Chapter 42
Troy
T he sun had just set and the sky was beginning to turn various shades of purple. The city lights were warm in contrast as they grew more vibrant against the darkening sky. I took a sip of wine and looked out over the view. Out the window where Monica and I had first been together. I placed my hand on the window and smiled, knowing she would be here soon. Knowing how different things were now.
Yesterday, while it had started out rocky, had turned everything around for us. We loved each other, and realized we had for a while. All the other mess just seemed to fade away once those words were spoken. Once other words were spoken. We had finally talked. Really talked.
Turned out she wasn’t so different from me with her own pressures from her family and not feeling good enough. I just wished she could see what I saw. Pure talent and ambition. She was stronger than me for carving her own path and I admired the hell out of her for it. In some ways, she reminded me of my sister. My best friend. Which was probably why I liked her so much.
Besides that, she was strong. Much stronger than she should ever have to be for dealing with a stalker. I couldn’t believe what she had been through when she told me about the guy. I made sure to ask more questions later, just in case he ever came around again. I wanted to be ready. To protect her. And I promised her that. She tried to ease my worries, but I could see a little fear in her eyes. She was trying to be strong. Always trying to be strong.
It was not easy leaving Monica’s place this morning. I was fully ready to take another personal day if it meant staying in bed with her all day, only coming up for air when it was absolutely necessary. But being the professional she was, she insisted we go back to work before anyone suspected anything. I knew I had to face the wrath of Kathy, and probably my father, for skipping work and calling off meetings.
I knew I was in a position I didn’t deserve to have, and would probably soon lose if I continued the way I had been. But I didn’t think it would be such a loss. I just needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was almost forty years old, and the idea of starting over was ridiculous, but exciting. Now that Monica was back in my life, I felt like anything was possible. I knew she would understand me wanting to step away from this world and she would be with me every step of the way.
Today at work hadn’t felt as torturous as I thought it might be on the drive from her place back to Manhattan. We worked alongside each other and I didn’t feel like I was going to spontaneously combust if I didn’t touch her. I knew I would see her later. I knew we had time. In the past, there had always been this desperation between us. This secretive passion we had to diffuse when we were together. Now, it felt like we could just be. We had all the time in the world.
Don’t get me wrong. I still resisted the urge to kiss her a few times and it was difficult for me to concentrate when I was imagining her naked. But I knew I had tonight with her. She was coming over for dinner and to stay the night. I told her to pack her overnight things.
“Like a slumber party?” she had whispered in the elevator with a small smirk.
“ Exactly like a slumber party.” I gave her a quick pat on the behind.
A romantic sleepover with a home-cooked dinner by me. I had gone to the store after work for everything I needed. Pork chops, potatoes, salad, a bottle of vintage champagne. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I wanted to make it special. I wanted it to feel like a proper date, which we had never been on. We had gone to plenty of dinners and lunches, but had to put on a show that it was for business in case anyone saw. They hadn’t seen what went on under the table linens, but still. She deserved a proper date.
I couldn’t wait for the day I could take her out and show her off to the world. But for now, my penthouse or her place would have to do, until we figured everything out. I dimmed the lights and turned on some light jazz music as I started prepping in the kitchen. I was following a recipe from The Food Network that had so many steps my head was spinning. The potatoes were in the oven and now I had to start on the pork chops. I had just seasoned them and placed them in the skillet when I heard the elevator doors ding.
“You’re early,” I called from the kitchen.
I checked my watch. Monica wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and walked out into the living room where I saw Veronica by the corner bar helping herself to a glass of bourbon.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked sharply.
She turned her head slightly, her strawberry-blonde hair covering half of her face as she took a sip of the amber liquid. Her lips curved into a smirk that made me uneasy.
“Nice to see you too, baby,” she purred.
“You need to leave.”
She ignored me as she went and sat in one of the large armchairs next to the couch, clutching the cream-colored trench coat she wore.
“Smells good in here,” she said. “Are you cooking?
“I’m not going to ask you again.” I crossed my arms.
“Oh, Troy,” she said, gazing at me as she slowly spread her legs, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath. She put her bare feet on the coffee table in front of her, angling herself toward me.
“Goddamn it, Veronica.” I averted my gaze. “Why are you like this?”
“You used to like this.” She moved her hand between her legs, watching for a reaction.
