“Tu es certaine? You don’t look so good, me.”
I wonder if this is what it feels like when your world begins to collapse.
Connor
I watch Dennis leavewith the property listings tucked under his arm, then turn back to Meesha. Her smile seems forced. Something’s off.
“Are you okay, ma belle?” I place my hand on her forehead like Maman used to do when I was sick. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine.” She places her hands on my shoulders and reaches up to kiss me.
This isn’t the Meesha I know. My Meesha would have bounced into my office with a story about her day, mentioning a patient who made her laugh or sharing some hospital gossip.
She’d sit on the edge of my desk, legs swinging, as she talked. This tense woman in front of me feels like a stranger. The discrepancy makes my gut knot uncomfortably.
“You wanted to tell me something?” I pull away to look into her eyes.
“There was a pipe burst at Bridal Elegance this morning. My wedding dress got ruined.”
“Tabarnac,” I mutter. “That’s terrible. So what happens now? Will they order another?”
“Yes.” She sinks to her knees and begins removing my belt. “It should be here in two weeks.”
I gently grasp her wrists, stopping her. “Meesha, what are you doing?”
Her eyes dart up to mine, a mix of determination and something like desperation in them. “I need you to take my stress away, Connor.”
I glance at the door, which isn’t locked. My receptionist could walk in at any moment. “This isn’t like you.”
“Maybe I want to be spontaneous.”
I help her to her feet. This sudden sexual aggression feels off.
“Tell me what’s really going on,” I say softly.
“Nothing’s going on. I just want to do something different for once.” She pulls away from me, crossing her arms over her chest. The sudden shift in her demeanor catches me off guard.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come here.” She grabs her purse and turns toward the door.
“Meesha, wait.” I reach for her arm, but she sidesteps me.
“Why? So you can tell me everything will be fine?” Her voice rises, and I glance nervously at the door, hoping my receptionist can’t hear.
“Where is this coming from?”
“Come on, Connor. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Our whole relationship is just... predictable.”
“Predictable?”
“Yes. And boring!” She throws her hands up. “When was the last time we did something spontaneous? Something exciting? Something that wasn’t planned weeks in advance and written into your little schedule?”
I stare at her, stunned. My jaw clenches tight enough to feel a twinge of pain shoot through my temple. This doesn’t sound like my Meesha at all.
“C’est pas juste, ça. You’re not fair.”
“Aren’t I? You couldn’t even let me give you head in your office. What man turns that down?” She makes to leave again.
