“You don't have to say you love me, I just wanna tell you something, lately you've been on my mind,” I sang to Carmine as I entered my favorite Starbucks.
His bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Wow, I don't think I know that one.”
“Come on, Carmine,” I urged as I leaned on the counter. “You can't just give up without giving it a try. Come on.”
“Ok. Let's see. That sounds really romantic, so, Bruno Mars?”
“What? No! Harry Styles, bitch.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “I wasn't even close.”
“Adore You. One of my personal favorites.”
Carmine nodded again. “So, where you been, Alex? I haven't seen you in a while, thought you started getting your coffee someplace else,” he drummed his slender fingers on the table and nervously looked around.
“I wouldn't dream of it. Who else can put up with me and my random song lyrics every single morning?” I was happy when Carmine's face stretched into a smile. “I was actually out of town.”
“Oh yeah? Work?” He placed his elbows on the counter. “I've always wondered what it's like working up there,” he gestured toward Miller Tower in the distance.
“It's not everything its cracked up to be.” Trust me.
“I'm sure it's not that bad.” He took one look at my face and reconsidered adding anything else. “So, regular?”
I massaged my forehead. The throb under my left eyebrow that I had woken with hadn't ebbed even a little bit. “Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk for a while.”
His brown eyes widened as I finally took a stool. Seeing as how it was still early the coffee shop was devoid of customers.
I was dreading going to work today seeing as how I had spent my weekend too choked up with guilt to set foot outside my house. I couldn't even go to the shelter and disappointing my dog and those women added to my burden.
“Sure, what's bothering you?”
I took out my earbuds out and faced him completely. I didn't even know where to start. I didn't even know which of the bad things I'd done to say first.
The way I'd abruptly left Orlando came back to me and I felt another twinge of sorrow twist my gut.
I hadn't meant to leave, I was prepared to go to that party and forget everything else and just be with Carson but I took one look at his irked — albeit unbelieveably cute — face up on the stage and I knew that as unreasonably jerky as he was he deserved better than me.
Better than a woman who still carried the scars of abuse and who knew nothing but pain.
Looking up at that brightly lit stage I decided it would be better to just disappear because I was sure if I stopped to say goodbye Carson and his very attractive eyes would find a way to convince me otherwise.
He would move on eventually, I told myself. Find someone who truly deserved him because I was far from worthy.
I had anticipated how hard it would be but I had no idea it would be that hard.
It wasn't long before I started sobbing in the cab on the way to my hotel.
I cried because I would never be ok, because I was too damaged, because I just had to have feelings for the one man I could never get. And ultimately because I was now in a situation I swore I would never be in again: crying over a man.
It was then that I decided I was going to give Butterfly a break. Because my delusions of safety from hurt behind a mask had been completely shattered.
I sighed and scratched a spot on my greasy scalp. I had been too stricken to wash it. “I have a hypothetical scenario to run by you. So say, hypothetically, you went as someone else to a bar and you met someone and you really liked that person so you decide to keep seeing them as that other person. Let's just say, hypothetically still, that you have feelings for this person and this person likes you back because they think you're someone else, do you think it's a good idea to come clean even when they would most definitely hate you for deceiving them?”
“Woah, woah, slow down. Too many details to follow. Take it easy. Why don't you start at the beginning?”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“I met this guy at a bar and I wasn't exactly honest about who I was.”
“What, like you gave him a fake name?”
“Yes! Exactly,” I agreed, even though that was just the tip of the iceberg. “I had no idea that I would end up liking him as much as I do. He likes me back, at least I want to believe he does, the problem is he thinks I'm someone else and I don't know whether to let him keep believing that or come clean.”
“I think it's pretty obvious what you should do.”
I frowned my displeasure at him.
If it were so obvious I would not be here asking for advice from you.
“You should tell him the truth.”
That was the answer I was dreading.
I knew I should, any sane human being would, but the prospect of just walking away and disappearing from his life was too good to casually dismiss. That way he could go on thinking that maybe I was some hot supermodel instead of his scruffy assistant.
“Or, I could just avoid him completely and move to Mexico.”
“Why? You're awesome and I'm sure if you explain how it was all a misunderstanding he'd forgive you, if he likes you as much as you think he does.”
Of course I had imagined that. That I would tell him who I really was and he wouldn't fly into a rage or hate me. He'd just accept me and forgive me for putting him through all the deception.
As appealing as the thought was it would never happen. With other men, maybe, but not Carson Miller.
“There, there, let me get you your coffee. It'll cheer you up,” Carmine patted my shoulder and turned to start on my order.
• • •
It was half an hour past noon and Carson still hadn't shown up to work.
I had tried calling his home phone but all my calls had gone unanswered.
Since he was prone to losing his personal phone and changing his number frequently so vengeful ex-girlfriends couldn't reach him, I didn't have any way to reach him.
Once it had hit one o'clock my concern had turned into full-blown worry.
Carson was never late and I feared that something was wrong.
At this point I was pacing my tiny office toying with the idea of texting him as Butterfly because I knew I would get an instant answer.
My hurried departure on Friday gnawed at me. What if he had gave into his anger and gotten himself into trouble? I would never forgive myself.
