Page 71 of Big & Bossy

Me: Uh, yeah, I’ll be there.

Mandy: Okay. If you say so.

Me: Mandy. Come on.

The seconds ticked by again, pushing the acid up my esophagus.

Mandy: See you in a bit.

————

I didn’t bother with trying to fit in a quick nap.

I’d hopped from the home office to the shower, from the shower to the kitchen, barely stomached my breakfast, got my shit together, and headed out early. I didn’t want to risk missing another thing — not when she was already upset with me, not when I didn’t want to fuck this up any further. I’d been distant, yes, but if I ended this it would be because I had to, not because I’d fucked up.

The event was in Denver this time, close to home. Mandy had insisted on driving herself instead of riding with me, and although it grated on me, I would overlook it for her. Stubborn and independent.

I pushed my way through the doors on the other side of check-in, my eyes scanning the crowd of the main room. It wasn’t too packed yet. These things rarely were this early in the morning, and if she wasn’t here yet, I was more than willing to wait.

It didn’t take long.

Less than thirty minutes later, as I sipped a cup of black coffee and one of the spare seats in the room, Mandy came through the doors. Her wild hair was up in a bun, her wool jacket covering the slacks and button-up shirt she wore. Boots on the bottom.

Not dressing for me, then.

Her sullen eyes met mine, barely-covered dark circles beneath them. She huffed out a breath before looking away, bee-lining for the coffee cart.

I have to talk to her.

I lifted myself up out of the chair, pushing through the growing crowd of people until I stood behind her as she ordered her coffee. I knew she could feel my presence — could see the way she stiffened from the heat of my body, the way her breath shallowed as the man behind the cart told her the total.

I tapped my phone on the card reader before she could protest.

“Is that necessary?” She hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the side and out of the line. “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own coffee.”

“I know that. I was just trying to be nice.”

“It’s rude either way. I don’t need you throwing your money at me,” she snapped. She threw a quick thank-you to the man as he handed over her coffee.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

I slid my hand along her back, ushering her away from the coffee cart and back toward the stalls that were beginning to open up. She walked silently beside me, her left hand clutching the paper cup. I tried to keep my eyes trained on hers, trying to pick up the things she was interested in and pulling her towards them, but instead, I couldn’t keep myself from looking at the lack of a ring on her fucking finger.

I didn’t want to think about the why. I had to believe she’d just taken it off for something and forgot to put it back on, but the idea of her taking it off in the first place was enough to make my stomach sink and my blood boil.

Even if I desperately tried to avoid the thoughts, they filed in anyway.

She doesn’t love you.

It’s all a lie.

You’ve read too much into this.

You’re nothing to her.

I wanted to throw up.

I spent the majority of the event in a daze, hardly able to participate in a single conversation with her or the people she connected with, half because I was so wrapped in my own thoughts of her and half because I was running on three hours of sleep over the last forty-eight hours. Not only were there others in the business here, but potential clientele for her as well. As much as I loved to listen to her speak about the thing she cared the most about— including pinball—I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t bring myself to actively listen, only random numbers and giggles filtering in through the haze.

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