“And my coverage in the media was hindering that. So, I took action. I not only lied to myself, but I lied to you as well. My engagement to Clarissa, while real, was not based on love. Not initially. We were engaged to give you all something else to talk about other than my scandals. And I am so sorry for misleading you. It was absolutely the wrong thing to do. And I see that now. A relationship has to be based on trust. And I understand if your relationship with me has been irrevocably damaged.”
“I want you to know I am sorry. But that while we may have started out as entering into the engagement on misleading terms, I can tell you that now, I want nothing more than to marry her. For all the right reasons. But even more so, I want to get to know her, and for her to get to know me, from the start. To see me for all that I am, without all the lies. And for me to see her without being clouded by the past.”
I swallow. I wish I knew if she was out there watching. “So, Clarissa, if you’re watching, I would like to ask you a question. Would you please go on a date with me? Because even though I will always love you, I think you need to learn how to love me again.”
I stop. Done with the words. I wish I could just know if she is watching.
Something occurs to me.
“I… have somewhere to be,” I say and jump down from the podium as someone yells out,
“Matthias, where are you going?”
I feel a smile spread across my face, and I yell back, “I’m going to ask a girl out on a date!”
Chaos ensues and without turning around, I know the entire gaggle of reporters is following me out of the building and out onto Wall Street.
“Mr. Baxter,” Paula pants, catching up with me. “Where are we going?”
“You didn’t hear me?”
“You’re going to Malt?” she asks, trying to keep up with me.
“I am. Wanna come with?” I walk, no, I run. I expect the group of reporters to fall away, but they don’t, yelling questions out to me on our impromptu jog around Manhattan. “Come on, guys. Keep up.
You don’t want Anna from Heard It Here to have an exclusive, do you?”
There’s something freeing about running up Hudson Street in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. I wave to a group of tourists watching me running to the Village with ten reporters and their cameramen chasing behind me. All in an Armani suit.
“Run!” one of them shouts.
“I’m trying!” I shout back, with a laugh, my body filling with excitement.
Half a mile from the club, I realize she might not be there. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number.
For the first time in weeks, she answers. “Hello?”
The sound of her voice energizes me, and my legs kick faster under me. “Rissie, where are you?” “I’m at the club,” she says. Not friendly, but not angry.
“Great. Stay right there.”
There’s a pause, and then she says, “Why are you out of breath?”
“I’m running. I feel like I’ve been running for a long time. Too long.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t hang up either. I cross the road, almost getting run over by a passing cab. The car horn echoes down the street and into the phone.
“Was that a car horn?”
“Yes, Rissie, it was.” I feel like laughing out loud. This is so ridiculous. In the reflection of the nearby shop, I see the crowd running behind me. But instead of growing smaller, more people have joined. They must have caught onto something happening and didn’t want to be left out. The more the merrier.
“Clarissa, do you remember the first day we ran into each other at Leanne’s place?” “Yes.” She sounds hesitant, she doesn’t know where I’m going with this. I don’t blame her.
“Remember when I told you that I wasn’t a simp?” I ask, through breaths.
She pauses. I don’t know if she doesn’t remember or if she doesn’t want to. “Yes.” “I was wrong.”
“Matthias. I don’t have time for this.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up,” I shout, panicked. It feels like if she hangs up now, I’ll never have another chance. “Listen to me. I was wrong. I’ve been so wrong about so many things. I was wrong when I didn’t see that you were right under my nose for twenty years. I was wrong when I didn’t steal you from Damien. I was wrong when I let you walk out of my office that day. I was wrong so many times. Every day that we’ve been apart, I was wrong. I should’ve been there every day, and every night.
Because, darling, if there’s a thing I am… it’s a simp. For you, Clarissa.”
She sighs. “Matthias… I never wanted that from you. I just wanted you to give me a chance.” We’re only a hundred yard away. Once we turn the corner, the club will be in sight.
“I know. And you wanted me to fight for you. Darling, I’m fighting. I’m fighting for you right now.”
I’m almost at the corner, in my life I’ve never been scared to do anything. But I’m scared to do this. And that tells me just how much I want it. How much I want her.
Then, as if she’s connected to my brain, as well as my heart, her voice is small as she says, “I’m scared.”
I stop running. Just for a moment. Because once again, she’s proven she’s the woman for me. “I am too, Rissie. I am, too. So, we’ll start slow. But I want to start again.”
Silence. Then, “When?”
I turn the corner, expecting to see the painted window of the club.
But I don’t.
All I see is her. Standing there. Waiting for me.
I sprint, dropping the phone on the ground, getting rid of anything that’s going to slow me down.
The crowd catches up, a chorus of panting behind me.
I stop in front of her.
Phone still in her hand.
“Ask me the question,” I pant.
“What question?”