boss,” she assures me.
I decide to take my notebook and a pen. A lot of people will have their computers, preferring to type things out, but I take pretty good shorthand, and I don’t like to interrupt speakers with the sound of clicking keys. With too many computers in a room, the noise can get overwhelming.
I get to the blue room early; no one else is here. I glance at the clock, and it says a quarter till five. I thought others would be strolling in by now. Maybe they’re taking a quick break before the long night begins. I don’t know where to sit so I walk to the large windows and look out at the water.
I feel his presence before I hear him. I know he’s in the room. There’s a shift in the air, a static electricity only I can feel. A shiver runs through me. I don’t have to turn to know his eyes are fixed on me. I expected him to be the last person to enter the room. I should’ve known better. As much as I want to deny what’s between us, each time we’re together, the very air thickens.
With the amount of power the man exudes, he doesn’t need to put on shows, doesn’t need to exert his authority by making everyone stand until he sits, or play the games so many others play. His existence is enough to make people stand at attention. I slowly turn, but focus on the table between us.
“I’ve missed you this week,” he says, making my stomach tighten. I can’t look at him, but I don’t pretend to act surprised he’s here.
“You have no reason or right to be missing me,” I reply. I won’t admit I’ve looked for him and have missed seeing him as well. I can’t possibly miss him as I don’t know him, but I’ve looked up often, seeking him out.
“I told myself those same words for the past few days. I never actively pursued a woman before you came along. No is no,” he admits. There’s hesitation in his voice. “But I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.” He seems angry about this. I can relate. I don’t want to think about him either, but it seems I do whether I want to or not.
“I’m going to have to leave this job, aren’t I?” I ask, feeling unbearable sadness at the thought. I can practically feel him stiffen as he draws closer to me.
“You . . . will . . . not . . . quit.” He stretches this sentence out, emphasizing each word as if this is a command. It immediately makes me want to obey him. “There’s no reason for you to go. I want you here,” he adds, his jaw tense. I don’t know what he expects from me as he says these words. This situation is so damn complicated. The best thing for both of us is for me to leave. It truly is. We both know, though, that I’m not going anywhere... not unless he fires me. I’m as drawn to him as he is to me, but I’m fighting it with all I have.
“I’m not going... not yet,” I finally admit. He’s now behind me, standing far too close. His hot breath trails the back of my neck, and goosebumps pepper my skin. He leans closer; I can practically taste him.
“Good,” he says, his hot breath doing things to me I don’t care to analyze.
“Mason...” I breathe out before stopping. I’m not sure what I want to say.
His fingers trail across my side, and his body brushes mine, and I inhale, desperately wanting to lean back against him. I want this so much it nearly kills me. I realize if Paul weren’t in the picture, I’d gladly sleep with this man. I wouldn’t fight what I’m feeling, even knowing he’d take me once or twice and then be done with me. Being with him even once would be worth it. There’s zero doubt in my mind how hot the sex would be, hotter than anything I could ever imagine... not that I have much experience.
I’ve never had feelings like this before, and to explore how it would feel to lie in the arms of a man I want this much would be heavenly. There’s no use in wondering what could be, though, when it isn’t possible for me to let go.
“Chloe...” he begins. I don’t get to know what he’s about to say as we hear voices nearing the door, and he immediately takes a step back. I turn to glance at him, and he looks completely composed as a group of men and women step into the room. I wish I could recover as quickly.
“Hey, Mr. Alexander,” one of the young techs says as he moves to the table and flops down. He takes out his computer, flips it open, and looks at something, not waiting for a reply from his boss.
“Hello, Bill,” Mason replies. He steps farther away from me, and I finally breathe easier.
Jenny comes in and shows me where I should sit. I clutch my notepad in my sweaty fingers and stare holes in the table. The meeting starts, and I try to pay attention, but my mind’s replaying the short conversation with Mason. My body relives how his hot breath felt cascading over my skin. My heart races.
I barely eat any of the delicious meal Mason provides for us. His team seems in great spirits, all of them eager to impress, ideas flying through the room as quickly as bullets. It’s obvious the people who work here love their jobs, and love this think-tank session.
We finish about ten, and I look at my phone. There are no messages. Paul hasn’t even noticed I’m not home yet. My boyfriend makes it far too easy for me to want to lean on another man. At least this is what I tell myself to alleviate some of the guilt consuming me.
It isn’t until I’m on the bus that the thought crosses my mind: maybe Paul truly does want me to leave him. Maybe he fell out of love with me many years ago but is too honorable to tell me. I step inside the house and there’s no music playing, and the lights are turned off. I make my way to the bedroom and find him tucked into bed, sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face.
A bit of tenderness fills me. He’s worked day and night for weeks on end, and he’s finally crashed. It isn’t that he hasn’t noticed I’m not home; exhaustion has finally forced him to take a night off. I change and crawl into bed beside him. He turns in his sleep, and I snuggle up to his back, comforted. This is my safe place. This is where I belong.
I fall asleep, and for the first time in over a week, I don’t dream. Maybe I’m coming to the realization of what must be done... and I’m okay with it. Maybe I’m just taking my time in letting go of something that’s so much a part of me. Maybe we both need this drawn out to truly say goodbye.