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She probably thinks I forgot about her, but I’m sure when she learns the circumstances, she will forgive me.
And while I’m glad I didn’t cause Gramps a heart attack, I’ve still disappointed him to where I’m just not sure I’ll be able to forgive myself.
No Mistakin’ Fake Bacon
Genesis
Theclockonmydesk reads 10:57 AM.
I’ve done my IN-BOX, filed my OUT-BOX, and I swear the hands have barely budged. Lunch can’t come fast enough.
Natalie and I need to talk.
I already know what I’m going to do with my situation with Royce. I just want her support in doing it.
When Royce and I last spoke, over three weeks ago, our...relationshipwas on fire.
And it has gone downhill to... well,dire.
My heart stutters as I think back to our last conversation. Since then, we’ve only communicated through one-liner texts. It’s telling that he hasn’t bothered to carve out just a little time for me.
“Hey, Gen,” Natalie says, leaning around her cubicle. “Can you get me access to JIRA for Josiah?”
“Sure thing, Nat.”
And thank you for pulling me from my thoughts.
With the last of the new hires starting on Monday of next week, I’m overloaded with scheduling their training and getting their equipment together.
Hasn’t been easy to focus, considering, and if it weren’t for Thomas, I don’t think I could function as well as I have been.
At the office, Thomas and I keep our distance. We merely nod if we pass each other in the corridors and if I have a meeting with him, we keep things strictly professional.
After hours, we are the best of buds. He comes to the apartment most nights (or we eat out the other times), and since he likes to cook, we share a glass or more of wine over dinner and commiserate in each other’s heartbreak.
Mine with Royce and Thomas’s with Royce’s intended: Tiffany Primrose.
He’d met her at a party the night before Royce came to Texas. He’d called herfakefor getting engaged to a man she hardly knew. She called him a pretentious windbag and told him to go to hell.
Love at first sight.
They kept running into each other, exchanging snide remarks every time they did. One night, they were forced to share a cab. Between the Meatpacking District and downtown Brooklyn, something clicked. From the next day onward, they started going out. A movie here. A dinner there. They attended rallies and art shows. Soon they were arriving at parties together. And during a walk through Central Park, they expressed their love for each other.
Almost around the same time, I recognized my love for Royce for what it was.
That’s why it is so damn hard for us to understand what the hellwedid wrong. If Royce and Tiffany loved us like they say they do… (more likelydid),why don’t they act like it?
At least Thomas has talked to Tiffany, although she has said little in the way of their future.
And Royce and I? Except for the few texts he has sent that have no meat and no meaning, I’ve received nothing.
Nada.
Nichego.
And I’ve had enough of it. There is only so much rejection I can take and I’m at my limit. I’m going to call him tonight, over and over, until he answers, and when he does, I’m going to be the one to tell him we’re done.
Nat and I walk through the gate of the chain-link fence to enter the food truck area. It’s a little after noon. We timed it just right as there are a few tables still available.
