Page 7 of Wild Love
My throat feels tight as Ryan jerks his head up in my direction. “Oh shit,” is the first thing he says, but there’s an edge of amusement to it. Like this is somehow funny.
“Yeah. Oh shit.”
Ryan straightens at my terse tone, finally looking concerned. “Do you think he meant to? Like, was it on purpose?”
The bridge of my nose stings at that being the first thing he asks. “Yes, it was very much on purpose.”
“Dang. Are you all right?” He puts the phone down and gives me his full attention, though I’m finding I wish he hadn’t. I thought I wanted his attention, but now I’m squirming under his gaze. Turns out this was easier to talk about without him staring at me.
I nod briskly, assuredly, to cover for the fact I don’t know if I actually am all right. “I told him I’m going to take it to HR, but they were gone already. So now I’m kinda gearing myself up to walk in there and let them know.”
He blows out a loud breath and shifts on his stool, placing a hand on my leg before saying the worst thing he’s ever said to me. “Shit, Rosie. I’m sorry. I know how important this job is to you. Do you think it might be better to pretend like it never happened? These big companies”—his fingersgraze my thigh before squeezing it, and I feel myself recoil from his touch—“they stay as far away from scandal as possible. And it’s still a relatively new position for you… I’d hate to see that jeopardized.”
I’m stunned into silence. I blink back at the man I’ve lived with for the past two years, a mixture of fury and devastation twisting inside of me.
My mouth moves and so does my body, but not in conjunction with what I feel inside. “Yeah. For sure. Wouldn’t want to jeopardize anything.”
I nod as I pat his hand, which is still on my leg. But I’m uncertain who’s reassuring who here.
All I know is that Ryan’s reaction isn’t what I wanted from him.
Which is why I take his hand and remove it from my body.
“I’m glad you agree. I think I’d just carry on with my work if I were you.”
If I were you.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can muster as I pull away from him.
“I know, babe. I know.” He tries to squeeze my shoulder reassuringly and a wave of discomfort washes over me. I don’t want to be touched. “Once you’ve been working in the industry as long as I have, you’ll learn we have to look past some things if we want to be successful.”
In response, I scoff and make an internal note to look past sexual harassment in the future. It’s an especially obnoxious sentiment coming from someone who was out all night getting wined and dined by the bigwigs at his company. Iknow Ryan thinks what he just said is well-meaning and supportive, but it makes me want to punch him square in the face.
Sweet, professional, MBA-toting Rosie Belmont doesn’t hit people though, so I swallow the urge and mumble, “Thanks,” before walking away.
The disparity between our experiences is a lance through my heart, but not one I necessarily want to take out on Ryan at this moment. I can’t afford to be reckless.
But the fact he doesn’t even seem upset? That smarts.
I didn’t need someone to go in there and beat the shit out of Stan, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t have liked it. It might have been nice to feel like the man I share my life with has my back. That he’d defend my honor—lame and old-fashioned as that might sound. Even the tiniest spark of ferocity over my safety, the injustice of it all, would have sufficed.
Hell, I’d have settled for a hug.
I get neither.
When I go to leave later that morning, Ryan offers me a thumbs-up and says, “Go get ’em, tiger,” from behind the glass shower door.
I feel sick on the train the entire way to work.
I begin to shake on the elevator ride up to our floor.
I keep my eyes down, knowing that if I can just make it to the privacy of my tiny office, I’ll be able to regain my composure behind a closed door.
But I’m intercepted by Linda from HR. She has an apologetic expression painted all over her face before any wordseven crest her lips. “Good morning, Rosalie. Once you’re settled, can you come to my office?”
“Yes, of course.” My voice cracks as I nod.
We exchange matching forced smiles, but when I turn away from her, a big, fat tear rolls down my cheek. Because I know exactly what’s coming.
