Page 21 of Hating the Boss

I laughed softly, thinking about my ex. Matt had come into my life like a lightning storm, fast and powerful, completely enamoring me with the things he said and the way he made me feel like I was the only one in the room.

I fell for him.

Hard.

He was older than me and one of those men who only grew more handsome as the years went on. We had met on a dating app, something I swore I would never do, but my curiosity got the best of me. I swiped on a few men, but only felt excitement for Matt when I saw his photo. We were matched and went on our first date three days later, where I became wrapped around his finger.

My friends accused him of love-bombing me, but I refused to see it.

I refused to see a lot of things.

When he proposed, I said yes immediately. It had been a whirlwind of a romance. My sister cautioned against it, saying we had only known each other for a short amount of time. But wasn’t her unfair deal in life a reminder that life is too short? That was what I told myself, anyway.

While I was busy planning the wedding, he became more and more distant, showing less and less interest in the flowers I wanted to line the aisle or the must-have menu options. I tried to chalk it up to him just being busy at work, which was his go-to excuse. I thought he was working so much so we could build our life together, and that was why he was so tired. That was why there was a disconnect.

The real reason was because he had a fiancée. A fiancée who wasn’t me. A whole other life that didn’t include me.

Now he was married to her, living in Syracuse with two kids. Living the life I thought we were going to have, while I worked at a restaurant to make ends meet and trying to take care of my sister. My sister has never felt like a burden to me, but I had hoped I could have someone to lean on while I took her to endless doctor appointments and cried myself to sleep at night.

Instead, I was alone and broke.

Well, until now.

That was all going to change when I started my new job.

Monday morning, I showed up to the office, feeling my best in my new dress. It wasn’t the sapphire one. I was waiting to bring that one out. This was the perfect shade of pink, light enough to bring out the very slight tan I had accumulated while lying out on the rooftop yesterday. The neckline scooped low, and while it had given me a boost of confidence when I left my apartment, now I felt a little ridiculous in an office setting.

I took a deep breath before stepping inside Brad’s office, surprised to find it empty. Bigger than my apartment, the room was massive, with modern furnishings. A tan leather couch sat in the center of the room, joined by two matching slingback chairs that surrounded a large stone coffee table. A glass tray housing a bottle of what looked like bourbon and a few ornate tumblers sat on the table.

My black pumps click-clacked against the dark, hardwood floor as I walked toward the acorn-colored modern desk that I assumed was mine. It was smaller than the desk that sat against the large window with a straight view of Central Park. That desk had to be Brad’s. I wondered where he was as I took a seat in the plush leather chair at my desk that was littered with notes.

Duties.

Lots of them.

But they were easy enough, and I felt relieved for the light load of office work, especially considering how much I was making for it.

In the middle of alphabetizing files, the phone on my desk trilled loudly, breaking me from the mind-numbing activity. I picked it up and before I could say anything, I heard Brad’s voice on the other line.

“Bring my suit to the club,” he said gruffly, without greeting.

“C-club?” I stammered.

“Metropolitan Club,” he said annoyed, as if I should have somehow read his mind. As if I knew what that was.

“Which suit?” I asked, scanning the office for any sign of a suit.

“The one that you’re supposed to pick up at the dry cleaners.”

“Right,” I said, shuffling through his notes.

“Be here in thirty minutes.”

I heard the click of the phone.

“What the hell?” I whispered to myself.

Forty-five minutes later, my cab pulled up to a tall, gray brick building with arched windows. I paid the driver before peeling the dry-cleaning bag off the seat next to me. I stepped out of the cab and looked up at the building with the navy awning with a golden M emblem.