Every Time I Try to Leave…

Another day to be great. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve always had dreams of being a successful entrepreneur — but if you’d told me that by the age of thirty-four, I, Talia Andrews, would be the CEO of one of the top brands in the country, with four other businesses and a nonprofit just as successful? I would’ve called you crazy. Most of my life, I’ve been what folks like to call the black sheep. The outcast. The loner. I wasn’t no angel growing up, but I wasn’t no demon either. Just a girl trying to figure it out the best way she knew how. I grew up in a home that was… stable enough, but not without its cracks. My mom — a single mother — did what she could. Me and my little brother JR were her pride and joy. We tried to be, anyway. We got an older sister too, but she peaced out early. Graduated ahead of her class, landed a sports commentary job, and barely looks back. A random phone call here and there — holidays, birthdays if we’re lucky. And somehow, through all of that, here I am. Boss. Leader. The one everybody looks to. Funny how life works. ⸻ I rolled over and stared at the time on my phone: 6:15 AM. My day off. The one day I swore to give myself every week — no calls, no meetings, no stress. And yet my mind was already racing with everything that needed to be handled. I slid out of bed, feet meeting cool hardwood, and tied my thick natural hair into a loose bun. The city hadn’t woken up yet. Just the hum of traffic in the distance and the faint glow of sunrise peeking through the curtains. First stop: the kitchen. I grabbed my favorite mug — Boss Moves Only in gold letters — and whisked my matcha until it frothed just right. I liked how calm the ritual made me feel. Like maybe I had a handle on everything. A plate of scrambled egg whites, avocado, and multigrain toast followed. Clean. Light. No mess, no extra. The same way I tried to keep my life. Thirty minutes later, I hit the home gym. Peloton ride, twenty minutes. Just enough to break a sweat. Then some light weights. No matter how much my businesses grew — or how complicated things got with him — I refused to let my body, or my peace, fall apart. By the time I stepped into the shower, steam clouding the mirrors, my phone was already buzzing on the counter. I ignored it. Let myself have these minutes — the hot water, the quiet, the feel of my skin softening under the heat. I lotioned up, slipped into a soft beige two-piece lounge set, and wrapped my hair in a towel. This was supposed to be my day to chill. No makeup. No pressure. But by the time I’d finished my second cup of tea and scrolled through my emails “just to check,” it was already happening. URGENT. Come in when you can. It’s important. Of course it was. By noon, I was dressed. Black slacks. Silk blouse. Gold hoop earrings — that effortless boss look I didn’t feel like pulling off today. I slipped on my heels, grabbed my keys, and told myself one last time: One meeting. One issue. Then I’m done. But deep down? I already knew better. ⸻ The Office Talia stepped into the sleek glass building that bore their name on the front — Andrews & King — and tried to ignore the familiar weight settling on her chest. The lobby was quiet. Too quiet for noon. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floors, echoing like a reminder: She shouldn’t be here today. Not on her day off. Not for him. The receptionist offered a tight smile. “He’s waiting for you in the conference room, Ms. Andrews.” Of course he was. Talia smoothed her blouse as if that could settle the knot in her stomach, took a breath, and pushed through the glass door. There he was. Malik King. Leaning back in one of the leather chairs like he owned the place — like they hadn’t built it together. Black tee clinging to his chest and inked-up arms, tattoos peeking from his sleeves and neckline. Gold chain catching the light. Chin-length fade fresh, the little patch of hair on his chin neatly shaped. And those eyes — dark, unreadable, locked on her the second she stepped in. “Tee,” he said, voice low. The kind that always sounded like a promise and a warning at the same time. “Knew you’d come through.” She crossed her arms. Didn’t sit. “You said it was urgent. What’s up?” His gaze dragged down her figure, slow, unhurried, before meeting her eyes again. “Damn. You really had to come in here looking like that on a day off?” Her jaw clenched. “Malik.” That smirk — the one that used to weaken her. Now it just made her tired. “I’m serious,” he said, standing, closing the space between them just enough to mess with her head. “You always make it so hard to focus. But I need you on this, Tee. We got a situation.” “What situation?” she snapped, refusing to step back. He exhaled, dropping the charm. “The numbers from the Chicago store came in this morning. We got a leak. Somebody’s skimming, and if we don’t move fast, it’s gon’ cost us.” Her pulse quickened — half from the news, half from how close he stood. Same Malik. Same pattern. Hit her with the storm, then make her feel like only he could weather it with her. “Fine,” she said, straightening. “Let’s handle it. But after this? I need my space. I mean it.” His expression softened, just for a second — like maybe that hit him somewhere real. But then came that grin. That damn grin. “Yeah, alright, Tee,” he said. But she knew better. She always did. ⸻