Page 72 of Miss Manage

Chapter Forty

CHARLOTTE

One minute we were enjoying tacos in post-coital bliss and making small talk in my kitchen, and the next he was pushing for yet another step toward a full-blown relationship. Why couldn’t he leave things where they were for a beat?

“Gabriel—”

He got up, all taut lines and frustration, and God help me, the sight of him shirtless weakened my resolve. “It’s fine. If you’re not ready, it’s fine.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It was hurt. And that made it worse.

“The interviews are this week,” I tried, my throat tight. “Until we know the decision⁠—”

“And then what?” His eyes searched mine. “What changes? You have feelings for me. I sure as hell have them for you. Why are we pretending we don’t?”

“Because everything changes,” I whispered. “You being in my head before the most important interview of my career is—” I stopped short, realizing it was coming out wrong.

His jaw tightened. “So that’s all this is? I’m in your head, hoping it’ll what? Throw you off your game so I can have the job?”

“That’s not what I meant⁠—”

Gabriel sighed. “But what? I’m asking too much?”

Maybe he was. “It’s going too fast.”

He left, the sound of his footsteps sounding on the stairs. He was back down in minutes, his shirt halfway on.

“I’m just asking for some time before we meet families.”

“I’ve met your family. You’ve met Samantha. Why is this the step freaking you out?”

Because I’d already become attached, and once the job was determined, I wondered how much it would hurt when it all fell apart. “I’m asking for more time.”

“So you’ve said twice now. But for someone decisive about everything else in her life, it’s clear this isn’t anywhere near the top of your list.”

“Gabe—”

He looked up, his eyes dark with frustration and something deeper. “Maybe I’m asking for a kind of trust you’re not capable of. I can’t shake the feeling that in two weeks, when this promotion’s decided, there’ll be yet another excuse.”

By then, the entire dynamic would have changed. Unless of course neither of us got the job.

My silence spoke for me. He turned and walked out.

The click of the front door closing behind him echoed like a final word I never said.

Fuck.

“Why are you riding your bike like your ass gave up on life?” Michelle called out the next night, effortlessly cutting through the blaring soundtrack.

“Leave it alone, Elle.” I didn’t want to talk about it.

“Did you hear about the promotion? Isn’t your next interview this week?”

My sister didn’t speak leave me alone. She never had.

“The interview’s Thursday,” I muttered, trying to focus on the pedals. God only knew how many candidates were in the final pool.

“And how’s Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hunky?”