“He popped out about ten minutes ago.”
“Right,” I say, folding my arms. “And when will he back back?”
She eyes me carefully. “He didn’t say.”
I take the chair next to Monica and we sit in awkward silence. Monica shifts in her seat, and I swear she goes to open her mouth a few times to speak, but each time decides against it.
I pull out my phone and busy myself with it, not helping to make the situation any less awkward. If she wants to say something, then she should just say it.
I guess she eventually draws the same conclusion.
“Zayn told me that you and him are together,”she says speculatively, like she’s waiting for me to deny it again like I did at the law awards. When I turn, it’s to see her curious face appraising me, and I just know she’s trying to determine what I could possibly have that she doesn’t. I’ve been wondering the same thing.
“Yes, we are now. And I would appreciate you keeping it professional between you two.”
She knows I’m referring to where she chooses to plant her ass in Zayn’s office, and a red stain spreads across her cheeks. I may have told her last week that we weren’t together, but Zayn clearly corrected her since then and she chose to ignore him.
“He always told me he never wanted commitment,” she says in a low voice, averting her gaze. She clears her throat and busies her hands with her documents. “I assumed he meant at all, not just with me.”
Despite my feelings toward Monica, my heart takes a dive at the hurt that laces her words. I know what it’s like to be in love with Zayn but not able to have him. I’d lived with that pain for ten years. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.
“We have a lot of history. It’s hard to compete with that,” I say gently, even though this woman is, technically, trying to get with my boyfriend. “Like you said, it’s hard to get over your first love. I guess neither Zayn or I ever did.”
She nods to herself and picks up her pen, and I sit with the uncomfortableness of knowing that for the foreseeable future, Zayn and Monica will be working alongside each other and I don’t know how to feel about that.
Glancing around Zayn’s office with a sigh, my gaze lands on something else I didn’t notice when I walked in. The mug I bought him from the markets. For a moment, I’m shocked that he actually brought it into work. Then, a warm feeling dribbles into my chest and wraps around my heart.
Zayn’s showed me countless times since he’s returned that he cares about me. Sure, it’s scary to put my heart on the line again, but I need to trust him if this is going to work between us. And I want that more than anything.
I’m smiling to myself when the door opens behind us and Monica and I both spin around to watch Zayn stride in. Instantly, it’s as though all the air gets sucked out of the room. His presence is devastation and exhilaration rolled into one, and honestly, I can’t blame Monica for wanting him when he looks like he should be modelling his suit somewhere on a runway. Despite the conversation we just had, I notice Monica still sits up straighter and flicks her hair over her shoulder a little provocatively at his arrival, and any pity I had for her gets exorcised from my body like a demon.
“What are you still doing in here?” Zayn surprises me by addressing her with such apathy I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. “I told you our meeting was over.”
“I have some further questions about the Clive-”
Zayn tosses a file down onto his desk, effectively cutting her off. “Then I question your competence for the job. I answered all your questions earlier, now please leave so I can speak to my girlfriend in private.”
Silence rings around the office as Monica collects herthings, sending me one last assessing look before hightailing it out of Zayn’s office. She shuts the door behind her.
“Are you okay?”
I’m not sure if Zayn’s referring to Monica, Daniel, or both.
No, I’m not okay. I’m about to be in the same room as my estranged husband and rapist and your ex fuck buddy was just sitting on your desk like she was lunch.
“I’m fine.”
Zayn leans back against his desk and folds his arms across his chest, levelling his narrowed gaze on me. “Let’s cut the bullshit and try that again.”
My irrational side speaks before I can stop it. “Monica still wants you.”
My words settle heavy in the air between us.
It’s a non-question that I want to hear his response to. I look from the artwork on the wall to the silly mug on his desk, anywhere but Zayn’s face, even though I can feel him watching me closely.
“Even if that were true, it’s a non-issue. I only want you.”
The conviction in his words is unwavering. I swallow, then force myself to take a calming breath. I need to let the Monica thing go. I’ve decided to trust Zayn, so now I need to follow through with that.
