Chapter 38
Troy
A s the conference wrapped up, I was still thinking about Monica and how things between us felt different today. Good different. Despite her trying to quit this morning, the day turned around. She had looked at me in a way that closely resembled the glances that once knocked the air out of me. We didn’t just talk in clipped sentences. She had helped me write a speech that blew my father’s out of the water, and she had sweetly put him in his place when he tried to tear me down. It meant more than she knew.
It had taken everything In me not to pull her in for a hug to celebrate the expression my father wore on his face after delivering my speech. I opted for an awkward handshake, and I could still feel the warmth of her hand in mine. I wished she hadn’t left. I knew I could have asked her to stay. She was my assistant. It wouldn’t be out of the norm. But I didn’t want to press my luck. I smiled as I softly rubbed the tips of my fingers together, trying to hold on to the feeling.
“Are you coming?” said a voice, breaking me from my thoughts.
I looked up and saw Jeremy standing over me. The conference must have ended because everyone was out of their seats and heading for the doors. I hadn’t even noticed. I had checked out as soon as Monica asked if she could leave, my mind leaving with her.
“Huh?” I asked.
“A bunch of us are going out for dinner and drinks. You coming or not?” He raised an eyebrow.
I didn’t exactly want to spend my Friday night with Jeremy, but it would be better than being alone, my thoughts festering, knowing I wouldn’t be seeing Monica for a few days. The weekends I used to yearn for, I now hated.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, standing from my seat.
Jeremy and I walked toward the doors, following the herd of businessmen in their suits and ties down the stairs. We stopped by the coat check to get our coats to face the snow that was flurrying outside. I shrugged mine on and followed Jeremy and a few others out to the sidewalk where a limo waited. I looked at him, confused.
“Oh, your father is coming, too,” said Jeremy with a knowing smile.
Fuck. An evening alone now sounded better than this.
Jeremy opened the door and slid inside the dimly lit limo that was already lined with rows of suits, my father at the center. I followed Jeremy into the lion’s den, closing the door behind me.
“Well, well, well,” my father’s voice boomed. “If it isn’t the man of the hour.”
“Hey, Dad,” I said, as I found an empty seat across from him.
“Who knew you had such eloquent words in your vocabulary. Maybe all the money we poured into your schooling is finally paying off.”
There were a few chuckles around the limo, all eager to impress the man they were in awe of. I fought to not roll my eyes at how obvious they were in trying to suck up to my father. I remembered trying to do the same years ago, until I realized my father would never take pride in me. A hard lesson to learn at a young age. One that stuck with you.
“That must be it,” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
“Where’s your little plaything?” my father asked, looking around the limo.
“My personal assistant went home.”
“You always pull the hottest pAs. I swear. The tits on that one…” interrupted one guy, shaking his head as if replaying a mental image he must have snapped of her. He worked for my father, but I couldn’t remember his name, and now I had no interest in knowing it after the way he talked about Monica. Like she was a piece of meat. I would mentally refer to him as Jerk for the rest of the night.
“There’s something about her,” said Jeremy thoughtfully. “She looks so familiar. I have been trying to put my finger on where I’ve seen her before.”
My stomach sank as I remembered the night at the bar when I had met Monica. Jeremy was there. He had seen us leave together. I hoped he had enough drinks that night to blur his memory to my advantage. If it all clicked right now, he would out me here in front of my father.
“Well, she’s worked with me for a while now,” I said with a shrug.
Jeremy didn’t look entirely convinced, but he moved on from the subject and struck up a conversation with the jerk next to him who had my blood boiling slightly from how he talked about Monica. I hoped she wouldn’t come up again for the rest of the evening.
We ended up at Eleven Madison Park, where my father secured us a private room by slipping the hostess a couple hundred dollars. I made sure to sit on the far end of the table, away from him and Jeremy, trying to make small talk about things that held little interest to me with the others around me.
As I sipped on my old fashioned, which was my only saving grace in this shitty situation that I didn’t know why I agreed to, I looked around the room. Everyone’s voices droned on about work, and they began blurring together to look like mindless clones who laughed too hard at my father’s jokes and hung on his every word, as if his success would somehow bleed into them.
My phone pinged in my pocket, and my heart skipped, thinking maybe it was Monica. I pulled it from my pocket and frowned slightly. It wasn’t her. Of course, it wasn’t. Instead, it was Erica: Any ideas yet?
Me: On what?
Erica: On how to win Monica back…duh.
