Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
As I climb the few flights toward Ramona’s floor, I frown as I take in the chipping paint, broken banisters, and dirty windows. This place is a hellhole, and I’m going to get her out of here ASAP. But once outside her apartment door, I hesitate. Am I coming on too strong? Am I being a complete asshole? Then, Bruce’s words come back to me.
Lose your ego, he said. I take a deep breath. My buddy’s right. I have to hear what Ramona has to say, so I knock, trying to calm myself down. No sense in appearing like a raging bull, ready to steamroll any protests.
After what feels like ages, the latch clicks and I see the knob turn. I stand up straighter, feeling all of my anger begin to boil to the surface again. Fuck ego! I’m going to wring her neck once we get to the bottom of this.
But then the door opens, and I don’t know who is more shocked: Ramona upon seeing me outside her apartment or me upon seeing what a mess my woman has become. I take in her dirty sweatpants, messy hair, and torn t-shirt. She’s still incredibly beautiful, even wearing rags with a rat’s nest on her head.
“Where the hell have you been?” I demand, no longer caring to control my emotions.
Her lips tremble and her eyes tear, but I ignore them. Ramona Monk is going to give me answers, even if I have to squeeze each word from her one by one.
14
Ramona
I stare at the man in my doorway, openmouthed and panicking.
“Carlton,” I manage to sputter. I touch my hair, wondering what I must look like. The ends are sticking out in every direction, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I washed it.
Then, I look down at my stain-covered sweatpants. Oh god. There’s a dark blob at the crotch from some juice I spilled, and one knee has some dried-up Cheez Whiz on it. But what can I do? He’s already seen my ugly clothes, so I slip my hands into my pockets and glower at the man I thought I loved.
“Where the hell have you been?” Carlton demands. His voice is sharp and his usually gorgeous eyes are icy blue. I shudder under his harsh gaze, but just as quickly remind myself that he’s the one at fault as much, if not more, than I am.
I square my shoulders and try to match his anger with my own.
“I told you to leave me alone,” I tell him, hoping that my voice conveys indifference and not the very real panic that’s flooding through my body. “Anyways, how did you get my address?” I demand.
Carlton strides further into my apartment. I immediately see the stacks of dirty dishes, the unwashed laundry, and the pile of bills scattered across on the kitchen counter. I blush fiercely, embarrassed for Carlton to see me living like a barn animal.
But the man doesn’t seem to really notice the mess. Instead, he whirls around to face me, his face contorted with rage and some unexplainable emotion.
“I called you,” he berates me instead of answering my question. “I texted you, and I emailed you.”
“So I didn’t want to talk,” I retort angrily. “Why, is that a crime?”
“No, but where have you been?” His voice is so loud that it echoes across my tiny apartment.
I sigh, suddenly too tired to fight. I wanted Carlton to fade into the background of my life, as a story for my old age. But now that he’s here, I’m exhausted and uncertain about what I should do.
The CEO doesn’t need my input to continue his rant, however. “Do you think it’s okay to just become a shut-in?” he demands angrily, his big body coiled with pent-up rage. “To just ignore the people in your life, to not give a damn when we had no idea if you were okay or not? Do you think it’s right to leave me again, without a single word of explanation, just like you did twelve years ago?”
I sputter angrily and sit down hard on my couch. Me, leave him? Ha. But Carlton starts to pace around my small living room, gesticulating wildly as he continues to rage.
“If you needed some space, a simple message would have sufficed. Or if you’re going through something, you could have specified that, too. What the hell is going on with you, Ramona? Do you think ghosting is the mature thing to do? We’re not kids anymore and it’s so fucking immature!”
I gaze up at the powerful man, blinking back tears. Every part of me wants to tell him that I’m pregnant, but I’m still reeling from the fact that he betrayed me with Melody.
Before I can say a word, Carlton keeps shouting. “And you quit your job? What the fuck, Ramona? Why would you do that? You were getting quality work finally, and we were a good team. Have you lost your mind?”