Page 28 of Marked

“What?” Rick said dumbly. “No. Mom’s not like that. She just has preferences, that’s all. This isn’t a huge deal, Cam.”

“If it’s not a big deal, then why the hell am I trying to change for you? Oh, wait, sorry. Why am I trying to change for your parents?” I huffed out a breath.

Rick laughed. Actually fucking laughed. A seething anger boiled up within me.

“Come on, Cameron. You’re being ridiculous. This isn’t something to get angry about. You need to go with the flow more. You want to make a good impression, don’t you? It’ll make things easier later on.”

Did I want to make a good impression? The thought slammed into me. Rick had pushed and cajoled and used his force of personality to almost bend me to his will and become his girlfriend. I’d allowed it because he was nice, stable, and easy to get along with. I’d allowed it because Rick would be a safe choice as a husband. Now I saw all the shit for what it was. I’d been blind to it all this time, and maybe the attack the other night had opened my eyes to the truth. I’d let myself get carried away by the idea of Rick rather than the actual person.

He was still talking, but I wasn’t listening. Instead, I stared at the wall of the empty office as I came to an earth-shattering conclusion. One that hurt, one that terrified me, but I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“We’re done, Rick,” I mumbled, cutting him off.

“What? You need to get back to work? We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

“That’s not what I mean. I do need to get back to work, but that isn’t what I’m talking about.”

I didn’t want to do this over the phone. It was the coward’s way out, but I also didn’t want to drag this out for several days.

“I mean, Rick, that this relationship is over. I can’t do this anymore. I’m obviously not what you and your family want, and I don’t know if you’re what I want.”

There was silence at the end of the line, and it went on for so long that I thought he’d hung up. When he finally spoke, he sounded like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Cam… you can’t mean that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Don’t, uh, don’t worry about your hair. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have said anything, It’s fine. Maybe you can just pull it back in a bun or something so Mom doesn’t?—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hissed. Any guilt I had evaporated. “This is over. We’re done, Rick. I’m not changing for you or your mother. I’ll figure out later how to get any stuff I have at your place. Right now, I’m going back to work.”

Before Rick could respond, I ended the call and stared at my phone. It felt strange. Somehow, it was like I’d done something right and liberating, but at the same time wrong and devastating. I’d broken up with my boyfriend, the guy I’d spent almost a year with, and for the last several months had imagined as my husband.

Now that was over. Done. I was single, and that sort of terrified me. Yet, it also made me feel good. It meant that I was free to do as I chose, but…

Had I been too hasty? Ever since that guy jumped me in the parking garage, my life had been turned upside down. I had a new perspective on things. Yet, that didn’t mean I couldn’t make mistakes.

Well, either way, what was done was done. I’d either regret it and get on with my life, or be relieved andstillget on with my life.

Heaving a weary sigh, I stepped out of the office and hurried back to my desk. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to talk to anyone. When I sat at my desk, I did very little work. I stared at my computer screen, debating the pros and cons of what I’d done for God only knew how long before I was interrupted.

“Here you go, chica. You look like you need this,” Megan, Brent’s secretary, said as she set a paper cup of coffee on my desk.

“Do I look that bad?” I asked.

She leaned on the cubicle and smiled sympathetically. “I’ve seen people look better after a night of pounding shots, honey.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I picked up the cup, every movement sluggish.

“Drink up. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

She walked away, leaving me to stare at the steaming cup of coffee. All I could think of was the acidic liquid pouring into my stomach. That didnothingto help my nausea. Pushing the cup to the edge of my desk, I tried my best to focus on my work and forget about Rick.

The article about the festival wasn’t working. For some reason, I couldn’t get the words out the way I wanted. Part of it, I was sure, was from the stress of having just broken up with my boyfriend. The rest was that everyone was being so freaking loud today. It seemed like everywhere I looked, people were crowding around my cubicle, chatting and laughing. It made my headache even worse. At that very moment, two women I didn’t even know had chosen my work area to chat about a date the night before.

“So, what was he like?” the blonde asked.

“He was cute and smart,” the redhead admitted. “But… I don’t know. There was no spark. Does that make sense?”

“Spark? You mean no fireworks?”

“Exactly,” the redhead said. “I didn’t get that tingle. No butterflies in my stomach. It was just, blah, you know?”

---