Page 4 of Strictly Business

This is a terrible idea and only going to cause more problems. It definitely won’t help fix things and it won’t make me feel better. But, his mouth is moving in the right direction and… “Stop.”

David freezes. “What do you mean stop?”

“We’re not doing this.” I shove him to the other side of the bed. “Get out.” I fold my arms over my chest refusing to look at him. I should’ve stopped him when he kissed me. But, I…I miss him. No matter what happened, I love loved him and it has been hard to let go. For the past two months, I’ve been telling myself I don’t love him, I can’t love him because he isn’t mine anymore. Looking back, I’m not sure he has been for a while. Even if I thought there had been a chance of saving this, coming home from Italy to divorce papers made it clear there wasn’t. It only reaffirmed he had gone to Italy intending to tell me it was over and there was nothing I could’ve done to stop it. We spent almost two weeks together on a romantic getaway only for him to end our marriage on the last night there. Tonight is a reminder I have to let go.

David scoffs and readjusts himself before pulling the hair trimmers from the box he’d been packing. He tosses them on the dresser — the clatter sending a shock wave through my system — and stops in the doorway. “I’m done playing these petty games of yours, MJ. Sell the condo and hand over the ring.” My thumb absentmindedly traces over my left ring finger — the indentation still there. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. Do us both a favor and stop being so difficult for once in your life. I’m ready for this to be done and over with.”

The way he talks about us breaks my heart all over again. I’m ready for this to be done and over with as if we meant nothing to him. As if our relationship (our marriage) — and ending it — was another task on his to-do list he’s been putting off.

I cringe when the front door slams and make a mental note to call a locksmith.

Bright red numbers glare in my face — 7:47 AM — I have exactly thirteen minutes to get ready and leave for the office. The room begins to spin, a blur of orange and cream and green, and a wave of nausea floods my senses when I sit up. I want nothing more than to call Caitlin and tell her I won't be in today, that I must've picked up a stomach bug. But, if I do that, Nina won't have to wait a month for me to get my act together, she'll fire me on the spot. So, I better show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on time today.

"Fuck," I groan. We have a big meeting this morning and I have no idea how I’m going to get through it. After David left, I spent the night hugging a bottle of white wine on an (almost) empty stomach. When I finally dragged myself to bed, I had three hours until my alarm was set to go off. Admittedly, probably not my best idea.

Coffee.

I need coffee.

And ibuprofen.

Maybe some Gatorade.

Definitely some food. Something greasy to soak up the remnants of last night.

The sun casts a bright light through the condo — not good for a walking hangover — which means today is a glasses, no contacts, kind of day. The empty wine bottle sits on the white coffee table next to a vase of dehydrated daisies, mocking me. The TV still binges “The Office” and my black knitted blanket is strewn on the floor. The comfy scene calls to me, it sounds so much better than a boring meeting with… Who are we meeting today? I don’t even remember. Nina was the one who set it up last week.

“Be on your best behavior,” she had warned me when she called about it. How happy is she gonna be when I walk in today?

I push forward. There is no way I can miss this.

Hot water dribbles into the coffee pot, and I breathe in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, trying to suppress the nausea still crawling at the back of my throat. A glance at the clock tells me I have six minutes before I need to leave. God help me, today is going to be a long day.

The shades of Nina’s office are drawn per usual making it impossible to determine if she’s gone or ignoring the knocking on her door. Bella had pulled me from my meeting with Nina to handle a vendor issue and it took longer than expected, which meant Nina had to end the meeting with the Adlers. I have no idea what happened. I knock one final time before opening the door to an empty office. Well, at least I know she’s not ignoring me.

Closing the door, all eyes quickly avert their gaze. I subtly check myself — everything is in place. The hushed conversations make it seem like everyone is trying to be respectful of their colleagues, but it’s pretty obvious the chatter is not about work. What in the hell is everyone talking about? If one more person looks at me like that, I’m going to…

“If you all have something to say, go ahead and say it,” I snap when I catch the eye of an intern before she quickly looks away. "If not, I suggest you get back to work. And, if you don’t have something to do, let me know — we have plenty of work that needs to be done.”

The silence is deafening.

“Okay, everyone.” Cait steps out of her office. “Enough. Let’s get back to work.” For a brief moment, they stare at her before returning to work. She gives me a smile and motions me toward my office.

“What is their problem?” I hiss.

“You really want to know?” Caitlin asks closing the door, and I wait expectantly. “Bella told a few of them about the little disagreement she walked in on yesterday, between you and Nina.”

Shit.

“I guess everyone thinks you’re on shaky ground. I mean, can you blame them? If it were one of them, they would’ve been fired a long time ago.” She’s not wrong. Nina has given me a few too many chances, and it’s finally catching up with me. “You’re a good boss, Mic. You need a little more structure.”

“I’m working on it, Cait. A lot is going on right now, but I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

“Who’s that for?” I motion toward the stack of samples in her hands.

“Grace. I want to get ahead on some of these projects, so everything is a little less hectic while you’re gone.”

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