Penyesalan Seorang Suami

"Adam, I know you're in there! I won't leave until you come out and take responsibility for your actions!" She yelled, shaking her fists angrily.

"My husband isn't home. Now, please leave before I call the cops!"

"That's what you'd like, huh?" She scoffed with contempt. "I'm not leaving till Adam knows what he did to me."

"What he DID to you?" I ask, perplexed.

"He didn't tell you about that night, did he?" She smirked wickedly. "Well, tough luck, sweetheart. I'm pregnant and he's the father."

She's . . . Pregnant?

But I'm pregnant for him, too. . . 

TWO MONTHS AGO 

I walk into the office with the most composed face I could pull and ignore everyone's curious looks. I frantically pull out the computer records and start inputting data.

I'm never taking the bus again. 

Half an hour later, when I see that I'm barely on the seventh page of the document, I let out an exasperated sigh.

I have so much work to do! How will I ever make it on time?

Focus Payton, you can do this. You like this job, and you can't afford to lose it. 

Just then, my phone pings. It must be Thea . . . 

T- Hey, girl!

T- Just wanted to text you and congratulate you!

P- Hi, Thea . . .

P- Congratulate me on what?

T- You've been working for Adam Owens for a month now, and you still haven't gotten fired!

P- Jeez, thanks for believing in me, T

T- That's not what I meant and you know it.

T- You're the first assistant to make it this far in a year 

P- Yeah, he replaces staff just as regularly as he brushes his teeth.

P- Trust me, I've seen it with my own eyes. Don't need a reminder.

T- I guess you can do that when you're a famous music producer and the number one handsome bachelor.

T- According to Gossip Today, at least!

P- You sound like a walking ad . . .

P- But I know what you mean

P- Working for Adam isn't exactly easy

P- He's very hard to please.

T- I bet.

P- Thea! You're always so crude!

P- Anyway I have to go. Adam wants me in his office.

T- Oulala! Remember to use protection

Great, so much for that.

I walk into Adams office and find him looking at some papers. "You wanted to see me, sir," I squeaked, my cracking voice betraying my fright.

He glances up and pierces me with his eyes. "Yes, have a seat."

Adam leaned back on his chair and crossed him arms. His lips are in a thin, straight line, and his eyes narrowed on me.

Oh no! This is it. I'm about to be fired! 

With shaky legs, I take a seat in front of him.

I think I heard somewhere that flattery gets you everywhere. Time to test that theory.

"You look lovely today, Mr. Owen. I really love your tie. And your skin is fantastic, what kind if product do you use?" I questioned with a bright wide smile on my face.

"Soap," he grunted.

"Oh . . . any special kind of soap?" I laughed halfheartedly.

"Payton, what is this about?" He frowned.

"I'm afraid you're going to fire me," I lamented. "I'm really good at my job, and if you just give me a chance--"

"Payton, please stop talking." He said, raising a hand to shush me. There's a brief pause before he continues. "I'm not going to fire you."

"You're not?" I ask appalled.

"No. So calm down and breath. You remember how to do that, don't you?" He instructed.

I close my eyes and release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I open my eyes a moment later, and I notice that he's much closer to me now.

He's leaning over his desk, watching me carefully. Then he rakes a hand through his hair and sighs, and I find myself wanting to do the same.

Get a hold of yourself, woman. I shouldn't be making googly eyes at my boss! 

I take another deep breath and blink rapidly to shake off the feeling I just had. "So . . . Why did you call me in here?" I questioned now that I was calm.

"I'm travelling to Las Vegas tomorrow to get an exclusive contract with a new Pop star singer, ' Ginger Stale'." He explained.

"Oh, that sounds fun. I'll make sure to handle everything you need."

"I'm sure you will," he stated and started flipping pages of a book on his table. "We're flying out tomorrow, could you book the tickets?" He asked.

"I'm sorry . . . Did you say "we"?" I fumbled.

He raised his eyes from his work and glanced at me. "Is there a problem?"

"Only two tickets? Is anyone else joining us?"

"Nobody that I'm paying for," he answered nonchalantly.

What a vague answer.

But still, this is good news. Here I thought I was getting fired, and instead, I'm going to Vegas!!

"Payton?" He called, bringing me out of my mind.

"Yes?"

"You may leave now," he dismissed.

"Oh, yes. Of course. I'll go and book the tickets for us," I said standing up.

"First class."

"Of course," I nodded. I went straight to my office and git on it immediately.

THE NEXT DAY

When we got to the hotel, I immediately went to deal with our reservation and pick up our keys.

I find Adam in the lobby, scrutinizing the painting of a naked woman. As soon as I'm next to him, his eyes are back on me.

"Oh my God. It's so beautiful in here," I lamented, my voice showing awe. Adam didn't seem very impressed though.

"There's dust on that painting," he remarked.

"Is there?" I squint my eyes at the painting, "I don't see anything."

"And do you hear the music?" He scoffed. "They could do so much better than playing this elevator nonsense in a loop."

"To be honest, I don't mind," I shrugged. "This is all above my pay grade. Even that plane was amazing, and I took economy class."

"Speaking of that . . . When I said first class, I meant for you too."

"Oh, really?" Warmth spread across my cheeks.

He wanted me there with him? 

He continued. "The flight attendant kept asking me what kind of coffee I like, and I completely forgot. It's been years since I had to remember such frivolous details as that."

The colour drained from my cheeks. Of course he didn't want me there for my company. 

"I'm so sorry, sir!" I apologized, "I should have --"

"Payton," he cut me off, "if you want to make it in this field, you have to stick to your guts. Never, EVER, apologize." He instructed and I quickly nodded.

"I have something to discuss with you. We need to find our rooms."