Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
His expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes hardens. “Okay.”
That’s all he says.
I look back at the ultrasound pictures on the dresser. Still facedown, tucked halfway under my purse. I should pick them up and put them somewhere safe, but I can’t force myself to touch them.
“I hate this,” I say.
Sebastian doesn’t ask what I mean. Again, I get the sense he knows me better than he’ll say out loud.
“I know.”
My eyes burn, and that pisses me off even more. I don’t want to cry in front of him or dwell on the terrible thing that happened outside that office. Most of all I don’t want to bring up past trauma.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him.
“Then we won’t.”
He comes into the room slowly. When he reaches me, he doesn’t pull me against him or tell me everything is going to be fine. He just holds out his hand. I look at it for a second before I take it. For the first time since the parking lot, I stop pacing.
The next morning, I sit at Sebastian’s dining table with my laptop open, ginger tea going cold beside me, and tell my team over a video call that I’m stepping back for a few weeks.
Tessa starts to tear up, which I hate. If she cries, I’m going to cry, and I don’t think I have any tears left.
“It’s temporary,” I tell her through the screen. “A few weeks, tops. You and Lila can handle the Miller walkthrough on Thursday. I already sent over the vendor notes.”
Tessa nods too quickly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Of course. We’ve got it.”
“I know you do,” I tell her. “When I get back from my leave, I’m promoting you. You deserve it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says, voice thin. “I just want you to be okay. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”
I take a deep breath and try desperately not to let the tears start. This is so stupid. These stupid pregnancy hormones make me cry at the worst possible moments.
“I’m not disappearing,” I tell her. “I’m just stepping back from in-person meetings for a few weeks. Veronica has the updated catering notes, and I’ll sit in on the Turner tasting by video.”
Lila nods from her little square on the screen. She looks concerned, but she’s always been better at compartmentalizing than Tessa, who lets out a shaky laugh and wipes under her eye again.
“We can do this.”
“I know you can.” I take a breath and force myself to look directly into the camera. “I’m serious about the promotion, Tessa. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you,” she says. “That means a lot.”
“I’m still going to be annoying by email so you won’t really miss me all that much.”
That gets a better laugh out of both of them.
After the call ends, I don’t move for a while. My calendar is still open on the screen. So many blocks have been shifted to Tessa and Lila that it’s basically blank. I trust them. That isn’t the problem. The problem is that I built this business so I’d never have to feel helpless again, and Adrian has still managed to steal it from me.
Sebastian comes into the dining room with a plate in one hand. He sets it beside my laptop. “You need to eat.”
I glance at the toast and fruit without much interest.
“You haven’t had breakfast,” he says.
“I’ve been on calls.”
“Which is how I know you need this.” He pushes the plate closer.
I pick up a piece of toast and take a bite, mostly so I don’t have to talk to him.
He stays where he is for another second, then says, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For all of it.”
I rub my thumb over the edge of a fabric square and try to figure out what I’m feeling. Annoyed, obviously. Touched, too, which is the surprising part.
“I’ll be in my office,” he says. “If you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
He nods once and leaves.
For the next two days, I don’t make anything easy for him. He takes most of it in stride, which only makes it worse. He doesn’t crowd me. He doesn’t argue when I’m clearly looking to start a fight. It makes me feel like a rabid animal in a cage. No outlet for my frustration.
On the third afternoon, I’m in the library with my laptop open and fabric samples spread across the coffee table.
“No, Melanie,” I say into the phone. “I understand they look similar in warehouse lighting. Unfortunately, the event will not be held in your warehouse. It will be held in a ballroom with warm uplighting and a bride who can spot the wrong undertone from across a parking lot.”
Sebastian appears in the doorway.
I lift one finger without looking at him.
“Yes,” I continue. “Please send the corrected swatch today. No, not tomorrow. Today.”