Chapter 40
Troy
I stared at the door that Monica had just walked out of and ran my hand through my hair in frustrated confusion. What the hell had just happened? When I had come up with a plan to win her back, this was not how I expected it to go.
I had come up with the plan last night after I had finished her novel. I thought since there were some similarities between the relationship in the book and ours, that it was kind of perfect. Both lost in the passion of being intimate, while keeping it a secret from the world. It was like she wrote us into existence. Though the couple didn’t end up together, I wanted Monica and I to have a different ending.
So I memorized the speech that she wrote in the book. The one where he tries to win her back. I thought if I recited it to her, she would understand that I was sincere in trying to get to know her. Her life. Her work. I wanted to know everything.
I also wanted to see if the style of seduction she wrote about would work on her. For a moment, I thought it might. She was so close. I could almost taste her and her caramel eyes were fixed on mine as our breathing fell into sync. I had dreamed of that moment for weeks on end. But then the moment was over and she was pushing me away, leaving like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
I sat down at my desk, a long sigh escaping me as I put my head in my hands. I went over the speech again, whispering it to myself. I wondered where I had gone wrong. She looked so upset. I couldn’t bear the thought that I had caused her more tears, and not knowing why was eating me alive.
I had to talk to her, but first, I needed to talk to my sister. Maybe she could give me some insight into what I did wrong. This was her genius idea, after all. I picked up my phone and dialed Erica’s number.
“Hello?” she answered groggily, picking up on the third ring.
“Are you asleep?” I asked in surprise, checking my watch. It was nearly ten.
“It’s my day off.”
“It’s Monday.”
“Yeah, well the printers are down again. We’re working from home.” She yawned.
“Can I come over?” I asked.
“Only if you bring me coffee.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Fine.”
“Vanilla latte. Sprinkle of cinnamon.”
“Yes, yes. I know. I’ll be there soon.”
I cleared my morning meetings myself, since Monica had left. I didn’t care what Kathy would say, and snuck out before she could lecture me. As if she was my boss. I stopped by the coffee shop on the way to Erica’s apartment. On the twenty-minute cab ride, I replayed the moment with Monica that had gone all wrong. I wanted to make sure I had it straight when I explained it to Erica. I hoped she could give me a woman’s insight.
Erica buzzed me in the three-story brick building and I took the stairs, as there was no elevator. Our places were vastly different. You would never guess she was the daughter of the Bryce Gunner, and she didn’t really like to announce it. She was always set on carving her own path, probably just to piss off him and his misogynistic ways.
I knocked on her door and listened to the slow shuffle of footsteps inside. She opened the door with a large comforter wrapped around her like an Eskimo, sleep still in her eyes.
“Aww, you didn’t have to dress up for me,” I said sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Gimme.”
I handed her the latte and she took a long sip.
“Thanks,” she said, nodding for me to follow her to the couch.
“So, what’s up?” she asked, tilting her head in the cocoon of the comforter.
“Your plan failed,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“I spent all weekend reading one of Monica’s books. She’s fantastic, by the way.”
“Duh,” said Erica smugly.
“I memorized one of the speeches from the book, and when I recited it to her today, she ran out on me.”
“Hmm…” Erica looked thoughtful. “What book was it?”
“Her most recent one. Losing You . Something like that.”
Erica began typing in her phone and her eyes scanned the screen.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
“What?” I sat up straighter.
She began reading from the screen.
“Losing You lost me. Worst book Durrall has ever written. Never should have read this book. Read this if you want to be depressed.”
I looked at Erica, confused.
“These are reviews of the book, Troy,” said Erica seriously, before her eyes went back to her phone screen. “And these are the nice ones, if you can believe it.”
I groaned as I slid my hands down my cheeks. I had chosen her worst reviewed book and recited it to her. I felt like a complete idiot. That book was probably the reason she didn’t write anymore, and I had just rubbed her failure in her face.
“You didn’t know,” said Erica, putting her hand on my back.
“Of all the books, that’s the one I chose to read first.”
“Why did you start with that one? You’re kind of supposed to start with the first book by an author.”
“I figured it was her most recent depiction of love. I wanted to get it right, as the woman and author she is now.”
“Makes sense,” Erica mused. “So, now what?”
“I have to go apologize. I have to make things right.” I stood from the couch and straightened my charcoal gray jacket. I had worn this suit today because I knew it was Monica’s favorite. She always used to compliment me whenever I wore it.
