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Whitney zipped her bag as Scott entered the hospital room. “Hi,” she said, surprised to see him there. She hadn’t spoken to him since her accident, but Mayor Rodale had sent flowers from the office, wishing her a speedy recovery.
She had no idea where her career stood in light of everything, but her main focus right now was getting better. She was leaving the hospital that day with renewed hope and a different outlook on life.
Scott extended a small potted cactus toward her. “For you.”
“This is…different.” Cards, flowers, chocolates were customary—what was the significance of a thorny plant?
“You’re a workaholic, I assumed anything other than a cactus would require too much attention and would probably die.”
She laughed harder than she had in weeks, not even caring about the mild pain it caused to her still-healing ribs. She was feeling better, and each day she found new strength and a reason to find happiness. Today it was the cactus. “I think you’re holding out too much hope for the cactus,” she said, but unfortunately, she knew her eighteen-hour workdays had come to an end. She couldn’t keep up the pace anymore. Not at the risk of her health.
And if that meant Mayor Rodale let her go when she put in the request for an additional month’s leave, then she’d have to learn to be okay with that. She’d land on her feet. She always did.
Scott shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked nervous when he spoke. “So, I’m not going to be your assistant anymore,” he said.
Her heart rose into her throat. She’d expected this. She’d overheard the conversation between them at the office, and she’d been away from work for a month; it was to be expected that Scott would move into her job. But she’d assumed they’d wait until she was at least out of the hospital before firing her. She cleared her throat. “Because you’re taking my job. Mayor Rodale sent you here to let me go.”
He frowned. “What? No. Shit, Whitney—you think I’d fire you while you’re barely out of a hospital bed?”
Her cheeks flamed. “But you are planning to?” Weren’t they? “I mean, that’s what you meant about not being my assistant anymore. Right?”
He shook his head. “I’m planning to run for mayor.”
Her jaw dropped. Ahhh, that’s what they had been talking about. Changes…replacement. Not for Whitney. For Mayor Rodale.
“Oh my God. That’s such a relief,” she said, sagging back toward the pile of pillows. Embarrassed by her wrong assumptions but definitely relieved.
“You really thought I was after your job?”
“Yes!”
He laughed. “That’s why you were being ‘mean boss’ all the time? I thought you just didn’t like me.”
More embarrassment crept up her neck. “Sorry about that. You just impressed me…and intimidated me,” she said, the truth hard to admit.
“Well, ditto.”
His smile was kind and sincere, and she felt like a fool for thinking the worst. She touched the tiny spikes on the cactus and slowly glanced up at him. “So…you’ll be my boss now.”
He nodded. “Yep. If I win, which should be fairly easy since no one else is running so far.”
She slapped his arm. “You don’t have to gloat.”
“Sure I do. Payback will be fun,” he said with a wink.
“Just so you know, I’m going to need more time off to recover. And when I do come back, I won’t be able to keep up the frantic pace and schedule.”
Scott waved a hand. “I’d take you at fifty percent over someone else at a hundred and ten any day.”
A warmness filled her with a sense of gratitude. “Thanks, Scott.”
“Get better, okay? And take care of that cactus,” he said with a wave as he left the room.
Whitney released a deep breath when she was once again alone. Her job was secure if and when she could return to it. All her worry and apprehension over it had been for nothing.
Grabbing her coat and personal belongings, she left the hospital room, ready to take on this new chapter of her life. Forever grateful that there was one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
