Chapter 35
Monica
T he oncoming car lights were blurry through my watery eyes, as the cab weaved in and out of the light traffic of late night Manhattan. I clutched my coat tight around me, trying to comfort myself after everything that had unfolded in the last hour. When I had been in line for Chinese food, trying to avoid a bad date, I had thought of how different Troy was. How good I had it. Now, I never wanted to see him again. Floppy-haired Dean was better than what I had just been through with the man I thought I knew.
I watched the city as we passed the sidewalks bustling with friends linked arm in arm, walking to their last bar of the night, or couples bundled up in hats and scarves, their gloved hands interlocked as their foggy breath moved in sync. Seeing their smiling faces made me feel even more alone than I already did in this heated cab, in my pajamas and messy hair and splotchy cheeks.
The large stone and brick buildings with their beautifully paned windows glowed warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, which was more reminiscent of how my heart felt. I took in the upper east side as we passed. More than ever, I realized I didn’t belong here. This world of luxury and sex and heartbreak and games. It was an atrocious place. How did I ever think I could fit in here? That I could fit into Troy’s life, as if it were as simple as finding the last puzzle piece of a jigsaw. It was laughable now.
Veronica had been right about me. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t want to. Not when the people who believed they were above everyone else pushed others down to make their own beliefs true. I just couldn’t believe that Troy was one of those people. In the time I had spent with him, he seemed different from the yups of Manhattan.
Yes, he was a well-known billionaire with more money than I could even begin to imagine. But he was funny in a way I didn’t think many ever saw, and when he really laughed, it filled a room. I used to take pride in being the cause of that laughter. He was also kind, not just to me, but to strangers. I had seen him engage in conversation with servers and never treat them any less than, leaving them a generous tip behind. And it wasn’t for the praise or the thank-you. He always slipped out before they came by for the signed check.
These little things, among others, were what made me think that somehow we could work. That our worlds could mesh together if we ever figured out what we were. A part of me held out hope for that, until the gala. Even after that. But now, I saw things with razor-sharp clarity, even though my eyes blurred with tears that fell warm against my cheeks.
When the cab dropped me off at my apartment, I trudged up the stairs and began my usual lengthy process of unlocking the row of locks that lined the edge of the door. As I did so, I wondered if I would ever be able to put the same safety on my heart if I continued working for Troy.
Once inside, I slid off my coat and let it fall to a heap at my feet before kicking off my boots. I walked to my bedroom and collapsed into my bed, the sheets cold to the touch as I slid under them. I shivered slightly as I closed my heavy eyes, desperate for sleep to come. But it didn’t. I turned over from my back to my stomach, rolling to my side, never finding comfort. It wasn’t the bed. It was my head keeping me up. I sighed and rolled over to flip on the switch of my lamp on my nightstand.
The clock read 3 a.m. I groaned quietly. At least I didn’t have work tomorrow. Or the next day. It meant I didn’t have to see Troy, which was the real silver lining. But two days would hardly be enough time for me to heal from the damage of the night. It was hardly enough time for me to forget what Veronica looked like on his couch, at home and drop-dead gorgeous, his for the taking. I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly, trying to scrub the image from my mind, along with all the others I had been imagining as I tossed and turned.
I pushed the sheets off me and walked to my desk where my laptop sat, untouched for many months with a layer of dust as proof. I wiped it off and watched the dust bunnies float before picking it up and carrying it to bed. It was something I had done so many times in the past, writing from bed, but right now it felt so unfamiliar. Except I wasn’t writing a novel, unless my readers wanted to know what raw heartbreak felt like. I was sure that would go over just as well as my last book.
No, I had something else to write, and it was something I probably should have done weeks ago. Hell, I should have done it as soon as I walked into Troy’s office and saw that he was my new boss. I had to write a resignation letter. It was the only way for me to get the distance I knew I needed, but wasn’t strong enough to ask for. It was the only way to move on from the heartbreak that ensured all of the memories I used to promise myself I would never forget.
I opened up my laptop and turned it on, the familiar welcome sound ringing in my ears as the glare of the screen came to life. I opened up a Word document and watched as the cursor blinked on the screen, begging for me to press a key. Any key.
