His For More Than One Night

“Your promotion was in place before I ever laid eyes on you. Alan had everything to do with that, and you know it. My signature went on paperwork drawn up before we met. You deserve your job, and no one who has ever worked with you would think otherwise. Do not make roadblocks where there are none. Do not do this to us, please.”

My mind is spinning. I’m not sure what to think until he says the word us. The way he says it makes my stomach spin almost as badly as my mind. “I want you to leave, now.” I can’t think. It hurts to look at him. He reaches for me, I back up until I hit the wall. “Please just leave now.” I can hear my voice is too loud and high, and I don’t care.

“All right, I’ll leave. We’ll talk later.” His voice is firm, all I care about is he’s leaving.

The door closes

with a click, and it frees me to fumble to my desk. I’m still trying to sort through my chaotic thoughts when Jenny comes back into the office without knocking. “What the hell was that? Only you could stare at a yummy-looking piece of eye candy like he had the plague.”

Shaking my head, I can’t meet her eyes. “It’s nothing. Don’t leave Cara on the floor alone.” My voice is sharper than I intend, and she flinches at my tone. With a flounce, she’s gone.

When the door bangs shut, my head goes into my hands. What the hell am I supposed to do? It seems so damn wrong from the outside looking in. Working for him and sleeping with the boss is something a whore does, willing to sell her body to gain from it. Does it matter that, as he kept saying, he became a lover before he technically became my boss? I clench my eyes. It feels like it’s just an excuse. Didn’t he already known that? Was that why he had kept it hidden, because it was wrong?

Cara knocks timidly and calls out that a long-time customer is asking for me. It takes a moment of deep breathing for me to answer I’ll be out in a minute. Forcing myself to stand, I push back the chaos. I’ll have to figure it out later. For now I need to get back to work.

***

As I’m locking the door and waiting for Cara to get into her boyfriend’s car, my phone begins to ring. I know who it is, and I don’t bother to look down. I send it to voicemail. I’m not ready, not yet. Hailing a cab, I give my address, and my phone starts ringing again. I know I won’t have peace until I respond. Words won’t come as I look at the keys on my phone. Finally, I tap only two words: Not now.

My phone is silent. No response. Knowing Trey, I know he’ll give me time, but it won’t be for long.

***

I’m not wrong. He’s quiet for two days and then my phone starts ringing again. I’ve made up my mind, and slip my phone under the pillow and let it ring and ring. Curling up into a ball on my bed, the pain is blinding, and it’s hard to breathe. That’s what surprises me the most—pain like I didn’t believe I could ever feel again. My eyes close, and I wonder if I’m making a mistake. Doesn’t pain tell you when something is wrong?

Forcing my eyes open, I snatch the phone from under my pillow and open up a text message. My hands are trembling so hard it takes multiple times to get the few words out. It’s over, so please stop calling.

My phone goes quiet. When the knocking starts on my door, I bury my face in the pillow. Turning off my phone, I ignore his demands to answer the door. He doesn’t give up easily. For what feels like a good five minutes, he’s knocking until a neighbor yells they’re calling the cops.

***

To my shock and, I tell myself, relief, for almost two weeks there are no more calls or texts.

This is good, I tell myself every day. It was a storm in a teacup, and these crazy unwanted feelings will fade. Eventually the pain will go away. Having gone through pain before, I know it will. I just have to get through the end of the day.

Except the nights are the worst. So many times the memories flood and burn brightly, and the tears come. Sleep is short and fitful, and often I spend the night curled up in my oversized chair. Anger lingers, but not at Trey. No, it’s not his fault. It’s my own stupidity that causes the pain.

Unlocking my door and my purse falls on the floor as I sag against the door. The sight of Trey stretched out on the chair hits me like a smack across the face. Tears come instantly, and he swears long and loud as he pulls me into his arms.

Trying to get myself under control isn’t working, and after a few minutes I stop trying and simply give in to the sobs that rack my body. His arms tighten around me, and the feel of him is all I’m aware of.

Finally, the tears stop, and Trey is wiping my face with a handkerchief. “Kate, if I didn’t know how much you liked it, I would turn your bottom red with a spanking. I only left you alone for so long so you would have the time you needed to work it out for yourself. But I can tell you haven’t, and haven’t even been smart enough to take care of yourself.”

Shaking my head, I want to argue, but am afraid opening my mouth again will start more tears.

“Yes, damn it. Have you been eating at all?” His voice is harsh, and I cringe. Food has gone the way of sleep, happening only when my body refuses to go on without it. “I didn’t think so. Any excuse, I knew you’d use it and run scared. Time for running is over, Kate. You are stronger than you think.”

The firmness in his voice causes a shiver to run through me.

“Don’t, Kate. I’m not letting you go. Not now, not tomorrow, or the day after.”

Pushing away, I run a hand through my hair. No, I want to say it, but the word is caught in my throat.

He sighs. “You know why. You’ve known why since almost the beginning. It was why you wouldn’t call me. I had hopes when you said yes to therapy that you understood why I was asking you to put yourself through it. Then I saw your face at the store and I knew I was wrong.

“It’s okay, Kate. I don’t need you to say it. I love you, and I’m not stupid enough to think my love is all you need. It’s going to take time and patience and probably pain on both of our sides to get there. But I told you before, and I meant it: I’m not going anywhere. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I walk away from you and it’s like I’m not whole anymore.”

Hearing him say it out loud has me crying all over again. I can’t say those words back to him. I have no point of reference for that emotion. A small part of me fears I will never be able to say those words to anyone. Trey deserves to hear them. He deserves to be loved. What if I can’t?