Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
My gut churned. “I don’t know… I think she might actually understand if I explain my logic. She’s a rational person.” I buttered a piece of toast, thinking it through. “The only one who might care if word got out is Rowan. Makes sense, though; you shouldn’t be kissing your employee. If he wants to fire me, then so be it. He’d save me the trouble.”
Why did the idea of being fired over this not sit right with me?
Because it should’ve never happened, you idiot.
“He could also make your life a living hell in this business.”
He wouldn’t…would he? I got down two plates, not sure I felt hungry anymore.
Still, I tried to play it off. “Hey, it takes two to tango, or whatever that saying is.”
He winced. “You better hope he sees it that way.”
We ate our breakfast in virtual silence as I played last night over and over again in my head. I hated that reliving that kiss made my stomach feel all chaotic and upside down. Probably because it didn’t feel real.
And maybe it wasn’t. Likely Rowan hadn’t given it a second thought. Or he was dreaming up new ways to torture me at work.
Afterward, we gathered our dirty clothes in sacks and lugged them downstairs and across the street to the laundromat. Another habit I had to get used to living in this city. Mom was appalled that lots of the older buildings didn’t supply washers and dryers.
“You moved to a fancy city, and you have to travel to do your laundry?” she’d said while Dad grumbled in the background.
When the twins had poked fun, I’d lobbed back, “How would you know? Mom still has to pick up your dirty underwear.”
I smiled to myself as I stuffed the nearest empty washer with my clothes. We had it timed perfectly so we could leave and get a quick coffee a couple of doors down. Otherwise, the owner would complain we were holding up the other customers. I’d learned the hard way my first month in the city when I found my clothes from the dryer on top of the machine.
Going through the motions of our errands got me through the day—the popcorn and movie marathon too—while I pondered whether to text Rowan. And Casey wasn’t any help.
What would I even say? Should I apologize, or should I pretend it was no big deal?
In the end, I decided to leave well enough alone.
9
I obviously misread how awkward it would feel seeing my boss on Monday morning after we fake-kissed at his charity event. At least I told myself it was a fake kiss to keep a complete meltdown at bay. It certainly hadn’t felt like one. But did it matter? It was done with the sole purpose of striking back at his insufferable ex-boyfriend. And getting myself involved was entirely my fault.
As the elevator doors dinged open on the fifth floor, my feet faltered, and I nearly spilled our coffees. But somehow, I held it together instead of running to the restroom to puke in the nearest stall. I reminded myself that, ultimately, none of this mattered since this job was supposed to be temporary anyway. I could always start over and find myself a better job. But I certainly didn’t want to go down like this. If I had to walk away, I wanted it to be with my dignity intact and maybe even the upper hand.
Practicing the words I quit in the mirror for so long had been satisfying—and something to look forward to. But now everything felt turned upside down.
The first person I came in contact with was Anita, and I held my breath, wondering if she would say anything to indicate she’d heard about my shenanigans at the fundraiser. But all she did was smile.
“Good morning,” she said, and I didn’t detect any knowing glance. She would’ve been the first to tell me any gossip, especially if I was the subject.
I breathed out. Likely nobody knew. Nobody saw us—outside of strangers.
Thank fuck. I would never make that mistake again. Casey had spent the weekend convincing me that making Brett jealous would muddy the waters of an already rocky relationship, and he was right.
I sat down at my desk and got busy listening to messages, organizing the schedule, and making a list of notes to discuss with Rowan.
When I felt him come in behind me, I stiffened. But only briefly because normally there was very little talking between us first thing Monday mornings.
“Morning,” I mumbled, then got back to work. He was never thrilled if you bombarded him with questions all at once, not until he was sufficiently caffeinated. I’d learned that the hard way.
“Morning.” He went straight to the coffee I’d placed on his desk, and it felt so routine that I forced myself to relax. It wasn’t like he’d throw it at me or something. Maybe everything would just go back to normal.