There was so much I wanted to say. I wished that I could write a letter that somehow eloquently screamed the feelings that were raging inside of me like a sea under gray skies. But I remembered this wasn’t that kind of letter, and this wasn’t that kind of story. Instead, I added the date and the proper header and proceeded to Google for how to write a professional resignation letter. Yes, a writer Googling how to write. Pathetic.
I spent the next hour typing, deleting, and re-typing a letter that explained why I was leaving the position, without really explaining anything at all. At least not the truth. I tied a few professional sounding words together in neatly packaged sentences, and hit the print button. I fell asleep to the sound of the whir of the printer as it spat out my final goodbye to the man I swore I could have loved one day. Or maybe already did.
I avoided the letter that sat in the printer tray until Monday morning came around because I didn’t want to rip it up, backing out of what I knew I had to do. Just as I was about to leave for work, I slipped it out of the tray, folding it in clean lines and slipping it in an envelope. It seemed like such a big thing to fit so neatly in a folded piece of white paper.
I stopped by the coffee shop, which was thankfully extra busy this morning, allowing me to avoid any small talk about Troy with the barista who seemed to worship him. Back at the office, I carried his usual iced Americano down the hallway, realizing this would be one of the last times. I had given the courtesy of a two weeks’ notice in my resignation, but every step I took down that fluorescently lit hallway felt like my last.
I stepped into Troy’s office and was surprised to see him sitting at his desk. I sucked in a quiet breath of air, but tried not to show the nerves rising to my throat. He looked tired, like he probably had gotten as much sleep as I had the past few nights. I refused to let myself think it was over me, and assured myself it was because Veronica kept him up. The thought made my nerves slip away, and coolness take their place.
“Monica,” he said softly as he saw me standing in the doorway.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice clipped.
I stepped forward and put his coffee on his desk.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Unless it’s about business, I’d rather not,” I said.
“Please. You have to know nothing is going on with Veronica.”
I let out a breathy laugh through my nose. He couldn’t really be trying to convince me otherwise. As if I had imagined Friday night with him carrying her clothes and her out of them.
“I’m serious,” he said pleadingly. “Yes, she was at my apartment, but it wasn’t under the circumstances she had you believe. It’s all a big game to her, and she tried to bring you into it because she was jealous.”
“Of what?” I shot him a sharp look. “We aren’t together. We never really were…” My voice drifted off as I looked down at the floor.
“We were ,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. I wondered if he even meant me to hear it, but it cracked my heart just the same.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I want nothing to do with Veronica. She’s practically stalking me.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew what a stalker looked like. What they did. I had experienced it. But then he went into detail about what his ex-wife had been doing, and I couldn’t help but have sympathy for him, especially when it came to being around his family. It was nowhere near what I had gone through, but it was not appropriate behavior.
“I’m sorry you’ve been going through that,” I said softly.
Though I had heard him out, I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry. I screwed everything up. I can’t forgive myself for how I lost you.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the envelope in my purse poke my inner arm. As if it were reminding me of what I was here to do. I tipped my chin in a solemn nod, as if I was gathering strength. I reached in my purse and pulled out the envelope, sliding it across his desk.
“What’s this?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
I stayed quiet, not knowing if I could get the words out. Not knowing if I could physically tell him I was leaving him. All of this. For good.
He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Part of me wanted to run, but my feet stayed planted as I watched his eyes scan the words I had typed. Once he was done, he put the letter down on his desk and looked up at me slowly.
“You’re leaving?” he asked quietly.
“I’m quitting, ” I corrected him.
“You can’t. Please, Monica. You can’t.”
“I have to. You know I do.”
“You don’t. We can make this work. We can make us work.”
“There is no us.”
He seemed to sit with that for a moment.
“Regardless of what we’ve been through, I need you. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. I need you. I could have lost everything after that meeting with Belleview, but you stepped in as the amazing person you are and saved my company. Saved me.”
“You can find someone else…”
“No, I can’t.”
He wasn’t making this easy.
“I’ll give you a raise.”
“I don’t want more money.”
“Please. Anything. I need you to stay. Even if you don’t want to be with me, I can’t lose you completely from my life.”
Though these words were too little too late, I let them penetrate my heart.