Page 43 of Size King

I try calling my fiancée many times after our spat. I want to get her talking with me so desperately. I’m texting and leaving so many voicemails that she must think I’m an obsessed crazy person. I attempt to get a hold of her every day since we parted, but she always refuses to answer.

I start misbehaving and imply via text that there are work-related matters she has to tend to. However, once it’s proven (and it always is) that I’m just trying to talk to her about us, she freezes up and stops responding to me. She remains rigid and I remain stubborn.

With the weekend only a day away, I know that I have to act quickly if I want any chance of seeing Kate. I can’t go the whole weekend having her be angry with me.

I leave her a voicemail, asking her to meet me for lunch so that I can discuss work I want to get done next week. I want to discuss next week with her, but to discuss work will entail discussing our new arrangement.

I tell her I fear that if we stay apart for too long, the calm media might turn on us. She assures me that we are okay as far as the media is concerned. I choose to believe that assertion, despite not presenting much evidence to back that up. I want to believe we are okay, but I’m afraid of jinxing it.

She doesn’t get back to me, so I’m not sure if she’s going to show up. She is ghosting me so harshly lately that I expect her not to come. I’m hopeful but expect nothing.

I’m taken aback but remarkably relieved and excited when I see the familiar face I’ve been longing for. Kate comes in, heading toward my office in a button-up shirt and short khaki skirt. She is smiling and greeting people as she makes her way, but I worry that smile won’t last for long once she is with me behind my closed door.

I stay sitting behind my desk, intending to appear as uneager as I can. She knocks on my door and enters.

“Hi,” says Kate.

“Hey,…” I say. “Come on in. Close the door.”

She does as she is told. She only takes a few steps forward, not taking a seat. I’m tempted to offer her a seat anyway, but I know she’ll say no.

“What did you want to meet up for?” she asks. “I thought you said you wanted lunch.”

“I didn’t know what you wanted,” I say matter-of-factly. “I hired a chef for the day. He’s downstairs and will prepare anything I ask for. He’s one of the best in New York. He’ll treat us like royalty and we won’t even have to leave the office.”

“Aiden, no offense, but I can’t stay here for too long,” she says defensively. “I’ll eat, and we can discuss things. What did you have in mind for next week?”

“Nothing,” I admit. “That’s where you come in.”

“I’m under the impression that you had ideas you wanted to discuss,” says Kate.

I don’t blame her at all for having her guard up with me. I don’t think I deserve to be ignored, but it is clear that I’ve hurt her, and I feel bad about it. She is definitely all business, and there isn’t anything I can do about it during this one lunchtime.

“Kate, I’m sorry,” I begin. “I was hoping you had something to tell me. You’re my image consultant, and I haven’t been hearing much.”

“If there is something you need to know, I would tell you, Aiden,” she says. “You should feel good. The news is barely reporting on you, me—barely even Sarah.”

“Then, let’s talk about you and me over lunch,” I try.

“So, this really isn’t about work after all?” Kate laughs in annoyance. “I knew it, and yet I came anyway.”

“Weneedto work through our differences here, Kate,” I practically beg.

“I don’t need to hear anything,” she says with her hand up. “I accepted what this is. It is my fault for adding anything else to what this is. I don’t know why I’ve been convincing myself that something deeper is growing beneath the surface.”

“Kate—”

“I’m a fun fling, and I’m a great way to spend your time,” she says. “I enjoy spending time with you, too, and I’m not entirely opposed to us hooking up in the future, but for now, I just need a little distance, okay?”

“What? You don’t think you’re just… another PR girl I had sex with?”

“That is what I think,” she says with tears forming in her eyes. “I’m the newest, latest PR slut you got, and this is the game you’ve made with me. You and Sarah? I don’t know what your game is, but you and I? This is a mind game.”

“No, I swear to you it isn’t Kate,” I say, standing up from my desk. “Please—”

“I accepted it, it’s okay,” she says, giving me no chance to complete a sentence. “I’m a professional. I think I’ve more than proven that by now. I will keep doing my job. Really, now that the controversies have cooled down, there’s no need for me to be here every day like there was before, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re my fiancée.”