I spent the next two weeks between my apartment and the office writing from morning to night. With Desi and Henry on the outs, it was rare for the three of us to be in the same room together. When those meetings did happen, they were tense and often exhausting. So, we did our best not to meet unless necessary.
Desi would take my chapters without more than three sentences of conversation, edit them at breakneck pace, and send them back. Her sobriety and silence led everyone on our floor to offer her condolences at the end of the first week. At first Desi and I couldn't figure out why they kept patting her somberly and telling her they were sorry. Then we found out... she was so unusual that they assumed someone in her family had died.
We both knew she was suffering a different kind of loss, but even having her pining for Henry mistaken as grief wasn't enough to change her mind. She kept on, stubborn as ever.
On alternate days, Henry would come to the apartment. He usually showed up with armloads of marketing agendas, emails, and announcements about the pending book release. Dropping them on the table, we would sift through them quietly, working for hours as the two of us ignored the untouched coffee cooling in our mugs. He never said anything about Desi, except for once.
We had been sitting on the couch, him reading through emails while I wrote. The TV was on, playing as background noise. After a moment, I noticed him watching the screen with strange amounts of concentration. It was an ad for the perfume Desi liked to wear.
Before the ad ended, A woman's voice came on whispering seductively, "Absolutely unforgettable."
When he turned his attention back to work, Henry caught me watching him. He cleared his throat and looked at his computer.
"It's a good ad." Henry whispered. "Truthful hook."
He fidgeted for a moment before saying, "I should track down their marketing team..."
Then he huffed, glaring at his computer as he began to forcefully type something on the keyboard. "And hunt them for sport."
He never talked or brought it up again, and I couldn't say I desired to press him about it. In turn, he gave me the same courtesy. Afterall, Henry was observant. After the meeting, he was the first to notice the way I evaded the topic of Robin. He never commented on how often I checked my phone despite knowing there was nothing there. Robin didn't call or text unless it was to ask if we were doing a trope on the scheduled days.
Any time my phone lit up; Henry would look at me. I would stare back at him for a long time. Neither of us knew what was best, and he didn't offer any advice. After a moment, I would exhale and type back: Not today... writing.
Then Henry would watch as I totaled every minute passing on the clock. Both of us dropped our eyes when it struck 10 o'clock and there wasn't a knock on the door or the sound of footsteps approaching. Sometimes I was relieved by it, other days, not so much.
By the middle of the third week, and the midpoint of November, I had completed the first draft of my novel and sent it out. It's the first time in two months that I have a moment to myself as the book goes under review by multiple editors and beta readers. I finally had a weekend free.
That Friday, while I was making omelets for lunch, my phone rang instead of lighting up. Henry lifted his head from the paperwork on the table and raised an eyebrow at me, "It's Robin. Again."
I stared at him, flickering my eyes down to the phone as it rang. The number of times Robin had texted and called in the last week had grown exponentially. I still had no idea what to say, so I just let it go, telling myself I would figure it out, that I would call back now that the writing was done. I never did.
There was nothing new for me to say. I still had feelings I couldn't control and if seeing Levi told me anything, it was that I needed to be more careful... Even so, it didn't stop me from missing Robin's company. Missing everything.
Henry sat back in his seat, as if he could hear the thoughts in my head. "You can't put him off forever, Leah. He's trying to do his job... and you still need him to do yours."
"I know." I mumbled, flipping over the omelet. It was still too runny and split the minute I tried to fold it. Frowning at it, I moved the spatula in the pan to scramble it instead. We left it at that.
The phone rang again. Once more. Then it went quiet. After a moment, the screen lit up with a text. I handed the good omelet on a plate to Henry and placed the scrambled eggs in front of me as I sat down. Opening the phone I read his message:
I don't remember "Ignore Robin" being in the contract. I would like to formally request that my business associate answer her phone. Sent 9:45 am.
As I read this message another one comes through:
Come on, Leah. I don't want to do this anymore...talk to me. Sent 9:46 am.
Henry catches my eye again, and he stares pointedly at the phone. "I don't know what happened but pretending he doesn't exist is cruel."
Then he looks at his plate and cuts into his food, muttering, "Believe me...I would know."
I lock the screen, setting the phone back down, "I'll call him back later. I'm too tired now"
Henry shakes his head, and we eat in silence. Before he leaves that afternoon, he ruffles my hair, and swipes his jacket off the chair, "Get some rest."
The suggestion lands on my body as a demand, and I move to the couch. The door clicks shut behind Henry by the time I'm buried in blankets and the tv is on. I had no idea what I'm watching, but the noise was low and calm. Everything fades.
--
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
I shot up off the couch, pulled from a dead sleep at the sound of someone knocking on my door. The tv was droning on and I grope around for the remote in the blankets before shutting it off. My apartment goes dark without the tv on, casting a grey shadow over everything. Sitting up, I click on the lamp beside me and stare at the door, waiting. The knock comes again.
