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Julia: You and my therapist both.
Julia: Maybe we should both go and make a new friend.
Me: You’re the only friend I want.
And even more slowly and even more surely, I admit how much I need her.
Me: I want to make it up to you.
Me: Come to Montana.
Julia: Not yet.
Me: I miss you.
Julia: I miss you too.
Me: Can I come see you?
Julia: Soon.
And the entire time, I crave her body. Her touch. I’ve always been physical. My whole life, expressing myself through touch was easier than words.
She doesn’t want my touch right now, I know. Even if she does want me, she won’t give in. I don’t want her to give in. I want it to be right. I want to be right for her.
So until then, I’m alone as usual—steadily falling for the pixels on my phone screen.
***
Two months later
“Need anything?” Brent whispers as he pours my coffee. He shoots me a knowing look before glancing down the length of the long glass conference table where FundRight’s board of directors has gathered. There’s a pleasant smell of hot pastries and fresh coffee in the air, cutting the suffocating tension in the room. Best case scenario: We make it out of here in three hours and nobody threatens to ruin anybody else’s career. Worst case scenario: a boardroom bloodbath.
“Stay close,” I advise.
Brent nods before making his exit. He’ll be outside the door. If I give him the signal, he’ll swoop right in and pretend I have a pressing phone call.
I check my phone for a text from Julia, but she hasn’t sent anything today.
Me: It’s been 62 days since I last saw you.
At some point, I worried about sounding desperate. Now? Doesn’t matter. She knows I’m desperate to see her. My requests (near-pleas) now go out daily. But the past two months have taught us both so much about each other. At this point, nobody knows me better than Julia Ridgeway—which is insane when I reflect on how we met and got to know each other in the first place.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her this morning though. My chairman, Roger motions for me to start the meeting, so I kick things off. It’s our first meeting since the acquisition was formally announced in January, which makes this meeting a formality since we’ll steadily transfer control to Davenport-Ridgeway over the next twelve months.
The board was split on the acquisition at first. Even when the vote to approve went through, they were still 70-30. In other words, thirty percent of the people in the room absolutely hate me. Frankly, it’s a lower percentage than most rooms, so I don’t give a shit. But Roger told me to play nice.
I do. I sit quietly while a few board members throw out passive aggressive comments about letting Davenport-Ridgeway take over. To them, we sold out. Normally I would have a caustic comment for them, but like I said—I’m playing nice.
Boring—that’s what playing nice is.
Sighing, I glance at my phone. No response.
The minutes crawl. I get through two cups of coffee in a half hour and we’re still—still—hashing out the merits of an already-finalized acquisition. I check my phone again. Apparently, I only sent the message to Julia forty minutes ago, but it feels like hours.
I look around the room at these people, knowing what I know. I toyed with their money all so I could revenge-fuck a woman who was mean to me. It was petty as hell, but all said and done, it was worth it.
I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder where she is right now. She could be anywhere. I wonder—does she ever wake up in the morning and sit on the couch in her pajamas and read the news?