To distract myself from the guilt I checked his office again. The lavish working space was still empty and I huffed.
Marching outside I splayed myself on the gleaming marble countertop that was Willow's desk. I knew it was unprofessional but I was feeling too many things to care.
“Ok, what is it?” My friend asked above me.
Raising my head I stared right into her grey eyes. Her grey hair was cut in a straight bob that lightly touched the black blouse she had on.
“I'm a horrible person, Willie,” I drew my hands up and massaged my eyes.
“For calling me that? Yes, yes you are. And for also abandoning me on . . .”
“I slept with Carson.”
Willow abruptly stopped talking and her jaw visibly slackened. “Come again.”
I straightened. “The reason I haven't been around is because I went for this job in Orlando and Carson came with me and well, one thing led to another and we had sex.”
Thinking about that night made me so giddy I could swear there were wings attached to my feet.
I hadn't intended for it to go that far but as soon as he put his hand on my face and gave me that alluring look all my restraint flew out of the window and I just had to have him.
It had been forever since I had gotten any action and all my repressed feelings came out multiplied by a thousand.
“You did what?”
“I know, it was stupid and now I think I'm the reason he hasn't shown up today.”
“Forget about why he isn't here,” Willow leaned forward conspiratorially. “How was it? Was it as good as the bimbos he sleeps with make it seem?”
Blood rushed into my cheeks. “Hey, I slept with him, I'm not a bimbo.”
“Of course not, but you still haven't answered the question.”
“It was good,” I admitted unashamedly, leaning foward to meet her across the desk. “It was very good. I think I may have been ruined for other men.”
The only other guy I had slept with was Owen and compared to his selfish and hasty lovemaking Carson was a massive step-up.
“You go girl!” She gave me a high-five.
“That's not the point, Willow. I think I might be the reason he's not here.”
I told her everything that had happened over the weekend.
“So?” She asked by the end of it. “You left him without a goodbye, it's not like he doesn't do that on a regular, why are you feeling guilty? You did what you thought was best and you need to own it girl. He's a big boy, I'm sure he'll be fine.”
I bit my lip and thought. I knew I shouldn't have any guilt over what he would've done to me once he was bored with me but I couldn't help it. Somehow I knew he was being genuine and he wouldn't have dumped me just like that. That made it all the more hard for me.
“Speak of the devil and he will appear,” Willow muttered under her breath and turned to the computer in front of her. As I watched she started tapping away at the keys with her long, grey acrylic nails.
I was about to ask what she meant when the voice that was permanently stuck in my head because I had moaned to it not long ago sounded out and I involuntarily froze.
“Hold all my calls, Willow. Alex, can I see you in my office for a moment?”
Without even looking I knew it was Carson because as he walked by that tantalizing combination of sandalwood and musk hit me.
My heart rate picked up and I shot Willow an alarmed look.
“He doesn't know about me, right? He doesn't sound like he knows, right?”
She looked to make sure Carson wasn't around before she replied, “I'm not sure, but I don't think so. He's always pissed about something, you should go in and do some damage control before he takes it out on some random employee, and by random employee I mean me.”
She shooed me and I turned toward Carson's office.
In the short walk to the office I tried to still my heart.
He doesn't know. He doesn't know.
I wasn't ready for that conversation. I wasn't yet ready for him to see the real me in daylight.
I turned the doorknob, swallowed my extra saliva and entered.
Closing the door behind me I found Carson in the process of draping his suit jacket at the back of his chair.
“Before you say anything,” I started. “do you think cows that can't produce milk should be called milk duds or udder failures? Because personally . . .”
“Cut the fucking crap, Alexandra,” was his pointed reply as he took his seat and leaned back on the chair.
“Oh God, the full name,” I muttered under my breath.
He knows. He definitely knows.
In all the time I've worked for him Miss Holdman had been the most irate he'd been with me. Alexandra was a whole new level and I knew I was screwed.
“Before you say anything,” I walked up to his desk. “I just wanna say I'm sorry. It was never my intention to start . . .”
“Woah, woah, woah. What are you talking about? Start what?” His confusion was written over every bone in his strong face.
It was obvious that he had no clue what I was referring to. My secret was safe, for now. I didn't know why a part of me felt crushed by this. Maybe deep down I just wanted him to figure it out so I didn't have to hide the fact that I wanted nothing more than to kiss him and lose my fingers in the thick, wavy forest of his hair.
“Nothing,” I replied.
“God, I don't even know what goes on in your head,” he rubbed his face and mussed up his shiny hair. For the first time I realized he looked tired.
There were dark circles under his eyes and the light stubble he usually sported had increased significantly.
Sitting before me was not the put-together, stoic, Carson Miller that ran this office. He looked, for want of a better word and because that was the only word that popped into my head, frazzled.
And I knew it was because of me.
“I got you some coffee in the morning,” I gestured to the brown styrofoam cup sitting alone on his ornate desk and twisted my fingers together. “but it's cold now, I could probably reheat it in the microwave in the Rec Room if you want?”
“No, what I want is for you to
get Big Mac over here.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Big Mac? What do you need your private investigator for?”
“I need to find someone,” he leaned back and steepled his fingers.
I gulped.
I'm in trouble.