Broken

“Good luck with the date,” Coleen mumbled, parking her car in front of my apartment building. She lives two blocks away from my place, and she drops me off from time to time. With my Mávros Enterprises salary, I can afford to buy a car, but I enjoy the rush of riding public transportation somehow, so I take the bus to work in the morning and walk home after. It’s a thirty-minute walk, but I love the exercise, and besides, Manhattan is such a pretty place at night.

“Thank you, and thanks for helping me with the paper,” I hugged her after I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid out of her car.

“Call me after,” she teased. “I want to know every detail of your lovemaking.”

Shaking my head, I responded with a mocking grin, “you need a boyfriend.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue like a four-year-old. “Why bother when I can get a one-night stand every night.”

I faked gagging before I waved her off. “Thanks again.”

Watching her car disappear on the curve, I walked into my apartment. My place is decent, with one bedroom and bathroom, open space for the living room, dining, and kitchen, but I like my privacy. Better than sharing a place with a stranger, and besides, old Larson is such a friendly landlord, and I’ve been staying here since I got the job at Mávros enterprises.

I took a quick shower, put light makeup on, and let my hair take its natural wavy body before putting on the dress I bought specifically for tonight. The silky red fabric of the maxi dress hugs my body perfectly for my taste. Not too tight, but not too lousy. It’s a special night because it’s Max and I’s sixth anniversary and I have a feeling that tonight will change our relationship. I wasn’t expecting that he’d propose, but I plan to give myself to him. We’ve never done the deed, and I’m so grateful that Max is willing to wait for me.

The cab arrived at Eleven Madison Park a quarter before eight, and the server guided me to our booked table. I waited anxiously for Max’s arrival, and when he entered the place, my heart practically skipped a beat.

Max and I met in college. He played baseball, smart, popular and all, but he was never the player. It’s one of the things I fell in love with.

His gray Armani suit fitted him perfectly as if it was custom-made for him. Because of his job as a real estate broker, seeing him in such formal clothing is a usual sight, but he never fails to make me drool over him. Blue eyes scanned the restaurant until they locked with my dilated green ones. I had to swallow hard to moisten my dry mouth.

God. Why am I feeling like this?

“Hi,” he kissed my cheeks, pulling me for a hug.

“Hi,” I knew I was blushing like a teenager, and I lowered my head, shying away.

“I’m late, aren’t I?” he said as we placed our orders.

Swaying my head vigorously that I saw the world spinning, I mumbled a gentle ‘no.’ “I was just early.”

I can’t tell him I was too excited about our date.

We had our meal and talked about the entire week’s work details, well Max talked about his whole week, but I love listening to his deep voice. It’s a melody I can’t get enough of that I want to record it and put it on repeat.

After dinner, Max asked me to walk with him to the park. We sat on the empty bench and watched some couples walk hand in hand in front of us. We were never the couples to have PDAs. He said that he respects me and didn’t want people to see me as one of those naive girls around us, but sometimes - at times like this - I just wanted to lean on his shoulders and feel his warmth embrace me.

“How was work?” he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

My heart nearly somersaulted out of my chest. I like Max asking me about my day or anything about me. He never does that. He just waits for me to say something, which never happens because I tend to keep things to myself. Especially stuff about work because I didn’t want him to worry about me.

“Same, my boss is still an ass, but my friends help me mostly when it gets tough,” I giggled lightly, remembering my friend’s reaction this afternoon. They were furious as hell but still got on with business like the professionals they are.

“That’s nice. Still enjoying the work then?” I looked into Max’s light blue eyes. He was gazing at me and didn’t look away when I caught him staring. A blush creeps to my neck, reaching my cheeks, and I’m glad that the night hides the flame that’s beginning to face.

“I do,” I whispered. “Why are you suddenly interested in my work?” I tried to lighten the mood, but Max’s eyes remained the same, intense, and it scared the hell out of me.

“Ren,: Max held my hand, and I jolted at the sudden bolt of electricity that crawled on my skin. “I want to ask you something.”

Oh, God. He will not ask me to marry him, right? I’m twenty-five, and I know it’s still too soon for us to settle down, but what if he does? What should I say?

“Yeah?” my voice was barely a whisper as I bit my lip.

“I don’t know how to ask this from you. We’ve been together for a long time now, and...” he heaved a sigh, which I mimicked. “and I need some time off. I want us to go separate ways for now.”

~~

‘I want us to go separate ways for now.’

Max’s deep voice continued to play on repeat in my head - it’s freaking annoying. It’s been two days since the date, and I need to go to the office. Work is my escape. It’s the only thing I have for now... now that I’m single and broken-hearted.