“Good luck,” said Erica as she stood and pulled me in for a hug. “I’m rooting for you two.”
I gave her a weak smile and headed out the door. On the cab ride to Monica’s apartment, I began putting together another speech. Not one I had memorized from a book, but my own. It was time to tell her what was in my heart. I just hoped it wasn’t too late.
As the cab pulled up to her building, I saw someone leaving her building. I quickly handed the cab driver a wad of cash and ran to catch the door. I climbed the stairs to her apartment and took a deep breath before knocking. I could hear quiet footsteps on the other side of the door and then silence as if she was just on the other side.
“Monica,” I said softly through the door. “It’s me. Please let me in.”
There was a pause and then I heard the locks of her door begin to click. I breathed a sigh of relief as her door opened and she stood before me.
Before she could say anything, I blurted out, “I’m so sorry, Monica.”
“For the flowers or your speech?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Flowers? What flowers?” I asked, confused. I had no idea what she was talking about or why anyone would apologize for flowers.
She searched my face for a moment before chewing the inside of her cheek. She looked deep in thought before shaking her head. “Never mind.”
I wanted to ask more about what she meant by the flowers, but I didn’t want to lose my train of thought. I didn’t want to fumble the words I had thought up on the drive.
“I had no idea about the book. I chose it because from all of the back covers I read, the story sounded most like us. And yes, I bought all your books. I plan to read them all because I think you’re fucking brilliant. And I want to know you. All of you.”
“Troy…” she said softly, her glassy eyes on mine, a tear falling down her cheek.
“Please, let me finish. I don’t care about what anyone says about that book. It was damn good. I spent all weekend reading it. I saw us in every single page. I saw you . Strong and beautiful and sexy and smart. But I don’t want the ending you gave them, clever as it was. I want our own ending. I want to be the man you dream of. The man who inspires you to write again.”
She began to cry harder, and I stepped forward, pulling her into my arms and holding her against my chest. God, I had missed her. I breathed her in as we stood in silence, my arms wrapped around her in the doorway of her apartment.
After a moment, she lifted her damp cheek from my chest and looked up at me.
“That was one hell of a speech,” she whispered.
I chuckled softly before leaning down to kiss her pillowy lips that I had been dreaming about. They were still salty from her tears. She put her hands around my neck and pulled me into her apartment. I kicked the door shut behind me as she led me to her couch. We fell onto it in a heap, and she let out a little squeal that made me laugh softly against her mouth.
I hovered over her as she looked up at me, her beautiful eyes no longer sad. I tucked a piece of her dark hair behind her ear and took her in. I spent a moment memorizing her face. I would never take this for granted again. I could not lose her.
“What is it?” she asked, reaching up and putting her hand on my cheek.
“Just you.”
She smiled before tucking her pouty bottom lip between her teeth. My eyes fell to her mouth. She knew what she was doing. I leaned down and grazed my teeth against her lip before gently tugging at it until it released. She let out a quiet whimper as my tongue ran across her parted lips, seeking an invitation. She obliged and I slipped inside her mouth, tasting her. She let out a quiet moan.
I felt that moan run through me like warm liquid and stop between my legs, waking me up. She must have felt it because she pulled away and looked at me with such intensity that I wanted to rip her clothes off right there. She pulled me in for another kiss, her mouth and tongue moving with such passionate intensity, her hands in my hair, pulling at it in desperation.
As I held myself above her with one hand, buried in the plush couch, the other moved down, tugging at the waistband of her skirt. She lifted her hips, helping me ease it off her, followed by her lace thong. Her hands reached for the clasp of my pants, our mouths never breaking apart. She quickly undid the zipper and pulled them down, my erection spilling out against her. We both wanted this now. There was no time for anything else.
I reluctantly pulled away from her kiss so I could see her face as I slipped inside her. She bit her lip in anticipation as I reached down and positioned myself against her. Her eyes never left mine as I pushed into her, a gasp escaping her mouth. I felt her tight warmth surround me. I was in utter ecstasy as I throbbed inside her. Her hands clawed at my jacket that I hadn’t bothered to take off as I pushed deeper into her until there was nowhere else to go. I let out a deep groan as I felt her pulse around me.
We lay there for a few seconds, reveling in the feeling of each other.
“More,” she whispered throatily, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise.
And I obliged, thrusting into her again and again, never wanting it to end.