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I stopped by the coffee shop, which was thankfully extra busy this morning, allowing me to avoid any small talk about Troy with the barista who seemed to worship him. Back at the office, I carried his usual iced Americano down the hallway, realizing this would be one of the last times. I had given the courtesy of a two weeks’ notice in my resignation, but every step I took down that fluorescently lit hallway felt like my last.
I stepped into Troy’s office and was surprised to see him sitting at his desk. I sucked in a quiet breath of air, but tried not to show the nerves rising to my throat. He looked tired, like he probably had gotten as much sleep as I had the past few nights. I refused to let myself think it was over me, and assured myself it was because Veronica kept him up. The thought made my nerves slip away, and coolness take their place.
“Monica,” he said softly as he saw me standing in the doorway.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice clipped.
I stepped forward and put his coffee on his desk.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Unless it’s about business, I’d rather not,” I said.
“Please. You have to know nothing is going on with Veronica.”
I let out a breathy laugh through my nose. He couldn’t really be trying to convince me otherwise. As if I had imagined Friday night with him carrying her clothes and her out of them.
“I’m serious,” he said pleadingly. “Yes, she was at my apartment, but it wasn’t under the circumstances she had you believe. It’s all a big game to her, and she tried to bring you into it because she was jealous.”
“Of what?” I shot him a sharp look. “We aren’t together. We never really were…” My voice drifted off as I looked down at the floor.
“Wewere,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. I wondered if he even meant me to hear it, but it cracked my heart just the same.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I want nothing to do with Veronica. She’s practically stalking me.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew what a stalker looked like. What they did. I had experienced it. But then he went into detail about what his ex-wife had been doing, and I couldn’t help but have sympathy for him, especially when it came to being around his family. It was nowhere near what I had gone through, but it was not appropriate behavior.
“I’m sorry you’ve been going through that,” I said softly.
Though I had heard him out, I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Don’t be sorry.I’mthe one who is sorry. I screwed everything up. I can’t forgive myself for how I lost you.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the envelope in my purse poke my inner arm. As if it were reminding me of what I was here to do. I tipped my chin in a solemn nod, as if I was gathering strength. I reached in my purse and pulled out the envelope, sliding it across his desk.
“What’s this?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
I stayed quiet, not knowing if I could get the words out. Not knowing if I could physically tell him I was leaving him. All of this. For good.
He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Part of me wanted to run, but my feet stayed planted as I watched his eyes scan the words I had typed. Once he was done, he put the letter down on his desk and looked up at me slowly.
“You’re leaving?” he asked quietly.
“I’mquitting,” I corrected him.
“You can’t. Please, Monica. You can’t.”
“I have to. You know I do.”
“You don’t. We can make this work. We can make us work.”
“There is no us.”
He seemed to sit with that for a moment.
“Regardless of what we’ve been through, I need you. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. I need you. I could have lost everything after that meeting with Belleview, but you stepped in as the amazing person you are and saved my company. Saved me.”
“You can find someone else…”