Page 50 of The Boss Upstairs
“Do you still love her?” I ask him, desperately wanting to know.
He stares at his feet for the longest time, and finally says, “I loved her for years.”
“But you don’t anymore?”
He turns to me. “I don’t think so.” He smiles. “All I can think about these days is a certain frisky blue haired beauty.”
I blush. I love his answer. I adore his answer. I want to marry his answer.
But I still have so many questions.
“So did you all have sex in the same room? Like an orgy? What were they like? Did you all get jealous?”
He laughs. “Settle down, little grasshopper.”
“What? I wanna know. This is fascinating.”
“No, we didn’t have sex in the same room. We went on separate dates, usually to dinner and our hotel suites. Details were kept confidential. And no, generally, we weren’t jealous, until things with Mirella and I got out of control. Her husband got violently jealous.”
“Violently jealous?”
“Yes… I ended up in the hospital.”
Jesus.
“Oh my God,” I blurt. “Where are they now?” I ask, hoping they’re very, very far away.
“They’re in Phoenix, and I haven’t talked to them in four years.”
I’m relieved by his answer. So this mysterious woman is no longer part of his life, and hasn’t been for the last four years. Why is he still thinking about her? “You haven’t spoken to her in four years, yet you still think about her,” I say. “That seems crazy.”
He smiles. “It is crazy. Iama little crazy,” he admits. “I told you this. I tend to obsess and I haven’t been able to keep away.”
“Keep away from what?”
“Keep away from her Instagram feed,” he confesses. “It’s where I get to see her every day. Her and her beautiful girls, and occasionally even him. I get to see how happy she is, how her girls are looking more like her every day.”
This breaks my heart. My heart bleeds for him, and for me. But it’s not that much different than what I’m doing. Almost every day, I still look at old photos of Donovan and I. I even look at his old Facebook profile, never taken down.
“Was she beautiful?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Of course she was.
He smiles. “Yes, I certainly thought so.”
I’m curious. “Do you have a photo of her?”
He turns to me. “You want to see?”
Of course I want to see. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away. “Yes.”
