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“I enjoy life just fine,” I told her, but even I could hear the hollowness in my words. I hadn’t been enjoying life, not until Jessa came along. But now I was realizing she’d yanked me too far off course. “All of this shit is a non-issue. I’m just asking you to focus alongside me so we can get shit done.”
“Yeah.” She nodded, staring blankly out at the road. “You really seemed like you were enjoying life when I first started working for you.”
“I don’t need the fucking commentary,” I bit out, frustration bubbling over inside me. “I need someone who’s on my side. Are you on my side, Jessa?”
She glowered at me. “I can’t believe you even have to ask.”
“So I guess that’s a yes.”
“It’s ‘of course I am, numbskull’. The question is insulting. I’ve been in love with you since seventh grade and you’re going to ask me if I’m on your side?”
Her words hammered through the air between us, and judging from the sharp intake of breath on her end, she hadn’t intended to say them out loud.
“Just forget I said anything,” she muttered, facing away from me.
I white-knuckled the steering wheel, trying to control the waves of emotion coursing through me. She’d kicked up too much dust, and I was choking, struggling to reorient myself. We didn’t talk the rest of the way home, but the interior of my mind was raucous with thoughts and shouts.
She’d admitted she was in love with me. That added a whole different layer to the unfurling onion between us.
Because maybe you’re in love with her too.
I couldn’t go near the L word. Not with her. Not with anyone. Just having the conversation was just a reminder that I’d gone way too fucking far. I should have realized it when I opted for an upstate getaway in lieu of making headway on the leak in my inner circle. I should have known when I stopped caring whether employees saw me holding her hand.
Jessa is just a dangerous distraction.
I’d gotten lost in the sweet-smelling and attractive bog of romance, lured by luscious tits and a shared childhood. This argument was all the proof I needed to remind myself that the tits and sentimental past meant nothing compared to the road I knew I needed to follow.
Jessa and I were ill-matched. I needed someone who would leave me alone, not challenge me. Someone who would respect my need for work, respect my desire to hyper-focus on life as I knew it. I didn’t need change. I needed unquestioning, silent support.
No, scratch that. I didn’t need that. I didn’t need anyone at all. When had I forgotten that? Truth was, I needed to take a major step back. Starting yesterday. I’d been an idiot to begin anything with Jessa in the first place.
But I’d be an even bigger idiot if I continued what we’d started.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JESSA
There had to be some word in the English language for the awkward aftermath of an intense argument.
I was consumed by a tornado of anger, regret, and confusion. Heck, I was ready to invent this word myself.Angretusion. No, it would have to be much simpler and more elegant than that, since it would clearly be a word I’d need to use with frequency in Damian’s world.
Because despite all my best intentions, words had been said. Emotions had flared. And now, things had changed.
Saturday afternoon we parted ways with scarcely abye, then Sunday startedandended without a single word from Damian. So all thatangretusioneventually just transformed into sadness, which I supposed should have been the fourth ingredient in that unpleasant cocktail of a word.
When Monday morning came, I had to drag myself into the office. I knew things would be weird at best, but the lack of contact had me on edge. I’d gotten so used to the new normal we’d created, the sweetness and the romance and the togetherness. What had started as “something fun” had become so much more. And now we were fighting like we’d been married for years.
That had to mean something. I just wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.
I got to the office a little early—just so Damian couldn’t question myfocus—and got things ready for the week. And yes, I grumbled to myself the entire time.How can he think I’m too divided? All I do is an excellent job for him. I forget one measly thing and suddenly I’m the worst employee he’s ever had.
I knew things were bad when I’d caught myself engaging in imaginary conversations with Damian all day Sunday as I finished pulling the call logs he’d requested, and then again on Monday morning. I couldn’t deny it. This shit hurt. All the more so because his words held a kernel of truth.
Iwasdivided.
I’d come here divided. My end goal was the fashion certificate, and this job was simply the means.
So there was another ingredient for the cocktail: humiliation. Because I felt transparent. I felt seen to the core for the dumb, naïve hick that I was. I’d stepped into Damian’s world and less than two months later, I was floundering.
