"You can't do what exactly anymore?" I ask. I'm tired of the riddles. I just want to cut to the fucking chase.
"This. All of it. I can't work with you," she says, looking down at her plate. She seems to be trying extra hard to avoid my gaze—as if she's gonna turn to fucking stone if she looks into my eyes or something.
But her words hit home. They fucking sting, I'll admit it.
I imagine this is what a quarterback feels like during a football game when a defensive end blindsides him, and he's left staring at the ball that's been knocked out of his hands and it's pathetically flopping around the turf, a brown smear just out of reach.
I wasn't expecting this from CJ. It definitely catches me off guard.
"Wait, back the fuck up. What do you mean?" I ask.
"I quit, Aidan. It's simple. I'm terminating our agreement," she replies, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"You can't be fucking serious," I say.
I'm having a hard time believing the words tumbling out of her mouth. Her lips are moving but they aren't making sense. CJ's been a stellar fucking PA over the years, and there's no way I'm letting her walk away that easily. What happened to the CJ who just recently was pushing me to write more books?
"I'm serious as a heart attack," she says flatly. She can read the shock on my face and continues, "What? Do you expect me to sit back and feel good about what you did to Abby? That was shitty, Aidan. An all time low—even for you."
For a moment, I stare at her, speechless. I try searching her face for clues, but when I don't find any, I give up and sit up straight in my chair.
“I knew this was going to end in a disaster, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop,” CJ says and I close my eyes as I listen to her. “Everyone is so happy with the new and improved Aidan Stone. Only I know the real man.”
"Abby?" I ask, still fixated on her last sentence.
"Yeah, you remember her, don't you?" she asks sarcastically. "The woman you decided to write a book with, and then promptly screw over?"
All I can do is stare at her as she speaks.
"Oh, come on Aidan! I'm tired of the games. Don't play dumb. Cheryl told me everything."
When I still don't respond, CJ grows increasingly frustrated.
"I knew you were going to screw this up," she continues. "You always do—mixing work and pleasure. But I guess there was this little part … a little bit of hope in me that thought this time was going to be different, especially with the pregnancy. That maybe you actually gave a shit about Abby … that maybe you … dare I say it … even loved her. But I guess old habits die hard, right? I shouldn't have expected this time to be any different."
"Wait? Did you just fucking say pregnancy?" I ask. My head is swirling and everything in my peripheral vision is growing blurry. It's like my head is being placed in a fishbowl. My heart is kicking in my chest. I'm trying to just breath. To try and gather my thoughts. To try and slow my brain down a bit.
Anything to stay calm.
"She was planning on telling you, but you stood her up, asshole. She was pretty beat up over it too … and then seeing your Facebook post about your new book with Bad Boy Publishing, "Huge Cock" … well, that just put her really over the edge. And I don't blame her, with you practically rubbing it in her face and all. What do you expect?"
She removes the napkin from her lap and places it in a crumpled heap on top of the table. Then she pushes her chair back, and the scratch of the chair's legs against the tile—that high-pitched sound that no one likes—makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She begins to leave.
“You know, you might have a 12 inch dick, Aidan, but as a person, you’re not even an inch tall, fucker,” she tells me.
“You gonna let me say something?” I say to CJ. “I can fucking explain, babe.”
"Look, this has been fun and all, but like I said, I'm done. It's time for me to move on. It's best for you to move on too. I'm sure you can find another PA who could care less about who you fuck and what you do with your personal life. But that's not me."
I watch as she begins to leave, and just as she turns her back I say, "Wait. I fucking love her too, CJ!"
She stops and slowly turns around, and for the first time holds my gaze.
"I have a plan," I continue.
CJ places her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes, as if this is some sort of prank. "Sure you do. You always seem to have a plan, but not this time. You can't fix this."
I press her further. "I need you to trust me, CJ. And I know that may be hard for you because I haven't always made the best choices in the past—"