Love Emerged (25 page)

He ignores everyone else at the table, and I’m starting to think he’s interested in more than her sports history.

“I do have to say, I feel as though sports apparel for women is behind compared to men. We would like more than just a slew of pink or purple.” Bea laughs.

He instantly joins her, making the people at his sides laugh as well.
Do as the boss does
—every employee’s motto.

“The boys have more than blue to choose from,” she adds.

They laugh again, and an unfamiliar prick hits my heart.

Damn, stop flirting, Bea
, I want to say. But it’s not because she isn’t schmoozing great with the boss man, but because she’s mine, and somehow, I want to slam my fist on this table and claim her.

“We’re working on that, but I’m really liking the idea.” He thinks about it, stands, and plays with his wedding ring, circling it a few times. Probably wishing he’d had slipped it off before coming into the meeting. “We’ll let you know. Decisions will be made in two weeks.”

Each exec rounds the table and begins shaking hands.

“Thank you for coming and for the opportunity,” I say to the boss man, who is just buying time with me until he can reach Bea.

Bea is nothing but professional the entire meeting, but Mr. Perv Boss Man keeps eyeing her cleavage. Ava is the last one from Nike to shake everyone’s hands, and she slips a piece of paper in mine. Bea glances over, and I shove it in my pocket before she spots it. If I was jealous just by witnessing her interaction with an account, she’d be much worse knowing my ex slipped me a note.

Tim shows the Nike team out, and I move over to my chair to pack up my belongings.

“I think it went great!” Bea’s excitement toward me can be compared to a cheerleader pumping up her high school hockey player boyfriend after a tie game. Optimistic that he did great.

“It went well, but I think he’s more interested in you than the campaign.”
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.

“No, he wasn’t. You’re ridiculous.” She shoos me with her hand.

If this place wasn’t a damn fish bowl, I’d be claiming her on the desk.

The ironic thing is, I was never this jealous or possessive of Ava. She had a best friend who was a guy, and never did I suspect anything or even care that he’d sleep at her apartment on some nights. I think if Bea told me she had a best friend who was a guy, I’d be cutting that shit off.

“Believe me, he was flirting and checking out your cleavage.” I twist on my feet to file out of the room, crossing my fingers that we nailed this account.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

From the distance of her voice, I can tell she hasn’t moved an inch.

I close the door because her voice has a tinge of anger in it.

“I’m not suggesting anything other than that the guy is a pervert and would have nailed you on this table if you had given him the opportunity.”

“I think you’re saying that, if we gain this account, it’s only because he wants to fuck me.” She slams her file folders on the table, placing her hands on her hips.

I laugh.

She doesn’t.

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“You know, men are always thinking that women have to flirt to move up the ladder or use their bodies to seduce the managers to give them a chance. Did you ever think that what I was saying was the truth?”

“I agree with you.” I hold my hands up in the air, trying to calm her down.

But she’s not stopping. She’s like a train on high speed.

“You know what, Dylan McCain? You can go to hell. I should be the one wondering why you saw that cute brunette and bolted out of the room. What was that? Who is she?”

This isn’t exactly how I wanted this conversation to go. I had plans of taking Bea to dinner to celebrate and toss it off that Ava was my ex and that I had no idea she was working for the company, let alone their marketing department. But the way Bea’s eyes are digging into me, I see that I have no time to wait.

“She’s Ava.”

There’s no recollection on Bea’s face. “My ex.”

There it is. Her shoulders deflate for a second. Then, she stacks her folders in her arms again and walks my way.

“Bea,” I say, reaching for her.

But she does some football running back move, dodging my touch.

“She’s pretty,” she says. She saunters out the door, like it doesn’t faze her one bit. Fear jolts inside me that maybe it doesn’t.

I’ve always believed that I’ve been the one pushing this relationship, so if she’s not jealous at all, it could mean I was alone the entire time we were together. Although I wish she wouldn’t act indifferent. Maybe a little cat fight or fighting for your man wouldn’t be so atrocious. Boost my ego a little.

I let out an exasperated breath, shoving my hands into my pockets. My palm swallows the small piece of paper, and I pull it out to see what Ava wants.

I’m at the MGM until tomorrow morning. Room 1734.

“Fuck,” I murmur. I crumple it in my hand and toss it in the trash can on my way out.

The rest of the day, Bea gives me the silent treatment. I stop by her desk after I see John leave their shared cubicle. Sliding into his seat, I spin her around to face me, and her earbuds pop out of her ears.

“What the—” She stops and stares at me. “Yes?”

I lean in close because everyone has ears around here. “How is it my fault that she was here?”

Bea hands me a pad of Post-it notes and a pen. I grab my phone out of my pocket, but she shakes her head, pointing to the antiquated note-taking mechanism.

I roll my eyes but go with it because I can’t handle this cold-shoulder treatment.

I scribble down a quick note.

I had no idea.

She forcefully grabs the pen out of my hand.

Uh-huh.

Instead of taking her pen away, I take another out of John’s penholder.

We won’t reach a mutual decision like this. She’ll never believe me, and I’ll eventually become exhausted from trying, so I cut to the chase.

I’m going to take her to dinner. I need to clear the air.

A low growl rises up Bea’s throat as her death stare commences on me.

I have no choice. She needs to know that we’re through. No chance.

She rips off the neon green Post-it note and starts a new one.

Whatever you have to do . . . Dyl.

My fingernails dig into the arms of John’s chair. She’s so infuriating.

Can I come by after?

She comically laughs, and I don’t need to read what she’s scribbling down to know her answer.

I have plans.

Yes, with me. Remember, naked and fucking?

