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I shake my head as I think about the beautiful brunette, with her bright smile and sparkling personality. The woman’s so much like the tomboy I used to know, and yet so different too, with her soft, lush figure and knowing smile. Now, I can hardly imagine a day without her.
I shake my head at my own attraction. It’s insane because usually, I just use women for their bodies. But with Ramona, it’s different. It’s more than just the physical interaction, it’s her. Yet does she feel the same about me? Or am I just someone new and exciting, the first during her foray into the world of men?
Suddenly, I realize I’m head over heels for my childhood friend, and the knowledge is astonishing. Startled, I blink several times as I attempt to grapple with the truth I’ve just admitted to myself.
I’m in love with Ramona Monk.
I literally jerk to a halt on the sidewalk, heart racing. But as I try to control my reaction, the more I realize how true it is. I’ve fallen in love with the curvy girl, and want no one but her at my side.
A moment later, my car arrives, disrupting my unexpected revelation. Settled into the warm backseat and finally on my way home, I let myself enjoy the flood of emotions that come with realizing how suddenly my life has changed now that Ramona is a part of it. Even if she doesn’t adore me yet, I’ll win her over because that’s what Carlton James does. I plan to claim the woman who belongs to me, and Ramona Monk will be mine.
12
Ramona
I stand in the conference room at Concord Design, examining the new layouts that Carrie and I put together for the Dissidence project. It hasn’t been an easy assignment, but I’ve never had so much fun at work before either. Over the past three months, Carlton has stayed true to his word and made certain that I’ve had ample responsibilities. Currently, I’m reviewing one of the redesigns we proposed, hoping that he likes the new ideas.
I smile slightly as I take in the sharp lines and colorful renderings. Every time I work on this project, I try to keep Carlton at the center of my vision. The man is an enigma, fun and flirtatious one moment, stoic and hawk-eyed the next. Although he’s never unduly harsh, he’s certainly made his opinion known and demanded revisions or improvements as needed.
In a way, his keen eye and lack of favoritism makes me respect and admire Carlton even more. I would hate for him to assign me work and never have an opinion on what I’ve contributed. Instead, his critical feedback means that he’s truly invested in me as a design architect.
I feel myself go warm to the core. Keeping our work and dating life separate hasn’t been as difficult as I thought it would be. But there are times when Carlton tries to provoke me deliberately to see if I’ll crack. I grin broadly as I recall a meeting where he kept trying to make me laugh whenever Melody’s back had been turned.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Carrie’s singsong voice disrupts my musings as usual.
“Just excited for the new designs,” I offer easily, since it’s also true.
Carrie comes up and stands beside me, looking down at the new spread. “We did good,” she says with equal enthusiasm. “So good, in fact, that a few of us are thinking to grab a happy hour cocktail after work, maybe in about fifteen minutes or so. Are you feeling any better?” My best friend looks at me with mild concern.
I shake my head. “Not really. Less queasy than earlier, but I think I’d better skip on the drinks and get to bed early tonight.”
Carrie nods thoughtfully. “It must have been that deli sandwich. I told you that place serves spoiled meat,” she chides gently.
“That’s because you’re a snob about sandwiches,” I laugh good-naturedly.
“No, I’m not!” my buddy protests. “It’s because their refrigerators are always breaking, so I know their stuff is going bad. But you may be right about the snob part anyways,” she chuckles.
“Still, no can do,” I say with a grin. “My stomach won’t let me. Sorry.”
“Okay, well I have a memo to wrap up, but I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Carrie pats my shoulder gently. “Or call if you need me to come over with some saltines later.”
“I’ll be okay, but thanks anyways. Enjoy the happy hour.” I smile weakly at my friend, suddenly aware of just how nauseous and tired I feel.
Once Carrie leaves, I turn back to once again admire my latest work, but my mind is suddenly far from the project. In truth, I’m pretty sure I know exactly why I’m nauseous and it has nothing to do with food poisoning. Trembling, I reach into my purse and pull out the item that could confirm my worst fears: a pregnancy test.
