I run my hand through my hair.

I just had one of the best experiences and one of the worst experiences of my life at the same time. That was one of our best times having sex. But it also felt like good-bye. And I’m nowhere near ready to say good-bye to Ivy. I haven’t had a chance to explain. She deserves the truth. Hopefully, she will give me a second chance. That’s all I want.

But the way that Ivy just ran out of here, I know that I’m not going to get that second chance.

I bend down and start picking up the picture frames and papers from the floor. I slowly gather them up and then take my time as I put them back on my desk. I use it as a distraction really. A way to give Ivy more time to herself. Because I know that’s what she wants right now. Time to think. And I want to give her a lot of time because it gives me time to think, too. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to tell her the rest.

But, when I finish putting everything back together on my desk, I can’t wait any longer. I walk out of my office and start making my way down to the restroom to wait for her. One of my colleagues, Bruno, stops me before I get to the restroom.

“Hey, bro. You’re not supposed to be working tonight, are you?”

“No.”

“Um, then why are you here?” Bruno asks, being nosy.

“Just showing my girlfriend my office.”

Bruno’s eyes widen, as he finally makes the connection. I’m sure he heard the sex noises earlier and is now realizing that it was me and Ivy.

“Sounded like you two were having a good time. Good thing the boss doesn’t usually work on Friday nights; otherwise, you would’ve gotten a stern talking-to.”

“Good thing then because I don’t know if I can handle a stern talking-to,” I say sarcastically.

“You definitely can’t. The boss has a way of making you feel really horrible.”

“I really should be going.”

“Oh, yeah. I should be going, too. I should be working or something,” Bruno says.

We go our separate ways.

I don’t want to talk to anyone else in my office. I don’t want to hear about meaningless things about our job. The people here think what we do is important. I’m sure it is to some people. But, to me, they are the little things.

I stare at the restroom door, waiting for her to open it, but after five minutes, it doesn’t. I grow worried that Ivy is more upset than I thought. Or maybe she left and got a cab or something to take her home. Either way, I need to know now.

I push the door open as I say, “Ivy?”

I look around the corner at the sink, but no one is there.

“Ivy?” I shout again.

I bend down to see if I can find her in any of the stalls, but I don’t see anyone. I push each door open, but no one is inside. She’s not here.

Shit.

I run back out of the restroom and down the hall, toward the elevators. I see Marsha, our secretary, sitting behind her desk.

I stop abruptly. “Marsha, have you seen Ivy?”

She looks at me, confused.

“Have you seen the woman I came up here with? She’s black. She has long, curly black hair. She’s thin and beautiful. She was wearing a dress, and if you look closely, she is covered in dog hair.”

“Oh. She just left.”

“Shit.” I run my hand through my hair as I start running down the hall after her.

“But you should know that she was with another man!” Marsha yells after me.

I freeze. Ivy wouldn’t have been with another man. She’s not that cruel or heartless to do something like that to me.

I backtrack to Marsha. “What kind of man? What did he look like?”

Marsha shrugs. “I don’t know. Medium height, medium build. He was balding a little, and he looked upset about something. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Probably just a friend. There’s nothing going on between them. You look about a million times better than he did.”

This leads me to be even more confused. I pull out my cell phone and dial Ivy’s number, begging her to pick up the phone. She doesn’t.

I run to my car and drive as fast as I can toward her home.

I knock loudly on her door. No answer. I have to break the window to get inside her home, but I don’t care. I’ll fix it later. When I enter, I expect to find her angry and upset because I just broke the window. I expect to find her curled up on the couch with her dogs and cats. But I don’t see any signs of her anywhere in the house.

I take the next hour to try to calm myself while I wait for her to come home with some other guy. She doesn’t come home though. Another hour passes, and she still hasn’t come home.

I try calling her again and again and again.

No answer.

I don’t know why it takes me so long to realize I fucked up. It just hits me. And I know what happened.

I pick up my phone and dial Skye’s number. “Skye, can you take care of my dog and Ivy’s pets for me? Can you do that?”

“What the hell happened?”

“I fucked up.”