Beautiful Surrender(13)

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop me from waking up at the usual seven. Habit can be a bitch sometimes.

I immediately checked my phone and realized I had turned it off the previous night. Remembering why I had done so, I chose to leave it off. Still groggy but unusually hungry, I decided to start the morning with a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, and sausage, hoping the meal would help me fall back asleep.

Fortunately it did the trick. I ended up sleeping well into the afternoon. I woke up and immediately went to the couch to veg out in front of the TV. There was a lot on my mind and I wanted to drown it out, which is why I tuned into Bridezillas—my guilty pleasure. Except I felt no guilt watching it, only pure unadulterated pleasure.

Just when a bride’s grandmother said she looked like a slut in her chosen wedding gown, I heard a rustling across the hall. I looked out my peephole and saw Kurt and Bernie moving boxes from their apartment. I’d barely gotten to know them and they were already moving out. Bernie’s face was looking a lot better without all the blood, although it was a bit swollen. His deep tan made it less noticeable, though.

I thought about stepping out to say something to them but everything I could think of sounded awkward: “Thanks for beating up my ex-boyfriend yesterday . . . I think? How do you two know Vincent? So . . . do you guys tan together?”

I ended up watching them for a few minutes then returning to my show.

They didn’t have much stuff, so after a few hours, I heard them finish and lock up. I spent the rest of the day vegging out on the couch, thinking about my situation.

I was still upset with Vincent even though I knew he cared about me and I cared about him. It only made it that much more painful that he lied to me. There were trust issues Vincent and I had to work out and that would take time and effort.

Then there was the issue of work. Carl was feeding me opportunities and I’d been snapping them up, which made me busier and busier. Vincent seemed to be in a similar situation with his company occupying most of his time the past few weeks.

Even though my employers hadn’t found out about my relationship with Vincent, it was still becoming a problem. It needed work and neither of us had the time to do it—at least not without making significant sacrifices.

When the latest episode ended with the bride literally pulling chunks of her own hair out, I came to the conclusion that I was going to take a break from my relationship with Vincent. I couldn’t keep going with things the way they were. If I didn’t make a change, I would lose my mind.

***

On Sunday afternoon I finally gave in to turning on my phone. I was going to call Vincent and tell him we should take a break. Closing my bedroom door, I picked up my phone from the nightstand and turned it on. There were a bunch of unread text messages—some of them new and some of them from Friday when I ran out of the restaurant.

I ignored the messages and called him.

He answered on the first ring. “Kristen?”

His silky voice had its usual effect on me even though I knew to prepare for it. “Vincent . . .”

He released an audible exhale and I could picture his chest lowering from the release of air. “I’m so glad to hear your voice. I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again and that scared me.”

“Hey Vincent. Listen . . . I need to tell you something.” I had to push this conversation forward before Vincent’s persuasive hold took effect. Otherwise, I’d begin doubting my decision. Fortunately, it was much easier to resist him on the phone than in person.

“Wait. Just a moment.” I heard some mumbling in the background. “Shit. I’m sorry, Kristen. I have a meeting right now. But whatever you want to tell me sounds important. Is it an emergency? Can I meet you later? I’ll try my hardest to be done by six.”

“You’re at work on a Sunday?”

There was another mumble in the background. “Yeah, sorry. We have a lot going on over here right now.”

I breathed deeply, reaffirmed in my decision that we were both too busy to make this work. “I’ll drop by your office at six thirty then.”

Meeting him at his office as opposed to his place or my place would make it easier to leave after the discussion. It would’ve been easier just to tell him over the phone but I supposed it was more appropriate to handle this in person.

His voice brightened. “Can’t wait to see you then.”

“Bye Vincent.”





When evening rolled around, I gingerly stepped out my front door in jeans and a t-shirt. It’d been nearly two days since I left the apartment. I made sure to pack my taser in my purse before I went over to Vincent’s office in case I ran into any more trouble along the way.