“Used to. But you can’t take a hint.”
“ Touch me, ” she whispered. “You know you want to.”
She dipped a finger slowly inside herself and laid her head back against the back of the chair. I felt sick to my stomach.
“I wouldn’t touch you again if my life depended on it,” I spat.
I pulled my phone out from my pocket and dialed down to the front desk.
“I need security up here. Stat,” I said urgently.
“Are you fucking serious?” asked Veronica, snapping her legs shut and clutching her coat.
“Maybe now you’ll get it. I want nothing to do with you.”
A moment later, the elevator doors opened and two security guards came rushing in.
“Get her out of here.” I nodded to Veronica.
They went and gently grabbed her arms, lifting her up from the armchair she sat in.
“Get the hell off me!” she screamed and began to fight. “Don’t touch me!”
They tightened their grip and began dragging her toward the elevator doors. She yelled obscenities at them before yelling at me.
“You’re going to regret this! You are going to regret turning me down!” Her voice was shrill, and soon cut off by the elevator doors closing.
I let out a deep breath through my lips as I plopped down on the couch and put my head in my hands. What a disaster. I couldn’t believe she had shown up here like that. She was starting to become more desperate. I don’t remember her ever being like this when we were together. She was not the woman I used to know.
I suddenly smelled smoke coming from the kitchen.
“Shit!” I said, standing up suddenly and running toward the gray smoke that was now trickling into the living room.
The pork chops were black on one side as I pulled the skillet from the burner, the handle of the pan burning my hand. I let out a cry of pain before throwing the pan in the sink and running water over the palm of my hand. Steam and smoke now filled the air. I could barely see.
“Everything okay in here?” asked a voice.
I looked up and squinted through the haze to see Monica standing in the doorway. I shut the water off and wrapped my hand in a towel.
“Things are going just fine,” I groaned, holding my hand and wincing slightly.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked worriedly, gently unfolding it from the towel. “You hurt yourself!”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I waved her off.
She placed her lips on my palm and I gave her a weak smile.
“You did all of this for me?”
“I wanted it to be special. But I’m not much of a cook. Clearly.” I looked around the mess in the kitchen. Potato peelings on the counter. Sauce splattered on the white quartz countertop. The burned pork chops in the sink.
“Why don’t I clean up? You go take care of that hand of yours.”
“But what about dinner?”
“I’m going to order pizza.”
“Pizza?” I asked, defeated. Not because it didn’t sound good, but because this night had gone much differently than I expected.
“Yes, pizza.” She nudged me. “I’ve been living in your world for months now. Maybe it’s time you experience life from my perspective.”
“Okay. Fair enough,” I replied, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the lips.
I turned to head to the bathroom to put some ointment on my hand.
“There’s potatoes in the oven,” I called over my shoulder. “They’re probably burnt.”
“I’m on it.” She giggled.
Only Monica could make this disaster of a night better. That’s why I loved her.
When I came back to the kitchen, she was just finishing wiping the counters. The smoke had dissipated and there was no sign of the disastrous food I had tried to cook.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my arms around her.
“Of course,” she said, tilting her head back in the crook of my neck.
“I did get champagne,” I said, pointing to the bottle on ice.
“Well, let’s have some.”
I popped the cork with my left hand and filled two glasses. I held my glass up and she did the same.
“To our first official date,” I said.
She smiled and clinked her glass to mine before taking a sip. She made a face before quickly trying to hide it.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head.
I watched her curiously as I took a sip. I grimaced as the champagne ran down my throat. It tasted awful. It was flat and had a weird tang.
“Gross!” I said, looking at my glass and inspected it. “It was supposed to be vintage.”
“Maybe it’s too vintage.” She giggled and put her hand over her mouth.
I couldn’t help but laugh. This night couldn’t get any worse, but somehow it was just right. Monica wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. I so easily got lost in her. I had almost forgotten all about the fire in my kitchen or Veronica showing up here and being hauled off by security.
Monica pulled away and leaned her forehead against mine. “I’ll order beer with that pizza.”
It ended up being the best first date I had ever had. We moved the giant coffee table in my living room and lay down a large blanket to set up our picnic pizza and beer. We ate off paper plates and drank straight from the can, watching movies and laughing our asses off. This beat any fancy dinner and expensive bottle of champagne.