Me: Nope. And now I’m stuck at this dull dinner with dad and his loyal clan of worshipers.
Erica: Yikes.
Me: I know. Did you think of anything?
Erica: No, but maybe Monica has some ideas.
Me: What?
I was confused by what she meant.
Erica: She’s a romance writer. Read one of her books. Maybe it will inspire you. You can see what her version of a relationship looks like.
Of course. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of that. I suddenly felt guilty for never picking up one of Monica’s books. It was just whenever we talked about her writing, she never really wanted to get into it. I never pressed her on it. There were things I didn’t want to get into either. We both had our things.
Me: You’re a genius.
Erica: I know.
Me: I’ll go to the bookstore tomorrow. Thanks, sis.
Erica: Take a picture while you’re there.
Me: Why?
Erica: Because I can’t imagine you in a bookstore.
Me: Ha ha. Goodbye.
Erica: Good luck, bro.
I smiled and looked at my phone before sliding it back into the pocket of my jacket. I felt a little less hopeless than I had in a while. Maybe there was a chance I could win Monica back, and she would inadvertently show me exactly how to do it.
“What are you smiling at?” asked the jerk who sat across from me. “Ooooh, did that PA text you something naughty?”
My smile quickly disappeared from my face.
“What?” he asked innocently. “Don’t act like you haven’t fucked every PA who’s gone through your office. Maybe you could send her my way when you’re done with her.”
I felt my face start to burn with an anger that started in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to reach across the table and grab him by the collar, but I knew I couldn’t make a scene. Not in front of my father. I leaned forward as if I was going to tell him a secret, and he eagerly leaned in too.
“If you ever talk about her like that again, I will shove my fist so far into your face that you won’t see straight,” I whispered.
He pulled back, his face grim and white as the color faded. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Jeremy did too. There was no other mention of Monica or where he knew her from. The only thing I had to put up with was my father’s snide remarks he so often tossed my way, clearly still not over how I showed him up at the conference earlier. I owed Monica big time.
The next morning, I woke up and immediately headed to the bookstore, not bothering with breakfast or coffee. I was too eager to know more about Monica through the pages of her books. Inside the bookstore, I asked one of the sales associates to point me in the direction of the romance section. She looked slightly amused as she led me to my destination. I thanked her and began scanning the shelves for Monica’s name.
My finger stopped on Durrall and continued moving across a row of books with pastel-colored spines, all with her name on it. My eyes widened slightly as I realized how many books she had. She was the real deal. An established author. I wondered why she was working for me when she had built this success for herself. I grabbed a copy of every single book of hers and built a pile in the crook of my arm. I balanced the books as I walked to the register and paid the same sales associate who found me so amusing before.
“Big fan?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she scanned each book.
“You could say that,” I replied.
“You know…it’s not every day you see a guy practically buy out the entire romance section.”
“What can I say? I love love. ” I shrugged.
She laughed softly as she packed up my books and handed me the heavy paper bag.
“Enjoy, Romeo,” she said.
I spent the next two days on my couch, sipping on coffee and reading her latest book as the city turned white with snow. I couldn’t remember the last time I had read a book, and it most certainly wasn’t a romance novel. But the more I read, the more I realized Monica was an incredible writer. Erica had been right about her. Her words flowed off the page effortlessly as she built a story of two people and the passions and complexities of their relationship. It felt like I was getting to know her in a new way. Like I was getting closer to her with every word I read.
As I read, I wondered if these stories she made up in her head were what she longed for in her own life. I didn’t let myself believe they were inspired by her own relationships because my jealousy would get the best of me. Especially in the parts she wrote about sex. I was surprised and completely sucked in by a few raunchy scenes in her novel. I didn’t know reading could get me aroused, but I was turned on knowing her mind worked that way. I imagined it was us as I read her filthy words on the page.
There were certainly a few scenes that I would like to reenact with her. I paid particular attention to how she portrayed the male seducing the female lead. I wondered if that was what she wanted. If that was how she wanted to be seduced. I reread those pages several times, making a few mental notes.
By Sunday evening, I had finished her novel. I had never read a book that fast, but it was so enjoyable, I could hardly put it down. The only thing that threw me off was the ending. The couple didn’t end up together. I figured most romance novels had happy endings, but I liked the unexpectedness of it. It was different. Though it wasn’t the ending I wanted for us.
Despite the novel not having a happy ending, I was determined to have mine. Ours. A plan began to form in my head. I just hoped it would work.