“Bye, Eli.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. I shut the door between us and locked it. I knew he would be able to hear me through the door, so I slapped a hand over my mouth as a sob tried to escape and all but ran toward my bedroom. I shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it, letting my butt slide down until it was on the floor against my heels.
Only then did I let the tears come.
Chapter Twelve
Six Weeks Later
“You’ve lost too much weight.”
I shrieked and flailed as I tried to stay on the step stool I was perched on. I swear, I’d never been this clumsy before. Clumsiness had become a constant companion since my first night with Elijah. Strong hands locked on my hips, keeping me from falling. They kept their grip as I climbed down the two steps to the floor and whirled to face my boss.
“You scared the shit out of me, D!” I yelled, leaning over to rest my hands on my knees.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me when I called your name three times in a row,” he replied in a dry drawl.
I straightened and scowled at him, tugging my loose pants higher on my waist. Even with the slender black belt around my waist, they didn’t want to stay put.
Heartbreak—the best weight loss tool a girl could find.
“So, when I didn’t answer, you decided to sneak up on me anyway?”
The look he shot me was even drier than his words. “What are you doing?”
“Organizing,” I answered, gesturing to the shelves in the supply closet behind me.
“Why?”
“Because it needed it.”
His look clearly said he thought I needed it more than the closet did.
“Can you take a break?” he asked. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
I glanced at the closet. Honestly, I’d finished organizing it ten minutes ago. I’d just been…fiddling. I needed to do something to keep my hands and mind busy.
God, I was pathetic. Why was I so upset over a man I dated for a month? Why couldn’t I move on?
“I’m done,” I finally answered. “I just need to wash my hands.”
“Meet me in the office. I’ll make you a cappuccino.”
“Sounds good.”
When I went into the restroom to wash my hands, I avoided my reflection in the mirror. I knew what I would see if I looked. My skin was pale, and my concealer wasn’t quite up to the task of hiding the dark circles beneath my eyes. I still did my hair and make-up every day for work, and I always put together an outfit the night before, even if I didn’t feel like it. I was going to fake it until I made it. Just because I felt like shit didn’t mean I needed to look like it, too.
The scent of coffee and sugar greeted me when I stepped through the doorway to Davide’s office. There were two cappuccinos on his desk, and a light blue bakery box was open next to them. Instead of sitting in his desk chair, he was in one of the two club chairs he set up for visitors.
“Come have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the other chair.
I moved to sit next to him. It wasn’t uncommon for Davide to bring treats to work or make me a mid-afternoon cappuccino, but we never had them in his office. We usually sat on the couch in the front of the gallery, or I would sit at the reception desk, and he would lean a hip against it.
He picked up the small white plate sitting next to wide white cup full of frothed milk and coffee and began putting tiny baked goods on it. There were miniature cookies, small brownie squares, and even a pint-sized cannoli. Without asking if I wanted any, he handed the plate to me.
As soon as I started to set it to the side, he commanded, “You will eat those.”
My first instinct was to argue, but the scent of butter, sugar, and chocolate hit my nose and my stomach growled. “Okay, but I’m not holding it the entire time I’m sitting here,” I said, sliding the plate onto the desk next to what I assumed was my coffee.
