11. Stalling
eleven
Stalling
Emma
In the morning, I made it a point to wake up before Dean did, so that I could slip off to my suite to shower and get ready. In the shower, I recalled the peacefulness of our slumber through the night. I had only woken up once at dawn, and when I looked at him, he had the most serene look on his face. Glad that I could help with that, I tried not to think about how I hadn’t earned that penthouse his mother had supposedly left me.
Over breakfast, Dean and I didn’t exchange any words after a polite, ‘Good morning’. As I silently drank my coffee, I opened his calendar on my tablet. I found a half-hour gap available at one-thirty this afternoon, so I squeezed my name in for a meeting alone with him.
Our morning went about the way all the days had been going for the past month. God, had it really been a month since I had agreed to marry him?
It felt like an eternity.
When it was time for my meeting with Dean, I picked up the phone and called him. “Yes, Emma,” he immediately answered. “Please, come on in. ”
Drawing a deep breath, I grabbed nothing but my personal phone and marched on, walking into his office with my head held up high. “Hi.” I smiled as I closed the door.
“Hi.” He tilted his head, his face expressionless, while he watched me walk toward the chair across from him. As soon as I sat down, he asked, “Here to finish last night’s discussion?”
“Do you mind?”
He shrugged. “Not at all.”
“Okay.” I paused, staring into his eyes. “When would you like me to leave?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I must admit that, since I wasn’t aware of the dynamics of your personal life, I didn’t know how a quick divorce was going to affect it.” Looking away, he slowly nodded. “That was selfish of me.”
“No, Dean.” I tried to keep my voice calm, hiding emotions I couldn’t even name. “You were losing the most important person in your life. I hold no resentment. I came into this agreement knowing what it entailed.”
“Well.” He looked away for a moment before getting up, marching toward the bar. “Drink?”
“No, thanks.”
He proceeded to make himself one. “I think it would be best if you decide on your departure date. Perhaps you’d like to give your parents some sort of a prelude… heads-up that things aren’t working out.” Pausing, his hands and visual focus behaved as if he were preparing the most important drink of his life. “I don’t want their questions later to cause you—or me—any kind of trouble.”
Even though it was sweet of him to consider all of this, a part of me wanted to believe that he liked having me around. Honestly, I didn’t want to leave him yet—I believed that he still needed me while he processed his grief, even if he refused to admit it. Smiling, knowing that he wasn’t looking, I said, “That’s good thinking.”
“Also, if you don’t mind… I’d like you and Helen to help me go through mom’s things and…” his voice trailed off.
“Of course.”
“She owned some really nice things.” With his back still facing me, I saw him lift up the glass and take a sip. “Maybe you’d like to—”
“I—I’d rather not. Frankly, I’d still like to talk to you about that apartment—”
“I want you to have it.” He turned to me, eyes serious. “Believe me, you’ve earned it.”
I couldn’t help but feel slightly offended; was he referring to the night we made love?
Knowing that my face must have automatically reflected my thoughts and feelings, I quickly raised my hands in front of me. “Dean, look.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I struggled against my instincts to conjure up the appropriate words. “What happened between us that night should remain out of this whole equation, the contract, and any feelings of obligation that you might have to compensate me. It—it shouldn’t mean anything related to that.” Pausing, I looked at his face, still revealing no emotion at all. “You didn’t force anything. We were both vulnerable, and it was… an understandable outcome to that evening.”
“Is that how you see it?” A smirk appeared on his lips, and it hurt. He took a step closer, taking another sip as he waited for my answer.
“Yes.” What was another lie, anyway?
“Well.” Suddenly, his steps earned a faster pace as he made his way around the desk, settling in his big chair behind it. Placing down the glass, he ran his finger along the length of it, slowly, following the tip of his finger with his eyes. “Then it’s a good time to remind you that we agreed for this to be an open marriage.” The words stabbed through my flesh, while he carried on, “You—and I—are free to do whatever we want. So, please, until you decide it’s the right time to conclude things… you’re not obliged to dinners with me, or anything else. And—should the opportunity arise—you can—”
“I—I get it.” I quickly nodded, closing my eyes for a second. “I understand.” When I opened my eyes, his gaze was scrutinizing me without shame. Could he read my mind through the look on my face? Did my eyes reveal how rattled I was by the thought of him making love to another woman? Quickly picking up my phone from off his desk, I shot up to my feet. “I—I think we’ve covered everything for now.”
He nodded. “Yes. I believe we have.”
Spinning on my heel, I turned around and started walking toward the door, which suddenly felt so far away. “Well, then, you’d better prep for your call with Louis. Would you like the usual lunch?”
“No,” I heard him say as my hand finally clasped the door knob. “I’d like mac and cheese with fries, please.”
