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“I have no doubt that you will run Arabesque admirably, regardless of who you are with.”
“But you were concerned before…”
He nods. “I was. That you were too young to truly know what you wanted. That you were only taking on Arabesque because it was convenient. Losing your heart for someone else’s dream. My biggest concern was that you were doing something for the wrong reason. But that is not the case.”
“It’s not?”
“Non. Losing your heart to someone is different from losing it for someone.”
“What if they don’t love you back?”
“I do not think you have to worry about that.”
“Hypothetically.”
Meric’s smile is indulgent. “If she did not love you back, I would say that you have not lost your heart to someone. Rather, they have taken your passion for their goals. Love must be returned to truly be love. Whatever argument is between you and Mia right now will be set right again,” he finishes.
“I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I. I know so.” He taps his temple and then his heart. “Now, I am leaving. Going home to fight with cardboard and tape. You should go home too.”
My home is with Mia.
“I’m almost done here,” I say. “But have a good night.”
“Good night, mon ami,” he says, standing. “I was right about you. All those years ago.”
“You were? About what?”
“You are the only person I could ever leave Arabesque with.”
“Really?”
He nods and reaches out his hand. “Oui. Sans question.”
My hand grips his, and one of the weights hanging around my neck finally drops.
“Good night, Meric.”
“Bonsoir.”
Once Meric leaves, I’m left with my thoughts for company. I’m not interested in going back to my apartment, so I sit in front of my computer, reviewing projections and schedules for next quarter.
A look at my watch tells me that Mia is already in Ireland. With Fucker. My hands clench at my sides, and I take a deep breath to release the tension coiled at the thought of her giving him another chance.
She deserves so much more.
And while I tried to show her that, I don’t think I succeeded in anything other than pushing her back toward him. She should have told me that he was her co-star from the beginning. But would I be sitting here arguing with myself if I had fought to keep her as hard as I fought to push her away?
“Fuck,” I groan, running a hand through my hair and leaning back from my desk.
She’s in Ireland. With him. For three months.
And I’d rather it be her choice than mine.
There’s noise in the hallway, and I sit up. Probably just someone from the cleaning crew.
I refocus on my computer. One more report, and then I’ll call it a night. I’ll figure out what to do about Mia tomorrow.
