Page 75 of Overworked

Everything’s suddenly so confining. I loved this office before, but it now seems so clinical and sterile. I need something to make me feel comfortable.

“I wonder what a hammock would look like in he—” I say to myself, stopping mid-sentence.

Did I just say that? A hammock?

A knock on the door brings me back for a moment.

“Julia, good news. We have a new client that’s taking her entire office on vacation. Margo sold her a VIP package. Amazing, right?” my assistant says, her voice full of giggles.

“Wow, that’s amazing! Way to go. If you’ll excuse me, please. I have a call,” I smile, trying to avoid sarcasm.

I can’t get her out of my office fast enough. I’m to the point that I might either scream, cry, or run from the building. I don’t even know why I’m so upset.

Since I built Destinations Travel Facilitators, this has been my baby, my creation, and decided I would be the only one ever to run the business. Of course, each employee is talented in their own way, but none compares to me, right?

That’s what I thought until today.

What should I do? What would you do?

I open my computer screen to the company newsletter that was just released, and another tug at the heart is right in front of me. My assistant got engaged, and the entire office threw a party while I was gone. I didn’t even know.

I missed something significant to someone on my staff.

Using an online app, I send her flowers to congratulate her, but still, that’s not enough for me. I’ve never suffered from depression, but I’m starting to understand what it feels like.

I realize that no matter how hard I fight this, my company is reliable; I have an excellent staff, and if I needed to step away at any time, for any amount of time, I can.

I lean forward to steady myself with the desk, my hands covering my face. The tears are on the verge of falling. I can’t help it.

Maybe a good cry is what I need to cleanse my soul. My business had been a replacement for a social life and a family for years now. It’s quite disheartening to realize that I’ve wasted so much time.

The tears start. I can’t stop them. I hate showing weakness, even just around myself.

I needed that vacation more than I realized. I miss them all over again, and I was just with the four guys yesterday.

Is it normal to miss people that quickly?

My assistant brings in a fresh cup of coffee. I mention her engagement, and she’s waving that ring around like some sort of trophy. For some women, it would be special.

It is special, but I’ve never seen myself as that type. Settling down in the suburbs, starting a family with a guy, throwing block parties every third Saturday…going to bed with just one guy…

I’m slowly realizing I might be more of a collar type of girl.

“Congratulations on the engagement. Make sure to let me know where you’d like to go on a honeymoon. The company will arrange it as a gift,” I say, smiling.

Her face is all the thank you that I need. She’s gushing with excitement, thanking me way too many times. I take care of my people.

I know what I need to do.

I need a few days away to think. I need to get my head straight and find some peace.

I’m not running away. Just taking a little time to self-reflect.

I book a few days at bed and breakfast that my clients have raved about many times.

I stand up suddenly, telling my assistant that I’ll be out of the office for a few days. I disappear through the doorway into the elevator before she can ask me anything. I want to be left alone.

First thing I do is turn my cell phone off. It won’t be turned on again till I’m back in the city.

After a quick trip to my house, I have a small bag of essentials, and even a few racy romance novels to read. I plan on using this time to my advantage. I swear to myself to not even think about Derek, Spencer, Xane, and Killian.

They can go ahead and miss me.

Have you ever just escaped without telling a soul where you were going? If not, welcome to my world. I’m not the missing bride, just the missing boss.

Chapter 39

Spencer

“Table for three. Can we have someplace private, babe?” I ask the waitress who can’t keep her eyes to herself.

She nods her head so fast it reminds me of a bobblehead doll. One of those cheesy little ones you see in the gift shop at a shitty resort.

I wouldn’t catch a garbage trinket like that at mine.

This chick probably has her panties on fire for me. I can‘t understand why they all forget to speak when I arrive.

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