The makeup I put on my face is not hiding my bloodshot eyes. I’ve been crying nonstop, and no matter what I do, my tears are falling spontaneously. They won’t stop leaking even if I was doing laundry, washing the dishes, cooking, and even while taking a shower.

I hope my friends won’t ask me about my date. My tears will surely begin streaming again if I talk about it.

I took Mr. Mávros’ private elevator to the 40th floor. At moments like this, I am thankful that my boss is such an aloof person who even required his own elevator where no one could use it except for the two of us. He particularly hates mingling with his employees. Not that my boss voiced that out. It was just my observation, and I could use it because he didn’t tolerate tardiness. If I ran late for work, I can’t use the overrated reason that ‘the elevator was full’ - his exact words, not mine.

My black dress is my grieving clothes. This was the same dress I used at Mom’s funeral, and I use it every time I feel like the world is crumbling on my feet.

As I stepped out of the elevator, Angie, the floor secretary, gave me a tight-lipped smile, handing me the list of calls for Mr. Mávros. I thanked her in a very hoarse voice before heading to my office. Scanning the day’s schedule, I quickly called the flower shop when I realized it was the eleventh of the month.

My boss has many girls on his tab. When I mean many, I mean he has a different woman every week. Most of them were models and business socialites, but the constant one was Ms. Sharon Holland. She is the daughter of Mr. Harry Holland of Holland Enterprises, one of the closest business associates of Mr. Mávros.

Ms. Holland is my boss’s girlfriend, that’s what the media knows, and he gave me a specific order to keep it that way. To hide all of his flings and, mind you, that is not an easy task.

Every eleventh of the month, I needed to ensure that a bouquet of red and yellow roses should wait for Ms. Holland in her office. It’s their ‘monthsary,’ but little did Ms. Holland know I was the only one in this building who knew about it. I wonder if Mr. Mávros even knows about her birthday on the 25th.

I have always pitied Ms. Holland because I know that her relationship with my boss is nothing like the one I have, yet here I am, single, and she still has Mr. Mávros.

At 8:10 a.m. sharp, I made my way to make coffee for Mr. Mávros and entered his office, ensuring everything was in place. It needs to be dustproof, even his parker pen should work perfectly, or else it’ll be a hell week for everyone. My boss hates Monday, and this day should be spot-on perfect.

The fate of the world depends on it.

The hands of the silver wall clock in my boss’ office were itching to jump on eight-sixteen, and when it did, the mahogany wooden door swung open.

I waited for him to drop his bag and take off his dark blue suit jacket. For a man who just turned thirty, he is a very sharp and respectable business executive, but behind him are very hardworking people that I hate to admit - are being neglected by him, but it’s not my place to point it out.

His inky locks mussed to perfection. It looks good on him, but he hates his hair looking like that. Worry suddenly had my heart pumping loud. It’s a sign that he must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed again.

As I stood in front of his desk, holding my black notepad, pen, and phone, I stood by for him to finish his morning routine. He took a sip of his coffee, held it out in his right hand, tucked his left hand in his dress pants pocket, and stood in front of the ceiling-high glass wall behind his desk, gazing over the city.

Two minutes have gone by since he took the first sip of his coffee. “What’s my schedule for the day, Ms. Green?”

“Ten o’clock meeting with your father, Sir, and Ms. Garcia invited you for the two o’clock press briefing about the Milan hotel” - his sister - and I saw his shoulder stiffened. He didn’t like the media very much. He wants his private life hidden from the world, and the media follows him everywhere, being one of the most eligible bachelors in this state.

When he said nothing, I continued narrating his entire week’s schedule in my hand. Most of the time, nothing about his plan changes except for his dates. Yup, being a P.A. sometimes sucks when even his dating life joins the schedule I need to perfect.

“The analysis about the Milan project, I read its content. Who wrote that paper on such a brief notice?” he asked with his back still on me. It’s like he was talking to my reflection on the glass wall.

Did he forget that he ordered me to write that report?

“Uhm...” I fiddled with my pen.

Shit!

There must be something wrong with that paper. I might lose my job for the seventh time! “It was me, Sir. I asked for Marie, Jeremy, and Coleen’s help.” I almost whispered into thin air, trying to sound as professional as I could.

He tilted his tumbler again. He was taking his time with his coffee while I was shitting myself out of nervousness. “It was excellent work, Ms. Green.” He turned around and placed his cup on the right edge of his desk. He glanced at me for the first time since he entered his office, and I swear, I saw his lips twitched - his version of a billion-dollar smile.

Damn! He’s so handsome when he smiles. I think I’m about to pass out!