Boss of Mine

I push the green button and press the phone to my ear. It rings, once, twice, three times. I'm about to hang up, thinking her voice mail is going to pick up.

Why would she answer my call anyway? I haven't given her the time of day. I can't really blame her for hating me. I can't blame her for any resentment or anger she might have. I deserve all of it.

I pull the phone away from my ear, depression and regret start to course through my body. I'm ready to hang up, when I hear a voice.

“Hello,” she says.

“Ronda?” I ask.

“Yeah, who else would it be?”

“Ronda, I—”

“You ghosted me,” she says sharply.

“I know it feels that way, but I just need you to listen to me.”

“Listen? Why the hell should I listen to you? You ignored me. Now, you want me to just overlook all of that, and hear what you have to say? No, it doesn't work that way, Manu.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. Look,” I say, sighing into the phone, “I need to see you.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before dropping out the way you did. You just left without a damn word. You said absolutely nothing.”

“Please, just meet me so we can talk. What I want to tell you, you deserve to hear in person.”

She's quiet for a long second. I almost think she hung up, and as I'm about to say her name to see if she's still there, she says, “Fine, where?”

I exhale a relieved breath. “Can you meet me at my place in an hour?”

“Sure, but you better show up. If you're not there, I'm gone.”

“I'll be there, I promise.”

I don't waste one more second in this place. I check out of the hotel and hop in my car, then hit the highway at full speed. I weave in and out of traffic, my foot heavy on the pedal as I drive home.

There's so much I want to say to her. A million different things are running through my head. Ronda is different. She isn't like other girls, and I think that draws me to her even more than her beauty.

I pull into the garage of my building and park. I make record time, arriving home in forty minutes. The doorman says Ronda hasn't been here yet. I tell him to let her right up when she gets here, and he agrees.

I pace back and forth in my apartment. My nerves are on edge, and my stomach is in knots. I don't know what she's going to say or think or do. For all I know she's only coming so she can call me a dick to my face and tell me to get bent.

I look out the window down at the street. Cars are moving slowly as the traffic thickens. There are people walking in both directions on the sidewalk, but I'm too high up to make out any details of anyone below.

Pressing my palms down against the windowsill, I lay my forehead on the glass. It's cool on my skin. I feel like I'm on fire. I'm sweating and my heart is racing, but there's nothing I can do to calm down. The only thing that's going to help is seeing her and having her give me two minutes of her time to explain everything.

Knock knock.

I jerk my head up and look over my shoulder at the door. She's here. I take long, swift steps to the door, afraid that if I take too long to answer she'll leave. Ripping the door open, she's standing right in front of me, her expression flat.

“Hi,” she says as her eyes flick between mine.

“Hi.”

We stare at each other in silence. She looks so beautiful right now. Vulnerable in so many ways. Her eyes look lost and full of sadness. She's sliding her lips over each other, running the edge of her teeth back and forth over her bottom lip. This is my fault. I did this to her. I made her feel insecure and abandoned.

Ronda's hair is dangling in her face as her hands lay limp at her sides. I hate seeing her like this. I hate that I did this to her. I hate that I thought money is worth more than finding happiness.

How could I do this to her?

Because I'm selfish.

Money is the epitome of greed. And I shattered this girl like glass.

“Come on in,” I finally choke out.

“I don't know, maybe we can just talk like this?” There's so much hesitation in her voice that my heart starts to ache.

“We don't need to do this. Please, come inside.” I hold out my arm, welcoming her into my home.

She wobbles on her heels, unsure of what she should do. I can see the confusion in her eyes as she chews on the inside of her cheeks. It's unfair. It's wrong that her hesitation is valid even though all I want to do is apologize.