Standing, I toss the blankets to the side and walk toward the keyhole. Peeking out, I see Robin waiting in the hallway.
Shit. I close my eyes, pressing my hand to my face. Rubbing my palms over my skin, I try to wake up, but the grogginess lingers.
Finding the clock on the wall, I found it was 11:34 pm. I slept through the entire day.
The lamp beside the couch casts a yellow glow over everything, making it seem much later and there's a calm to my apartment that weighs on my shoulders and eyelids. I feel as if I've been sleeping for weeks instead of hours.
Stumbling back to the couch for my phone, I check my messages. There's only one recent text and it's from Robin:
I'm coming over. sent 10:58 pm.
Sighing deeply, I straighten out my hair and clothes before walking back to the door. It only takes a second to open it, and as if there's a strong wind in the hallway, it swings wide. Robin is staring at me stubbornly, arms folded tight over his chest.
"Hey." I say, but it's groggy with sleep. I clear my throat and say again, "Hi."
He raises his eyebrow, "So you are alive?"
My shoulders deflate, and I sigh, "Robin--"
"Which is crazy," He cuts me off angrily, "Because I'm pretty sure that living people customarily answer their cellphones. Even when they're upset! When I walked away from you a couple weeks ago it was so I could cool off, not because I never wanted to hear from you again! And yes, I mean to hear from you. As in your voice. Not left reading the same two words on my phone in reply."
I have nothing to say to this, so I drop my eyes. He stands there, completely content to wait for a response. When a few minutes had passed, I lifted my eyes from my shoes and found him observing me. The weight of his gaze was enough for me to let my gaze sink back to the floor in shame.
"I don't understand what happened, what I did, to make you shut me out. But I have spent every minute since then trying to figure it out." He says sternly, doing his best to calm the frustration in his tone.
It doesn't work and Robin sounds like he's fighting off every emotion when he says, "Then I realized, regardless of whether we get to the bottom of that, there's something you should know..."
I look up, carefully meeting his gaze. The minute he gains my attention, Robin steps forward. Our bodies come closer, and those clear, deep, hazel eyes peer into mine with unflinching clarity.
"I don't want to be your business partner, Leah." Robin sees me tense the closer he comes. He stops and acknowledges the line... Then he challenges it by taking another step. "I want more."
Robin continues to speak, every breath he takes tense with agitation, "We can stop the project right now, if that's what you want, and I will give you space if that's what you need to sort whatever this is out ...but I'm not going anywhere. Your friendship, you as a human being, mean so much more to me than that. I won't give you up that easily,"
Then he swallows hard, "And I'm sorry.... if that's not what you want to hear."
The words slam into me, but I force myself not to break eye contact. Robin remains undaunted, staring with all the intensity I can stand and all that I can't. My heart soars into my throat, and I feel my lungs squeeze in on themselves. My body seeks relief and resistance all at once, and there's this piercing fear that If I bend in this moment I might break in half.
"I don't want to stop the project" I whisper, doing my best to speak through the scratch in my throat. My breathing picks up and my hands tremble, "I don't want to give up."
"Good." He looks relieved, shoulders dropping with deep exhale, "Okay. Good. Then talk to me. Tell me what happened?"
My voice shakes, and I swallow hard as the memories drive like spears against my eyes. "It's a really long story, Robin... and I'm not the good guy."
There's a moment where I think he'll change his mind. Something settles over his face, and it makes him seem so unfamiliar. Then it passes, and Robin is back more himself than ever. We are Robin and Leah, standing in the doorway... and despite all my rational fears and anxieties, there is not a single burden on my heart when he nods his head. Robin takes another step closer to me. It's so close that my hand reaches to steady myself with the door handle, but it's too far away. My feet don't fail me, I hold my ground. Even when it feels unsteady.
"So, let me in." Robin whispers softly, still gazing at me completely unafraid, "And we can talk about it...over a cup of coffee. Like normal people."
I smile, even though the tears have already started to brim my eyes. "Are you sure we shouldn't discuss it over ritual sacrifice? I would feel more comfortable."
"No," He starts to smile, "No sacrifices. No public cuddling. No jump scares. Just you, me, and this little apartment's coffee machine."
Opening up around him comes so naturally, that I didn't realize I had even begun to step aside for him to enter. Robin doesn't step through the door until I say, "Then this is officially the most terrifying thing you've ever asked me to do."
He lets the door swing closed behind him, and nods toward the kitchen, "We made it this far partner," and Robin let's his eyes fall back on me, "Can't quit now."
----
Hello lovelies!!
That's right, I double posted B> (that's a sunglasses smirky face btw)
I just couldn't leave things the way they were!!!
Please let me know how you like the story so far, vote, comment, share, and eat an unbelievably delicious meal while you're at it!
See you next time~~
with love,
e.g.