Chapter 7
Fiona
Friday, two weeks after my hike, I was at work when my secretary told me I had a two o’clock.
“I don’t remember having a client,” I said to Louise.
“Well, he’s coming up anyway,” she said and hung up the phone.
He? There was only one person it could be. I sighed, my stomach sinking. I hadn’t seen him in a while because he had been away, and it had been the most peaceful three weeks of my life. We had broken up, but Randy still insisted on seeing me, telling me he wanted to be friends.
I would have been able to handle our breakup a lot better if we’d made a clean break so I could move forward. I didn’t want to see the asshole ever again. But he knew where I lived, and he knew where I worked, and he was much too nice for a restraining order. Unless I moved and found a new job, I wasn’t going to get rid of him.
“How are you doing, babes?” Randy asked, walking into my office.
I sighed. “Don’t call me that. We’re not together.”
“Sorry. Fiona. Old habits die hard.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I want to tell you about my trip.”
I nodded, groaning inwardly. I didn’t want to hear about his trip, about how much fun he’d had without me. I didn’t want to know anything about his life, now. I wanted to get over him. He was making it hard for me by pretending like nothing was wrong, like a relationship of three years hadn’t just come to an end.
“You should have been there, babes. A sea, bluer than you can imagine, cocktails on the beach every day and those dancing ladies at night at those parties, what do you call them?” He snapped his fingers, trying to find the word.
“Luau,” I said. “And don’t call me babes.”
“That’s the one. Fiona. Sorry. It was heaven.”
I tuned out listening to Randy go on and on about his vacation. I wasn’t interested in hearing him talk about himself. It was all he ever talked about. Why had it taken me so long to realize it? As long as I gasped in the right places, he would go on without knowing I wasn’t paying attention. That I knew that showed that I had slipped into a rut with him. I indulged him, I gave him what he wanted. Maybe that was why he thought I was boring. It was what I had thought he wanted.
Instead of listening to Randy, I thought about the Viking. Laird. Blonde hair, a thick beard and those dark eyes that stared right into my soul. My stomach tightened when I thought about his naked body, how good it had felt to be with him. He had been gifted with his mouth, giving me an orgasm with his tongue and his finger. Damn, I got wet just thinking about it. It had been two weeks ago, and I still shivered when I thought about him. Which happened often. What I wouldn’t give to have another go at it. I wanted to look into those eyes again and feel his body on top of mine again. It was ridiculous, but I wanted to be with him again.
“Fiona,” Randy said, snapping his fingers. I was immediately irritated. At least he hadn’t called me babes.
“What?”
“You’re not even listening to me. What are you smiling about?”
I pulled up my shoulder. “I was thinking about the hike I went on.”
“What hike?”
“I told you I was going on a hike with Jamie before you left. It was a lot of fun.”
“So?” Randy asked. He looked at me like it wasn’t fair that I’d had fun without him, that he had the monopoly on having fun after a breakup. But I didn’t care what he thought. We had been broken up for a few months now and even though he was making it hard for me to forget about him because he was constantly in my life, I had done things without him that I’d never done before. I had been having fun, and even though I’d resented him for saying I was boring and it was the reason he’d left me, I had never had fun while I was with him.
I now thought that losing him was a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t be the way I was and having fun if I hadn’t been trying to prove him wrong.
My phone rang. “I have to get this,” I said to Randy and answered before he could respond. It was a reason to shut him up and God knows I needed more of those.
“Hi, this is Rachel from Lost Art Tattoo Studio. I’m calling to confirm your tattoo booking for tomorrow.”
“Absolutely, I’ll be there,” I said, thanking Rachel before hanging up. I thought about the tattoo I was going to get. I was getting it because of Randy, too. He hated women with tattoos. So I was getting more and more. The first had been as a fuck you to him. I had liked the freedom of expression, and even though I was still trying to prove him wrong, I had gotten hook on getting inked and wanted more. I was addicted, I had to admit it.
“Where were we?” Randy asked.
Where indeed? I was sick of this shit. It was a repeat. We were stuck on a loop and we played this game over and over. When was I going to stop? When was I going to stick up for myself and put my foot down? Now the best time.
“You were talking about you. I’m not even sure why I had to be present for that,” I said.
Randy blinked at me, shocked that I snapped. I had never snapped at him. I had let him get away with all his shit like an undisciplined child. I asked myself again why it had taken so long for me to figure out what I needed to do with him. The contrast between Randy and Laird was so big that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen Randy for who he was before.
I hadn’t seen myself for who I was, either.
“Why are you being like this?” Randy asked.
I wanted to answer him, say something bitchy, but I suddenly felt lightheaded and my stomach turned. I leaned forward and gasped for air. I took shallow breaths. Breathing in deeply only made the feeling worse.
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good,” Randy said.
I shook my head, pressing my hand to my mouth and jumped up. I ran to my bathroom – thank God I had a private one and I didn’t need to run to the public restroom in the tea room. I fell to my knees and threw up violently into the toilet. I retched, my stomach turned and contracted, throwing my lunch and what was left of my breakfast into the toilet bowl. I dry heaved for a while after my stomach was empty before I finally pushed up. I wiped my mouth with a paper towel and rinsed my face. I looked terrible, my mascara making dark circles after my eyes had been watering and I tried to fix it.
What the hell was wrong with me? I never threw up. Not even when I got wasted, which was its own curse. I had to get home and get in bed. Maybe it was something I ate.
When I came out of the bathroom, Randy was in my chair.
“Get out,” I said to him. I had password protected my email, changing all my passwords to something he wouldn’t know.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m not in the mood, Randy,” I said. I felt like shit. “Just leave.”
He shrugged and walked out of the office like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was so typical Randy. When it revolved around him and his life, he would be more than interested. Seeing that it was my life and he wasn’t a part of what was going on, he didn’t give shit. He hadn’t even cared while we had been together. It should have been a major red flag.
I didn’t know where Randy was headed when he walked out of my office. He didn’t turn toward the elevators to leave. I didn’t care. He was out of my office and I could go home and nurse this awful feeling in my stomach. Ginger tea would do the trick. My mom had taught me that, growing up.
I suddenly missed my parents something awful. I had been to hell and back and I had been fine, but this was the last straw. I wished I could still lean on them.
I grabbed my bag and locked my office before I headed home so Randy couldn’t come back and cause shit. If anyone needed me, they could wait until after the weekend or fetch the keys from me, personally. I was going to crawl into bed and sleep. It was exactly what I needed.