Obsessed

"Sweetheart, it's me. Let me up." The sound of Mark's voice immediately causes my body to tense.

"I'm busy, Mark. What is it?" I know the frustration is evident in my tone and I'm glad.

"I heard you had a letter of mine." He continues, "I want it."

"I'll bring it down." I don't want Mark back in my apartment, even for a moment.

"Oliver will let me up." With that the line goes dead.

"Dammit." My heart races, knowing that within two minutes, the man I was devoted to for more than four years is going to be standing back in the home we shared together.

I brace myself as I hear the elevator stop on my floor.

I feel unsteady as I open the door. "Here's the letter."

He grabs the envelope from my hand, folds it and pushes it into the pocket of the jeans he's wearing.

"Bye Mark." I start to close the door, only to feel the resistance from his hand on it.

"Sweetheart, let me in." His voice is just as I remember it. The word sweetheart pulling at my heart, while at the same time, bubbling up a feeling of rage within me.

I stand my ground in the doorway. "There's nothing for us to talk about. Nothing."

"It's about my mother." His voice is tinged with sadness.

I instantly form an image of Mark's mother in my mind. She had become the mother I had longed for after the death of my own when I was an infant. Mark's mother, June, and I had struck a close bond instantly. I move to the side so he can enter.

"How's June?" I ask expectantly, knowing that her health has been fragile in recent years.

Mark sighs heavily before speaking. "She's at Lenox Hill Hospital. She was asking for you."

"How serious?" I ask not certain I want to hear the answer.

Mark's blue eyes well up with tears. "I'm scared, Ivy."

I study his face. His usual beard is unkempt, his blonde hair in desperate need of a cut. The deep bags under his blue eyes that have always been a sign of his insomnia are even more pronounced now. His face is gaunt. I can tell he's lost weight off his small frame.

"I'll go up to see her tomorrow." I open the door, wanting Mark to leave before my heart takes over and wants to comfort him.

He ignores me and walks farther into the apartment, settling himself down on a taupe chair in the living room. I grudgingly follow him.

"I miss you so much." He looks up at me. "I'm sorry for everything, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that, Mark." My tone is stern and serious. "I hate when you call me that."

"I can't help it." He shrugs. "That's who you'll always be to me."

My temper is rapidly racing to the surface. I want to shout at him, "You have no right to call me anything after what you did. You slept with three other women while I was planning our wedding."

I hold my self-control, not wanting to waste any more emotional energy on him. "You need to go, Mark. There's nothing for us to talk about."

He rises slowly. "I'm hosting a broker's open house at Carleton Towers next Thursday night. I want you to come."

I smirk at the mention of his last name. I'm not surprised he named his latest luxury condo complex after himself. After all, only one person matters to Mark.

"I won't be there, Mark." I hold the apartment door open. "Go now."

"You're a shareholder, Ivy. The building is as much yours as it's mine."