Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I was tired and anxious that it would affect my eligibility for a promotion. I made my way wearily back to my office and struggled to focus on the project at hand. It wasn’t even eleven in the morning, and I wanted to go home and go to sleep, the exhaustion of this ordeal weighing on me. When Ethan messaged me, I called him.
“She was here again.”
“Olivia? Call the cops, Noah. It’s past time to let them handle this. It’s time to file for a restraining order.”
“I don’t want to involve the police. It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to relive all this in great detail, go over every single day of the relationship, every incident where she’s shown up someplace I happened to be. It’s humiliating, Ethan.”
“It’s time. That way she can’t come near you without paying a fine or spending time in jail. Maybe the fear of punishment can get through to her.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m going to focus on becoming a partner. Once I’ve accomplished that, I can consider what is best to do about this situation. If Olivia is even still messing with me at that point.”
“She’s not going away. You’ve tried waiting it out, and you’ve tried kindness. You’ve told her to stop, and you even tried to get her help. The next obvious step is to involve the authorities, no matter how much you want to avoid it," Ethan said.
I heaved a sigh and told him I’d speak to him later. I attended the weekly progress meeting and gave an update on the projections for my proposed initiative and sleepwalked through the small talk with my bosses. Back in my office I wrapped up details on the explanatory document on the quarterly returns for my newest managed fund. I proofread it and shared it with the partners and the president of the board of directors.
When my phone rang, I was going to let it go to voicemail until I saw it was Madison. I answered, and she said, “Hey, are you busy for lunch? I thought I could make you something if you have time to run by my apartment. You’re not working through lunch again, are you?”
“No, not today,” I said, knowing I needed to get out of the office for a while. I didn’t have anything on my schedule until two. I had plenty of time for a long lunch. “Want me to bring anything?”
“I’d say wine, but I’m pretty sure you have to go back to work. We don’t want a tipsy financial manager pushing the buttons,” she giggled.
“I’ll be there shortly,” I said. “Thanks.”
I set the out-of-office message on my email and phone and took off. I felt free as I drove to her building and climbed the stairs. When she opened the door to her small apartment and let me in, I almost sagged with relief. I sank into a chair and listened to her talk excitedly about the zucchini bread recipe she thought she’d perfected last night. I ate the hearty soup she had made and a cheddar and chive scone as well.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said.
“I had a rough morning. This lunch with you was exactly what I needed. It was a rescue,” I told her.
“Yeah, beef and barley save the day,” she quipped.
“It saved me. I mean it.”
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” she offered as she cleared the dishes away. “You can try my zucchini masterpiece too.”
“I have to sing for my supper then?”
“No, you have to spill the tea to get dessert,” she returned, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”
“That’s fair,” I said, accepting a slice of cinnamon-scented bread that was tender and sweet. “It’s good. Better than what I have to tell you about.”
“It’s very good. I don’t expect you to compete with it.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said. “It’s a long story. If you decide you don’t want to hear it all, you can stop me.”
“I asked what was wrong. I want to know what you’re worried about.”
“Okay then,” I said, taking a drink of water before I began.
She turned toward me, one knee bent in front of her on the couch, looked me in the eye, and gave me her full attention.
“A few months ago, I broke up with a woman I’d been seeing. We were together about a month, nothing long-term, nothing serious. She met my brothers once, and I met her friends for drinks before a concert. We didn’t see each other every night or move in together. She had us Instagram official, but that was important to her.” I took another deep breath like I was diving into deep water.
“When did you break up?”
“December.”
“December as in last year? That’s not a few months. That’s like ten months. Anyway, sorry I interrupted.”
“It’s okay. Olivia was dramatic and jealous, making everything become an argument. I broke things off, but she didn’t take it well. For a few weeks, she would show up at my apartment and I wouldn’t let her in, or she’d be at the grocery store, Starbucks, or outside my office building. I ran into her constantly, and every time she had insisted it was a coincidence, but really it was that she was so in love with me that we had to give it another try. The more she showed up, the more angry it made me, because to a reasonable person, if I broke up with you because you’re dramatic and make such a fuss, then making a bigger fuss isn’t going to make me want you back.”