Another Post-it note gets ripped off and tossed into the trash can. Why she refuses to text this conversation, I have no idea.

Sometimes, plans change.

She twists her seat around, placing her earbuds in. I could be more forceful, make her listen to me, but anyone that knows Bea knows that you can’t force her to do anything.

So, I jot one final note, sliding it toward her. Then, I stand up and leave her small space.

On the way back to my cubicle, I stop in the corner where the two window sides come together. I pull out my phone, finding Ava’s number easily since it’s on my Recent Calls list twenty times.

Me: Meet me at Kilroy’s Pub. 5 p.m.

I wait a few seconds to see if she responds before going back to my desk.

John gives me a wave as he enters the cubicle I just exited. He’ll be happy his chair is still warm.

Ava: Let’s do my room. We can order in dinner.

She attaches a damn wink emoji, and I couldn’t be more annoyed in this moment.

Me: It’s Kilroy’s or nothing.

Instantly, those three dots appear right before a text chimes in.

Ava: Fine. 5 p.m.

I tuck my phone back in my pocket, dreading the conversation that will take place in exactly one hour. She’s been hounding me for weeks, and I need to tell her that I’ve moved on.

An hour later, I walk into Kilroy’s, finding a booth in the back. It’s still empty since most of their patrons come in after work, six o’clock being their peak. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be out of here.
What a dickhead way of thinking. Break a girl’s heart, so I can go fuck another. Damn, Detroit is corrupting me.

I sit with my back to the wall, so I can spot Ava when she walks in. I don’t have to wait long when she strolls in, stopping at the hostess station.

She’s really put on the works tonight.

When I first met Ava, she was simple, jeans and sweater girl, but tonight, she’s all dolled up in a short black skirt and tank-top silk blouse, showing the swell of her tits.
Does she not realize it’s late October in Detroit?
Surely, New York isn’t having warmer weather than us. Then, I spot her jacket hanging off her arm and her purse firm in her hand.

The hostess points over to me, and Ava’s eyes follow. She saunters to me like she’s a stripper on the catwalk, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, making her ass sway. The construction workers in the two booths she just passed are much appreciative of her attire. They refrain from whistling, however.

“Aren’t you going to hug me?” She waits outside the booth, but I just stare. Soon, she gets the hint and sits down. “Why are you so grumpy? I thought you’d be ecstatic to see me.”

The waiter comes over. He stares at her tits that are practically out for everyone to see. She orders her typical Cosmopolitan that became her favorite after she became obsessed with watching
Sex and the City
.

“Why are you here?” I’m impatient to finish this meet-and-greet reunion.

“I tried to call you, but as usual, you never answered.”

I take a sip of my beer.

“If I’d known you would be in the conference room today, I would have returned it. When did you get a job there?”

She shifts in her seat, and for the love of God, I wish she’d put her jacket on. Her nipples are fucking poking out to attention.

“My brother got me the job. I honestly have no deciding factor if your agency gets the pick. I’m just shadowing Janet.”

I nod. Her reasoning makes sense. Ava was still undecided on what she wanted to do, and she had a marketing degree.

“Oh, good luck with them.”

I’m not sure if she senses the conversation drawing to a close, but suddenly, the old Ava is back. The less confident one. The one who loved the flowers, the notes, and the cuddling.

“Please, Dylan. I’ve apologized. What do you want me to do?”

For a second, I’m back in New York, except the roles are reversed. I was desperate to keep us together. Desperate to make our relationship work. Too bad I left those days four hundred miles back there.

“You have nothing to apologize for. We just weren’t a good fit.” I take another long pull of my bottle.

“We were a great couple.”

“At one point, yes. Not anymore.” I take a much-needed breath to end this. Make it final. “Listen, Ava, we don’t have a future.”

Because I’m falling in love with someone else.

As if on cue, Bea walks in the bar with John, Kevin, and Yasmin. She’s smiling and laughing as they walk over to the usual booth we all occupy on Friday nights. I can’t take my eyes off of her and her short blonde hair that she recently died with pink tips for breast cancer. She’s beautiful and energetic and mine.

Why the hell am I sitting here, across from a woman who tossed me to the wolves for a damn wolf?

“I gotta go.” I begin sliding out, but Ava’s hand lands on mine at the exact time my eyes lock with Bea’s.

Bea’s whole demeanor changes. She morphs from happy to sad in less than one second, and my stomach plummets.

I yank my hand out from under Ava’s hold. “Bye, Ava.” I stand up, walk over to the booth, grab Bea’s hand, and pull her out of Kilroy’s as the table of coworker’s gasp.

“I knew it,” John says.

“We all knew it,” Kevin comments.

“How did I not?” Yasmin questions.

Bea wiggles, trying to escape my hold, but my hand tightens on hers. Once we walk out of the bar, a cold rush of air whips around us, and when I move to instinctively close my coat, she escapes.

“Goddamn it, I swear, if you make one more move.”

She sharply turns around, a blonde strand of hair sticking to her glossed lips. “What? What are you going to do, nice guy?” She taunts me, and there’s something oddly appealing to me in this moment.

“You have to fucking listen to me. What is your damn problem?”

“Nothing. I’m going home.”

I jog up to her departing back and take ahold of her upper arm, much to her dismay.

“You’re coming with me.” I turn us in another direction toward the parking garage, and surprisingly, she loses her fight. “She’s nothing to me. I’m over her.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. This thing between us is just casual anyway.”

With that one word
casual
, my blood boils. We reach my car, and I push her against the passenger door.

“Casual would mean you’re fucking around. Are you?” I scour to see some sign of deceit in her eyes. All those rumors about her preoccupy my thoughts.