There was no response, and I just couldn’t let it end that way. So I sent her another text.
JOSH: Ella, please tell me what happened between the photocopy room and your text giving me the brush off. What did I do – or didn’t do – to make you change your mind? I thought we were on the same page when we were alone. What happened?
Another long pause occurred, but then I saw the little dots jumping and I knew she was finally responding.
ELLA: Marcella Binetti dropped by for a quick visit today. You never told me about your father's will and that you had hired a headhunter to find you a suitable wife.
I grimaced when I saw the reference to the will and Marcella. She must have told Ella about working for me to find a wife. But obviously, she didn't tell Ella everything.
JOSH: Did she tell you that it was her idea, not mine? Did she tell you that I couldn't go through with it, primarily because I met you and I knew I couldn't even consider dating anyone else? Did she tell you that I told her to stop looking, and that I would find someone who I actually loved myself? That hiring her was too mercenary? I bet she didn't.
There was no response for a few moments. I waited, wondering if that would be enough to convince her.
JOSH: If you don't believe me, ask her yourself. Go ahead. I give you permission to talk to her and tell her about our relationship. Ask her to give you the whole story. Please, before you decide anything, talk to her and get the whole story. That's all I ask.
I waited but she didn't reply, and I realized that I had to leave it up to her now. She would call Marcella or she wouldn't and she would decide to keep seeing me or she wouldn't.
Part of me wanted to call Marcella up and give her hell for talking about our business relationship, but that would do no good. She and Sharon were friends from a long way back and I should have known that somehow, news of my looking for a wife using a headhunter would slip out. It would be just too juicy a piece of gossip not to.
I thought Marcella was more professional than that, but she and Sharon were best friends. I should have been more professional myself and not even considered it.
Sleep was a long time coming and I had to admit defeat finally and take my cock into my own hand, engaging in a bout of solitary masturbation, imagining Ella being with me instead, riding me instead of resorting to my hand. The small burst of endorphins from my orgasm did little or nothing to soothe the ache I felt at the prospect of losing Ella before I really even had her.
The next morning, I went through my usual routine, my mind occupied with how I could convince Ella to give me another chance. I was so focused on the problem that I almost ran into a cement pylon left in the center of the bike lane, but managed to avoid it at the last moment.
"Hey!" A worker dressed in an orange vest and hardhat called out when I nearly struck him. "Watch where the hell you're going, bud!"
"Sorry!" I called out and kept going, slowing down a bit and trying to focus on the ride instead of my situation.
Usually, I'd let a relationship drop without protest if it had just started and wasn't progressing, but there was something about Ella I couldn't resist. I knew she was substantial. Someone I could happily spend time with, doing nothing, and enjoying every minute of it, whether we were fucking or just talking quietly afterwards, cooking a meal, or talking shop. I knew I'd kick myself if I let her slip away, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be a stalker who couldn't take no.
When I arrived at the office for the day, after showering and dressing and grabbing a bagel and coffee at the coffee shop across the street, I called David.
"Hey," he said, his voice chipper.
"Hey," I replied, smiling when I imagined him sitting by his pool in sunny LA.
"What's up?" he asked.
I took in a breath. "So, there's this woman."
"Tell me about her," he replied, not missing a beat.
"She's perfect."
"No, she's not. She's a human, Josh."
"She just told me to fuck off, in so many words."
"What did you do to deserve that?"
"She found out that I hired a headhunter to find a wife so I could get the first installment of the trust fund."
"You did what?" he said, his voice incredulous. "You actually hired a headhunter to find you a wife? That doesn't sound like you. You're a hopeless romantic."
"I didn't really hire her. She was meeting with me about staffing for the paper and I complained about the will. It was her suggestion, not my idea. I didn’t go through with it, because I met this woman and I knew I couldn't meet anyone else until I knew where the relationship was going."
"So?"