View
1633 Words
Brent Holdings was . . . charming.
Disarmingly so, it seemed.
I felt almost grateful when I got into the cab and he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek, offering a coy smile. “Have a good rest of your evening, Ms. Sanchez,” he’d said, taking a step backwards, courteously shutting the door between us.
Sweet cheeks.
Sweets.
All of the same pet names, all the same sweet talk—and none of the unwanted push.
He could’ve taken the same cab, invited me up to whatever hotel room he was staying at.
Or worse, suggested I invite him up to my apartment.
But no, none of that mess.
It was like it hadn’t even crossed his mind and . . . a part of me was thankful. Handsome, witty, and undeniably intelligent—he would make a great partner. Working together would be beneficial to me, to the growth of my career, and I didn’t want anything to potentially ruin that.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I noticed a text from Phil: “Did you make it home safe?”
I shot back, “Your husband is something else.”
And, just like that, the phone was ringing.
“What happened?” was the first thing out of his mouth.
I pursed my lips, glancing toward the cab driver, noting how we were already caught in midday traffic. “He put me on a plane next to Brent Holdings.”
Phil gasped. “No.”
I grimaced at how forced his voice sounded.
“I can’t believe he’d do that,” he went on, more forced. Rambling now. “That’s just plain—”
“You were in on it, huh?” I observed, crossing my ankles before me.
There was a pause. Then, “Well, Diana, when you say it like that you make it sound like a bad thing.”
I couldn’t believe it. “What am I supposed to do with the two of you?” I tsked.
“Have a baby,” he offered sweetly.
That made my lips quirk upward. “No baby talk right now. I’m mad at you.”
“I’m sorry,” he whined.
“I know Theodore is not,” I sighed.
“He could pretend to be if that would help.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Well, the flight was fine, thank you for asking.”
“And the company?” he asked, hedging.
These men. All three of them had it out for me. I bit my lip, thinking of Brent, of the offer—of how appealing it all was. Everything. Not just him but Pittsburgh, the baby—“It was okay.”
A pause. “Okay?”
“Yeah okay,” I said, biting my lip.
Another short pause. Then, hesitant, “Okay.”
I squinted, glaring up at my apartment complex as the cab pulled to the side of the road. Fumbling with my purse, to pay, the cabbie waved his hand. “The guy you were with already took care of it,” he told me.
Did he now?
I glared at the cab driver who looked surprised by my reaction.
“You still there?” Phil asked.
“Yeah, apparently Brent paid my cab fair,” I grumbled, climbing out of the car, slapping the door shut after me with a small wave of thanks as I stormed into the entrance of my apartment complex, giving a sharp wave to the attendant in the front who nodded his head in my direction.
“Oh how outrageous,” was Phils immediate response.
“He paid for dinner too,” I griped, hitting the elevator call button.
“The audacity,” he chirped.
“You’re being sarcastic but that is exactly how I feel,” I snapped.
“Diana Sanchez, you deserve to be fine wine and dined—”
“Not by my future co-worker,” I insisted, stepping into the elevator and choosing my floor. I’d chosen this luxury apartment for it’s many amenities, yes, but it was the view it provided that really sold it to me.
“So you accepted the offer,” Phil said, his excitement leaking into his voice.
“We’re still in the negotiation process,” I grumbled, glaring up at the reflection of myself on the mirror of the elevator ceiling. I looked nice, elegant despite my long flight and brush with George—but while looking upward, I realized just how much I’d drank.
“But you want to accept the offer.” It wasn’t a question.
The smile in my reflection was immediate and, vacantly, I realized who’d put it there.
“I love you guys,” I muttered, ducking my head. Security was probably watching me smile dumbly at the ceiling wondering what kind of drug I was on. I suppose alcohol is as dangerous as any drug on the market, even if it was considered socially acceptable.
“We love you too.” It was called out by another voice and my cheeks heated, realizing that they were in the car. Theo was listening in on everything.
“Hi Theo,” I muttered as the elevator dinged on my floor and I moved toward my apartment now. Down a hall, to a freshly painted door—their maintenance here is top notch, every area smelling fresh and clean. Even the large gym they supplied which was a feat in and of itself. “I didn’t realize you were a part of this call.”
“I swear he wasn’t,” Phil grumbled. “My phone automatically hooks up to my car and he just managed to re-connect it.”
“I felt left out,” Theo stated.
“This was an A and B conversation, Theodore. You should C your way—”
There was a pause and I could guess what happened.
I know anything about these men, a kiss can probably solve anything.
Opening my apartment door, careful to lock it after myself, I kicked my heels off. “I’m trying not to be upset with you two but this isn’t helping,” I sighed. Honestly, I was surprised he’d want to hear what I had to say so badly. I half expected Theodore to be stoking out Brent right now, asking how things had gone, if the mission was a success. It made me wonder if he didn’t trust Brent’s judgment on the topic. “You need to learn how to communicate with me, not just manipulate situations to your own preferences.”
“I’ll do better to keep you in the loop,” Theo promised.
As a lawyer, I can tell when I’m being fed a lie.
Theodore Blackwell was lying through his teeth.
“D, when will you be back?”
I knew why he was asking. The two of them were chomping at the bit to start the insemination process. They wanted a baby and I would provide one for them. I’d already signed on it and my autograph was as good as gold.
Moving through the kitchen, to the picture window of my high-rise apartment, I looked out at the city and felt that dull ache in my chest.
I loved this view.
Loved this apartment.
Loved this skyline.
Loved the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps.
“Just give me one week,” I told them.
“Do you need me?” Phil asked, hesitant, his voice soft.
I’d always prided myself on not “needing” anybody. Not my mother after she left my father in a rut. Not my father who was always working so hard, trying to take care of the entirety of my oversized family, not just the younger generation but the people who raised him as well. I'd done my best to get scholarships and grants to pay off most of my schooling, and my career had helped me pay off what was left.
“I’m sure I can manage a week alone.” A month. A year, even. I’d always manage.
“We know you can,” Phil muttered. He sounded worried. Maybe even a little hurt.
“We just want you to know that you don’t have to,” Theo added.
Supportive, even if they were a bit pushy.
I smiled at my reflection in the glass window, surprised to see it twice in one day.
When was the last time I’d genuinely smiled? Just let loose and felt so . . . calm?
“I love you both. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, Di!”
“Be safe, D.”
“Call if anything!” Phil added.
And then they hung up.
Glancing down at my outfit in the reflection, my small waist, flaring out into wider hips—birthing hips I’d always called them—I pressed my hand to my flat tummy and bit my lip.
As beautiful as the view before me was, I didn't have anyone to share it with.
Moving to the kitchen, I opened the cabinet to see my single wine glass.
The only one I’d ever bothered to purchase.
George was no fan of wine and he’d only come over, what? Twice, maybe?
We always met at functions for work, diners near our jobs for lunch, a small bar after work for a pick-me-up with “friends”.
One wine glass.
Solitary.
Pulling the bottle from the wine rack, I popped it open and just pressed it directly to my lips.
Alone.
Taking a seat on the arm of my fancy couch, in my beautiful apartment with my dazzling view, I realized just how lonely these years of success had been.
- Writer
