Broken

I walk into Mike’s office wondering if James will show up today. Part of me hopes he doesn’t. If Ed has anything to do with it the whole damn building will know about Saturday before lunch. The other part of me, the stronger and possibly foolish part, can’t wait to see him again.

Chapter Six

~James~

Pausing outside the revolving glass doors to Holden House, I clear my throat and straighten my tie. Max tried to convince me to take a few days off but I refuse. This is my company. It relies on me, and I won’t let my people, or my father, down.

Offering my usual greeting to security, and then Jane on reception, I stride towards the lifts. People filter inside the lift as it stops on various floors and I’m sure I receive some questionable glances. Ignoring them, I look straight ahead until I reach the thirteenth floor.

I head straight to Mike Nolan’s office, looking at my watch. I’m late for his weekly briefing and I consider skipping it, but I can’t. Sitting in on every department meeting each Monday is not only a colossal waste of my time but also an increasing burden as the business continues to grow. But, it’s how my father did things. He thought it vital to connect personally with all levels of staff, show his support. Communication builds trust, understanding, and work ethic, which are essential for a company to thrive. That’s what he used to say anyway. I, however, think it eats into valuable time I could be spending on more important things.

The meeting has already begun by the time I reach his office. I’m glad, because it means I don’t have to talk to him beforehand. Arms folded across my chest, I stand at the back of the room. A few people turn at my arrival but the only person I’m interested in is Theodore. He hasn’t seen me yet, and he doesn’t until the redhead nudges his shoulder and blatantly nods to where I stand.

Dick.

He looks almost amused, the redhead, and I wonder if he knows about Theodore and I, or maybe he’s reliving what happened on my birthday. I think I remember seeing him there, but I can’t trust my recollections of that night. Narrowing my eyes, I glower at him. He soon looks away.

My focus turns back to Theodore and I feel a stab of disappointment that he’s not looking at me. I suspect he’s thinking about me, however, because he’s staring at his feet rather than Mike who’s addressing the room.

I spent the whole of yesterday telling myself to leave him alone, to go back to a time when I didn’t know he existed. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into with me and he deserves better. Nobody should get close to me. I’m too much. Too broken. Life is better alone. I like it that way. Solitude is addictive. Once you discover how peaceful it is, you no longer want or need to deal with people anymore. It’s why I keep my distance from Max, but unfortunately for him he’s genetically programmed to love me. Theodore isn’t. He has a choice and he should choose to have nothing to do with me. He has to, because I’m not strong enough to push him away.

Maybe, after Saturday, he’ll make the right decision. Perhaps he already has and that’s why he won’t look at me. But…what if…what if Saturday was just a blip? What if I’m not as sick as they think I am? I’m not crazy. It was the alcohol that caused me to behave like that. I’m not supposed to drink to excess and I know that.

These questions continue to burn a hole in my head throughout the meeting, contradicting everything I’m trying so hard to force myself to believe. I feel so much better lately. I can’t tell anyone that of course because they’ll accuse me of being manic. But they don’t live in my head. They don’t know how I’m feeling. Maybe it’s their fault, the doctors, my brother, that I’ve never felt good enough for anyone. They’re so intent on labelling me, insisting that I’m ‘not well’. They don’t want me to be happy. If I am, I’m sick. If I’m sad, I’m sick. They want me to live as a fucking robot and I’ve complied…until now.

What if they’re wrong? What if I do have a right to be happy? What if I can be what Theodore deserves? I’ve never even contemplated a relationship before, not just because I’ve been convinced that I’m a burden to anyone who gets too close, but because it’s never interested me.

But Theodore…

I can’t stop thinking about him. Wanting him. They don’t want me to feel. They’ve kept my system pumped with drugs, tablets that block all my emotions, for years. They don’t want me to live, merely exist, and I’ve allowed it. But Theodore’s broken through. He makes me feel again and…and I like it. I like the flickers of hope in my chest when he smiles, the bubbles of excitement in my stomach when he laughs, even the guilt I feel when I piss him off. They’re emotions I haven’t felt in such a long time and I crave more of them, crave him, crave life.

So when the meeting ends and his team disperse from the office, I do the very thing I’ve been telling myself not to since the early hours of Sunday morning. I step in front of Theodore, blocking his path. He tilts his head to the side, his expression quizzical as he looks up at me with caution.

“Can I have a word? In my office.”

He hesitates and I watch his Adam’s apple move slowly up and down his throat. My tongue itches to dart out and lick it, but I don’t. “Sure.”

Stepping aside, I extend my arm so he can pass. I walk behind him, admiring the way his grey pants hug his perfectly sculpted arse. I need to stop thinking about that so I overtake him, leading the way. We ride the lift alone and he keeps his gaze on the doors, while mine is fixed on him. He seems nervous. I thought we were past that. I thought he’d grown immune to my bullshit.