“Nov. 2. A month from now,” Avery answered deadpan.
I didn’t say anything, just kind of sat there and stared blankly at her, before Otani, not reading the dynamic of the situation at all, offered a toast to “the next XYZ superstar.”
We all three touched glasses, and Avery joined right back into the festive mood that Otani was in. The party was over for me, however, and I don’t think I said 50 more words the rest of the night.
Avery was still on her high when we got in, and between her news and the champagne she was ready for some action. I, on the other hand, was nowhere near ready for action, and, in fact, I seriously needed to talk things out. Avery tried her very best to get me ready to go, but what’s the expression about beating a dead horse?
“So this is how it ends, then,” she finally said. “Can’t we at least talk about this first?”
“That’s exactly what we should have done, and could have done,” I responded. “But you made the decision first. Now we’d be talking about it second … and there doesn’t seem to be any reason to do that.”
“You could always come with me to San Diego. A guy with your skill and intelligence could find a job easy and be making big money in no time … West Coast dollars big money as a matter of fact.”
“Believe me, I thought about this all evening while you two were yucking it up. But it always came down to you making the decision for you, and not us making the decision for us. I’m second in command at a solid company, and someday I’ll be numero uno. I’ve been with this company for more than 25 years, and maybe, for me, this is my dream job. But you never gave that a consideration. Apparently I overestimated your feelings for me.”
I tapped the ring box at the bottom of my right-hand pocket. I didn’t reach in and pull it out. Avery had no idea I had been carrying around her engagement ring with me for a week. The gesture wasn’t for her anyway. It was for me.
It was quiet in the apartment for the next couple of days as neither of us did much communicating. Finally, on the third night, after dinner, Avery came over to my La-Z-Boy and crawled in on top of me. She put her mouth up to my right ear and whispered, “I’m sorry. I was incredibly selfish. Can’t we do some negotiating on this?”
“No,” I responded simply. “You need to do this — be Otani’s next XYZ Superstar. Set the world on fire. Take no prisoners. I know it. You know it. Now get off Little Mickey so he can grow and we can finish this in the bedroom.”
We made love and fucked like it was our last time for the next several weeks, until it truly was our last time.
Avery took several trips out to the Left Coast and picked out an apartment and had her stuff and car shipped out there prior to leaving. On our actual last night together, I gave her my best five-star performance. She squirted several times during the course of the evening and night and had about a couple dozen orgasms. I’ve done more, but not with that kind of intensity. Despite the fact that my heart was breaking, I wanted her to know that she was loved.