“Alright.”
I closed the door behind me, feeling my heart about to leap out of my chest. What I was feeling was dangerous, which meant that I should start thinking of what I was going to do once I had moved out of his house. Out of his life. I needed to resign my position as Dean’s assistant, and in the process, find a good replacement and train them.
As I sat down in my chair, I was surprised at the amount of pain I was feeling. I didn’t want to leave Dean or stop being his assistant. I wanted nothing more than to stay by his side, because I completely believed that he needed me.
This wasn’t good— not good at all .
It took a full hour, and another cup of coffee, for me to collect my thoughts and regain my focus for work. But as soon as the wheels of productivity started turning, my phone rang with an unsaved number. I picked it up, hesitantly answering, “Hello?”
“Emmie, hi! It’s Kyle. New number.”
“O—Kyle? Ah—hi.” I paused. “How are you?”
“I’m alright. Doing well. And you?”
“I’m good. Uh—what’s up?”
“Listen, I feel bad about the way things went down at the restaurant. I really want to do this apology properly. Can I see you?”
“Kyle, it’s really okay, I’ve—”
“I know. You’ve moved on. But I won’t feel like I’ve made progress until I tell you everything I wanted to say the right way. I won’t take much of your time, I promise. When do you get off work? Just a cup of coffee on me. What do you say?” He paused. “One hour, max .”
Reluctantly, I heard myself say, “Fine. Meet me at Dee’s Café on Amsterdam Avenue. Does seven o’clock work?”
“Of course. I’ll be there. Thanks, Emmie.”
“Yeah. See you there.”
After ending the call, I immediately launched the messenger and texted Dean. I may not make it on time for dinner tonight. Meeting a friend at seven.
He responded. Sure, have fun. Where? Maybe if it’s nearby, I can wait for you.
Dee’s on Amsterdam Avenue. I don’t know how long it will take, so I guess just go ahead. Don’t wait for me.
He didn’t respond.
From that point on, and until I had to leave for my appointment with Kyle, my mind was consumed with work. First, I had to revise Dean’s schedule and update it with anything that I might have missed for tomorrow. Next, I needed to place an order for a gift to send to his cousin Bette in Washington for her birthday, RSVP to a fundraiser to which we were both invited, and send out some VIP invitations for a company luncheon next week.
When I was done, I was glad to get out of the office without Dean. Being near him right now would only remind me of the pain I had felt earlier when he talked about our open marriage. But I knew that I would soon have to address those feelings. What did I expect? That we would carry on pretending to be a couple, even in front of ourselves? Couples talked over breakfast, and about things other than work. Couples enjoyed intimate dinners and drinks on the terrace. Couples… were not like us. We weren’t a couple, even though we had slept together.
Brushing away thoughts of Dean and our strange relationship, I stepped into the bathroom and started retouching my makeup. Kyle didn’t need to know about my existential crisis, nor did he have to know about Dean at all. As far as he was concerned, I was doing fine. So, I applied some blush to conceal my paleness, smiling at myself in the mirror as a form of practice.
I wasn’t going to allow Kyle to see me looking sad, lost, or confused. He was the one making amends. It wasn’t me who was supposed to look broken.
In the crowded café, I needed to take a minute to look for Kyle. Recovery or not, Kyle was Kyle, and he loved to sit at the bustling center of everything. Dodging crammed tables and chairs to reach him, I muttered my inaudible apologies until I made it to where he was. “Hi,” I cheerfully said, sitting down in front of him. “Did I keep you waiting?”
“No, no.” He waved with a hand, while with the other, handing me the menu. “I got here five minutes ago. ”
“Oh—I’ll just take decaf.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Since when?”
I tittered. “Since I moved—” I instantly stopped myself from giving away information about Dean’s house. “I mean; I’m staying with a friend. My apartment needed repainting, and I couldn’t have possibly slept with all the fumes.”
“But now, you can’t sleep, because it’s not your bed,” he remarked with a smirk, a testament that he still remembered things about me.
“I manage.” I said, my eyes widening a tad to urge him to get to the point. “So… what is it that you needed to say to me?”
“Gosh, Emmie! Can we at least order the coffee first?”
“Oh, of course.” I quickly raised my arm up high, searching for a waiter to beckon over.
Only after sitting down in front of Kyle, did I realize how much I didn’t want to be here at all. His apology wasn’t going to change anything for me, nor was it going to mend what had been broken. That night with Dean— that carried a promise of my nightmares finally coming undone. But Kyle’s apology? That was entirely for him and him alone.
When the waiter finally came to take our order, I noticed how Kyle began to stall, asking about the different types of coffee that they carried. I, on the other hand, blurted out my order like I didn’t care if he brought me a cup of hot water instead.