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Meanwhile, Bruce clears his throat to speak. “Everything okay, my friend? I haven’t seen you this out of sorts in a long time. Actually, I’ve never seen you like this before, period.” He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
I stare at my friend, knowing that his concern comes from a place of kindness, but also pissed that he’s butting into my Ramona-related saga once again.
“Look,” I say more harshly than I intend to, “I’ve got some personal shit going on. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I should have known these were exactly the wrong words to say because of course, the asshole gets curious. Instead of taking my statement as his cue to butt out, the man settles more fully into his chair, staring at me with a thoughtful expression.
“It’s about that girl, isn’t it?” he asks bluntly.
I blink a few times, surprised that Bruce has guessed the source of my torment so easily.
“How did you…?” I shake my head and sigh deeply. “Something’s going on,” I admit. “Things were going great, and now, what the fuck?” I shake my head with misery. “Now, she’s dead-set against talking to me.”
Bruce nods as he considers this information. “Did something happen between you two? Did you have a fight or something like that?”
I shake my head. “No, nothing that I can really pinpoint. In fact,” I gesture to the thick folder sitting on my desk, “this was going to be her Christmas present.”
Bruce chuckles. “A stack of paperwork? No wonder she’s pissed.”
I scowl again, not in the mood to joke about the situation with Ramona. “No, a villa in Greece.”
Now it’s Bruce’s turn to look surprised. “Holy crap, that’s quite the gift, even from someone as wealthy as you.”
“Well, it’s a pointless gesture because for the last two weeks, she’s refused to see or even talk to me.”
The other man cocks his head to the side, a concerned look crossing over his face. “No contact at all? Shit, maybe you should file a missing persons or something.”
Caving, I grab my phone off the desk and click on my most recent conversation with Ramona. I hand the device to Bruce. “No, you fuckwad, she’s not missing. See for yourself.”
Bruce frowns as he reads through the short exchange, his forehead creasing with confusion.
“So about two weeks ago, you reminded her that you wanted to go out over the weekend,” Bruce says as he tries to piece together the same puzzle I’ve been struggling with over the past several days.
“Right,” I answer absently, feeling irritated by Ramona’s behavior.
“And she responded that she was busy,” Bruce continues to read. “No further explanation.”
I merely nod.
“And then when you press her to meet up on a different day instead, she tells you she’s busy again.”
I grimace in response, nodding.
“You send a few more check-in messages, but she doesn’t answer. And that’s it?” Bruce asks, handing me back my phone.
“Yeah, aside from me sending her a couple of emails, too. I called a few times too, but she never answers. She’s a fucking ghost. I only know she’s alive because Concord told me she’s taking PTO.”
Bruce whistles, leaning back.
“Well, the term is called ‘ghosting,’ I believe.”
I stare at him. “What?”
He shrugs.
“You know, she’s gone MIA. Nada. Gone. It sounds like she just wants some space and she’s cut off communication without any explanation.” Bruce leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “How did you mess up?” he asks.
I stare at him, enraged.
“What do you mean? I haven’t done jack shit! I just bought a villa in Greece for her, for crying out loud.”
And just like that, it hits me. I groan loudly.
“What?” Bruce asks, inferring that I’ve had some sort of revelation.
“Her boss,” I groan again and rub my hands across my face.
“The girl’s boss?” He looks at me sideways, trying to make sense of the strange statement.
I nod urgently as I finally begin to connect the dots. “I had an after-hours meeting with her boss a few days before our last message exchange.” I groan, realizing what must have happened. “Dammit, Melody is a snake, but I didn’t think too much of meeting up with her. But she must have said something about it to Ramona, who misconstrued it in some way.” I shake my head, filling like a jerk. “Shit, Bruce. The woman kept hitting on me, and I guess when I finally turned her down for good, she must have decided to take it out on Ramona.”
I look up to see my friend grinning like an idiot.
“So?” he asks.
“What?” I ask him angrily, unsure what he finds amusing about my predicament.
“You finally told me her name,” he says, his bright white smile getting wider.
I shake my head at my friend, unable to stay mad at him. “Yes, her name is Ramona and damn it all Bruce, I think I love her.”
