When the latest episode ended with the bride literally pulling chunks of her own hair out, I came to the conclusion that I was going to take a break from my relationship with Vincent. I couldn’t keep going with things the way they were. If I didn’t make a change, I would lose my mind.
***
On Sunday afternoon I finally gave in to turning on my phone. I was going to call Vincent and tell him we should take a break. Closing my bedroom door, I picked up my phone from the nightstand and turned it on. There were a bunch of unread text messages—some of them new and some of them from Friday when I ran out of the restaurant.
I ignored the messages and called him.
He answered on the first ring. “Kristen?”
His silky voice had its usual effect on me even though I knew to prepare for it. “Vincent . . .”
He released an audible exhale and I could picture his chest lowering from the release of air. “I’m so glad to hear your voice. I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again and that scared me.”
“Hey Vincent. Listen . . . I need to tell you something.” I had to push this conversation forward before Vincent’s persuasive hold took effect. Otherwise, I’d begin doubting my decision. Fortunately, it was much easier to resist him on the phone than in person.
“Wait. Just a moment.” I heard some mumbling in the background. “Shit. I’m sorry, Kristen. I have a meeting right now. But whatever you want to tell me sounds important. Is it an emergency? Can I meet you later? I’ll try my hardest to be done by six.”
“You’re at work on a Sunday?”
There was another mumble in the background. “Yeah, sorry. We have a lot going on over here right now.”
I breathed deeply, reaffirmed in my decision that we were both too busy to make this work. “I’ll drop by your office at six thirty then.”
Meeting him at his office as opposed to his place or my place would make it easier to leave after the discussion. It would’ve been easier just to tell him over the phone but I supposed it was more appropriate to handle this in person.
His voice brightened. “Can’t wait to see you then.”
“Bye Vincent.”
When evening rolled around, I gingerly stepped out my front door in jeans and a t-shirt. It’d been nearly two days since I left the apartment. I made sure to pack my taser in my purse before I went over to Vincent’s office in case I ran into any more trouble along the way.
As expected, the commute downtown was less crowded than usual since most people weren’t working. High-powered CEOs were one of the exceptions. I made it to the Red Fusion offices to find a few people crunching on their laptops. I was about to ring Vincent when an employee who recognized me from before kindly opened the glass door. I thanked him and he promptly returned to his desk to work on his keyboard. Knowing the way to Vincent’s office, I walked down the hall and stopped in front of his door. This wasn’t going to be an easy discussion, but it had to be done.
I took a deep breath then went inside.
Vincent was at his desk, brows furrowed and typing furiously. He was in his usual elegant New York attire: white shirt with red-striped tie and black pants. When he saw me—those dark brown eyes piercing me like arrows—he stopped working and smiled. “Kristen.”
“Hey,” I said, returning his smile. I kept one hand in my jeans and waved at him with the other.
He glided around the desk and hugged me tightly, the squeeze making my legs turn to jelly momentarily. As always, he smelled wonderful. The spicy scent tickled my nostrils as well as other parts of my body. He kissed me on the forehead then the tip of my nose. “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you’d call so I could let you in.”
“I was going to when one of your employees let me inside,” I said as he led me by the hand to his leather couch in the corner. I was reminded of the first time I entered this office intending to make another case for choosing Waterbridge-Howser as his wealth management firm but wound up almost having sex with him instead. That was a distressing time in my life but not quite as distressing as recent events.
“I got you these.” He reached for the coffee table and handed me a bouquet of red roses. There was a card attached with a small puffin on the front. It looked rough, like it was drawn with crayons by a child.
“Did you draw this picture?” I asked.
“Yeah, you like it?” He sounded proud of his work.
I had to stifle a laugh. A smile broke out on my face despite myself. “Let’s just hope the inside makes up for it.”
The card read:
Kristen, I’m sorry. I messed up. I lied to you and didn’t respect your choices. Give me a chance to make it up to you.
Yours, Vincent
“This is really sweet, Vincent.” I took a whiff of the roses and savored the fresh fragrance. The gesture touched my heart but gifts could only go so far.
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled, his boyish grin making my insides mushy. “So what did you want to tell me earlier today? It sounded important.”
I carefully put the items on the seat next to me and exhaled, gathering up the courage to tell him what I’d planned on saying. “I want to take a break.”
His smile faded and his dark eyes studied me. “What kind of break?”
“A break from us.”
“Temporary or permanent?”
“Temporary. For now at least. My life is too crazy at the moment and I’m sure you’re really stressed out as well. It’ll be good for both of us.”
His gaze narrowed. “The only time I’m not stressed is when I’m with you.”
I looked at him skeptically. “What about your work? You’ve seemed pretty worried about it the last few weeks.”
“Work is work. I can manage it, especially when I’m thinking about you. It helps to have something to look forward to.”
“I thought you said I was a distraction?”
“That was when my priorities were different. Seems so long ago. Now work is the distraction.”
“And I’m your main concern now? Is it because of Marty?”
“It’s because the way I feel about you. You’re more than a concern. You’re a part of my life.”
“You’ve been so busy lately. I’ve hardly seen you. I don’t feel like I’ve been that big of a part of your life.”
I expected him to have some kind of charming response but instead, he bent down and casually slipped off each of his black loafers, leaving him in his black socks. He set his shoes near my feet. Then he started slipping off my flats.