“So what are you thinking?”
I look at the ceiling of my living room, my eyes focusing on the yellow stain from an old water leak from the apartment above mine. “I think I need to quit my job. Before this gets any more complicated than it already is.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe try to make it as an artist. Maybe find another corporate job where I won’t be tempted to fall in love with my boss.” I laugh, but it comes out hollow. With my track record, jobs like mine are hard to come by.
Alli is quiet for a long moment, stroking Berry’s fur. “Or,” she says finally, “maybe you tell him how you feel and see what happens.”
The suggestion makes my stomach clench with equal parts terror and hope. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if this is just easy sex for him? I know he’s enjoying it, and the stuff he said in New York… I don’t know, I’m so confused.”
“Meatball, I saw how he looked at you in your kitchen. That wasn’t convenient. That was a man who’s just as gone as you are.”
I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her. But the thought of putting my heart on the line, of risking everything for a maybe…
“I’ll think about it,” I say finally.
“Good. Now tell me everything about New York. And I mean everything. Starting with why you’re walking like you spent five days getting thoroughly?—”
“Only if you tell me all aboutDoctorJosh.”
Her laughter fills the apartment, and for a moment, everything feels normal again. But as I start telling her about the conference, about the publishers and the possibilities, the question remains: what am I going to do about being in love with my boss?
24
PIERCE
The office airfeels different after New York. Or maybe it’s the four walls of my office that feel suffocating after the freedom I’ve experienced over the last week.
Through the glass, I watch Thatcher organize papers at his desk. He’s back to being his old chaotic self, but when he stops to adjust the collar on his shirt, I catch a glimpse of a mark my mouth left there.
A chime from my computer draws my attention fully to the screen, the sender’s name making my shoulders tense automatically. James. The subject line—Merger Meeting—is enough to put my guard up. My jaw clenches as I open the message, already anticipating its contents.
My phone buzzes with a text from Thatcher.
Thatcher:
Missing our hotel breakfast. Though I have to admit, watching you in full corporate mode is its own kind of delicious
The message makes heat pool in my stomach, despite myattempts at professional distance, at least in the office. Before I can respond, another text arrives.
Thatcher:
Seriously, though, you okay? You seem tense this morning.
His concern makes my chest ache as I type a careful reply.
Pierce:
Just readjusting to office life. Though I miss room service too.
The response comes immediately.
Thatcher:
Pretty sure what I’m missing isn’t on any room service menu
My phone rings, cutting through the silence. Lior’s name appears on the screen, and I answer immediately.
