Chapter 27
Monica
I watched in a horror of hurt as the man I had given a second chance to walked after his ex-wife who had just belittled me in front of everyone. I felt like I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The words I couldn’t even form in my head escaped as a quiet croak from my lips as I watched her hand wrap around his arm.
I suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on me as their hushed whispers became the only noise I could hear in this exquisitely large ballroom. A ballroom that I didn’t belong in. In a dress I didn’t belong in. I heard muffled laughter as I wrapped my arms around myself, as if trying to shield myself from those who stared.
Veronica was right, I was playing dress up. Playing pretend. I could see that clearly now as I stood in the center of this beautiful room with everyone who had probably found the magic of this place to have worn off from the mere task of being invited to yet another gala in their wealthy, busy world. Up until now, before their faces were masking smiles as I had been exposed as not one of them, their faces were adorned with forced, bored smiles.
To me, the night had been pure magic. As stubborn as I had tried to be in letting Troy back into my life, I got whisked away in his attention. In the velvet ribbon wrapped around the boxes he left each day at my desk. It wasn’t what was inside that got me, it was simply the fact that he saw me again. That he wasn’t shutting me out, when all week I had been silently begging for just one glance my way.
And then he showed up at my apartment in a limo that felt like a carriage to take me to the ball, in a black tux that hugged every perfect inch of him. I could hardly breathe as I took him in, and when he looked at me, it was all over. It wasn’t a look of lust. A look I was used to and craved. No, this was different. Something else was in his eyes, but I didn’t dare let myself venture to guess what it was.
When he apologized, I could hear the wobbly desperation in his voice. The quiet pain he never let anyone hear when it came to his father. He gave me a little glimpse into his life and I instinctively wanted to fix it for him. Patch him up. Instead, I listened and I accepted. I forgave. Even though he had a bad day and shut me out, I missed him too much to fault him for what went deeper than letting an argument with his father come between us.
But now, I missed him even more as he stood with her. His ex-wife who was obviously flirting with him. And it seems he enjoys. Pain jolted me as I looked at them touching and their heads close. I realized now that between this and his father, he hadn’t let me all the way in. I was always kept at an arm’s length from the mess of his life. Letting someone see your mess meant you wanted them to be with you as you figured out how to clean it up. It meant you trusted them. It meant you loved them.
I couldn’t fault him for it. I hadn’t let him in on my mess. My failed book. My fear of writing. The fear for my safety with a stalker out in the city. Maybe it was because I was scared he would run from it. Or maybe I was scared to let him fully in because it meant risking heartbreak. A heartbreak I knew in my bones would ruin me.
Should I risk it? I took a deep breath as I walked toward Troy, his back turned to me. I swore Veronica’s eyes flickered toward me for a second before she went on to ignore my approach.
“What exactly is going on between you two?” she asked.
“It’s nothing,” Troy answered firmly.
I stopped in my tracks.
“She’s my personal assistant, for God’s sake. It’s just business.”
The coldness in his voice was more biting than the words that left his mouth.
It felt like the air was knocked out of me as I stumbled backward, tripping over the train of my dress. I saw Veronica’s eyes on me. The pleasure in them as she watched me absorb Troy’s words like punches to my gut. The pleasure in seeing me fall.
Everyone in the room seemed to suck in a collective breath as I fell to the cold marble floor, people scattering like broken glass. My face turned as red as the satin dress that draped around me. Troy turned slowly and his eyes fell on me. Before he could even move or utter another word, I quickly pulled myself from the floor and ran. My ears felt like they were burning as a silent scream passed through them, blocking out the music, the clinking of glasses, the hum of voices. I could have sworn I heard Troy call after me, but I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t let these people see me cry. I wouldn’t let him see my cry.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes and fell down my face in warm streams as I ran through the large hall and out the doors to the harsh, cold evening air. I ran down the steps and down the red carpet to the sidewalk, not looking back. I hailed a cab and clambered inside. A quiet sob escaped me as it pulled away from the fairytale I had let myself fall for.
Back in the reality of my small apartment in Queens, in my dress that felt too big for the space, I struggled to reach the zipper. I felt like I was suffocating in the facade of the dress. The diamond jewelry. The shoes. I turned in a circle, trying to free myself and failing. I crumpled to the floor in a heap as the sobs escaped me.
I heard a knock at my door, startling me. I slowly stood from the ground as the knock sounded again.
“Who is it?” I called out, my voice shaky.
I had a brief moment of panic as I imagined my stalker on the other side of the door. The long blond hair. The eyes that were so dark they could be black. The smile that was more of a sneer across his dry lips.
“It’s me.”
Troy’s muffled voice floated through the door, calming my heart that had begun to race.
I remained quiet.
“Please let me in,” he said. “Please, Monica.”
I took a deep breath before unlatching the top lock and the three other locks that lined up beneath it. I opened the door and found his hands on the doorframe, his head down in shame. He looked up quickly and his eyes looked frantic.
“Thank God. Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step forward. Reaching for me.
I stepped back, avoiding his touch.
He looked taken aback.
“Monica…”
“Don’t touch me,” I said, every word enunciated as if it could hold its own in a sentence.
I saw him wince as he put his hands down at his sides.
“Look, I’m so sorry for what Veronica said back there. It was vile. I… I don’t even know what to say. It was inexcusable.”
He thought this was about her. She could have launched a hundred insults at me, but the weight of what he said would crush me more than her spew of hatred.
“Veronica…” I said slowly.
“Look, I never told you about her. I should have. She is my ex-wife and has made it her mission to make my life a living hell. I can’t seem to get her out of my life.”
I let out a laugh that sounded more angry than amused. He made it sound like he was a weak man who couldn’t stand his ground, and it made me feel nothing but pity.
“We got married on a whim in Vegas. It feels like a lifetime ago. It was stupid. So stupid. I couldn’t risk disappointing my father by ending things. I couldn’t risk his reputation. So I tried to see it through. I couldn’t, though.”
I realized then the issues he had ran far deeper than I could have imagined. The man in front of me was actually a boy who was terrified of ever letting his father down. He revolved his world around it, making choices that weren’t for him, but for the man who raised him. The man who had inadvertently ruined his son.
Troy continued, “We divorced years ago. There is nothing between us.”
“Just like there’s nothing between us?” I asked, narrowing my gaze.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I heard you,” I said.
“Monica, I…” He took a step toward me and reached for my hand.
“Don’t.” I snatched my hand away. “Don’t show up here and try to act like you care about me.”
“I do…” he started.
“Why? I’m just your personal assistant. It’s just business,” I said, repeating his own words. “I’m just a little plaything you keep around for when you want to fuck.”
“That’s not true,” he stammered.
“Isn’t it? Am I not just like all your other personal assistants?”
He looked taken aback.
“You think I didn’t know? It was the first thing Kathy warned me about when I took the job.”
“You’re different,” he said softly.
“Ha! Do you think I don’t already feel like a joke to you? Now you want to pretend that this time is different. Please.” I rolled my eyes.
“It is. You know that.”
“I don’t know anything. I don’t know you.”
He shuffled his feet, not saying anything.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said as I reached up and fiddled with the clasp of the diamond necklace that now looked dull.
I shoved it at his chest, followed by the diamond earrings.
“I don’t want any of this,” I said.
He looked helpless as he stood there, grasping the jewelry.
“I don’t want anything to do with you outside of you being my boss and me being your personal assistant.” I kicked off the strappy shoes from my feet and tossed them toward the door of my apartment.
I would have taken the dress off right there if I could figure out the zipper, but then I would just be standing in my undergarments. The ones I had chosen just for him. I would just have to get the dress sent back to him.
“Go,” I said, looking at the door.
He swallowed hard, the lump of his throat bobbing slowly as he studied my face only to see the coldness that hardened my features.
“Fine,” he said with a slight shrug.
It was as if I could see his walls go up right in my living room. He tucked the diamond necklace and earrings into the inside pocket of his jacket. He barely looked at me as he turned toward the door I had just told him to go out of. He ignored the shoes on the floor as he opened the door and slipped outside of it. The click of the door sounded loudly in my ears, deafening me as I fell to my knees.
I let the tears fall, leaving crimson drops on the red, satin material of the dress that was a painful reminder of the man who had just left. A part of me wished he had fought harder. It was selfish. Stupid, really. But I couldn’t help it. Him leaving the way he did was just the painful confirmation that I had made the right decision in ending things.
As I sat on the hardwood floor of my apartment, I shook my head as I realized Veronica had been right. I was Cinderella and the clock had just struck midnight.