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Irritation tickles my chest. “No, I can handle it. It’s an adjustment is all.”
A big adjustment. Carl was happy with one manuscript every week. Four in one week means longer hours at the office.
He nods, satisfied. “Good. I’ll be scheduling a staff meeting at ten today to go over my expectations for everyone and to get the rundown on what projects are being worked.”
His all-business attitude has me hoping it won’t always be awkward between us.
“I’ll be there.”
Grayson looks away from me to his computer. “Thank you, Emma.”
I let out a breath. There’s no way I’m walking out of the office leaving this awkward tension.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
Grayson’s attention returns to me. “I am, but I’m mostly upset with myself.”
His honesty startles me. “Why?”
Grayson stands from his desk, moves to the glass windows of his office and touches them. They turn solid white and we can no longer see anything on the other side of them nor can anyone see in. With confident steps, he moves to his desk and sits on the edge, directly in front of me.
“I consider myself a patient man, but I think sometimes I like to fool myself into believing I am. For a month, I patiently waited to hear from you and when I didn’t, I found myself surprisingly disappointed. Yesterday, you were put right in front of me, and all that time spent thinking of you got the best of me. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. You were right. I’m your Boss. I need to respect that and respect you. It won’t happen again.”
That was not what I was expecting. So much for telling him how I feel. “You didn’t disrespect me.”
Grayson gives me a forced smile and from there it feels like this conversation is coming to an awkward end. Scooting the chair back, I stand to leave. Grayson watches me as I go.
Before reaching the door, I stop and turn to him. I want to say so many different things, but my voice catches in my throat. “I’ll have the three other manuscripts to you by the end of the week.” I open the door and walk out, feeling completely disappointed in myself.
God Emma, you are chicken.
My heels tap across the linoleum floor as I take a walk of shame back to my office. Once behind my closed door, I bury myself into a new book.
My calendar alarm goes off, reminding me of the 10 a.m. staff meeting. Prying myself away from the story I’ve been semi-sucked into, I open the door to find everyone bustling about, prepping for the staff meeting. As I enter the lunchroom, I see Rachel is already in there finishing off a yogurt.
A smirk smears her face as she watches me pour a new cup of coffee. “Did you hear Grayson accepted my manuscript? He said I have a real good eye for recognizing talent.”
Hearing the compliment she received from Grayson irritates me. I ignore her and take a sip of the coffee.
She tosses her empty yogurt container into the trash. “Why do you look so bummed? Did Grayson turn down your manuscript submission?” She singsongs it in a hopeful tone.
“No, he accepted it,” I reply with a curve of my lips. “He wants three more from me.”
Rachel’s mouth turns down. “He didn’t ask for three more from me.” She stares at me questioningly, as though I’m lying or did something special to get the request. This is exactly why I don’t think a relationship with Grayson is a good idea.
“Don’t fret, Rachel. You wouldn’t want that pressure anyway. It would cut into your precious sex life.”
Her expression goes from insulted to smug. “At least I have one. I heard about Derrick. Maybe if you spent less time reading about sex and actually doing it, he would’ve stuck around.”
And with that, she saunters out of the lunchroom and I’m left standing there with a mixture of emotions coursing through me—anger, frustration, sadness, wondering if she’s right, self-pity, then it all repeats.
Carrying my cute, polka dot coffee tumbler like a shield, I traipse into the staff room, taking a seat by the windows. Looking out over the town is a distraction as my eyes prickle with tears. Grayson enters and all the women straighten in their seats and push their breasts out in hopes of getting his attention. I barely turn my chair. He’s the last person I want to face right now.
Grayson’s voice carries through the room as he goes over his grand plans for the agency and how he envisions each of us taking part. Claire nudges my arm and I turn to face him. He’s staring right at me, studying me as he continues to share ideas with the group. The women are enthusiastically wagging their tails at every word that comes out of his mouth. I set the coffee tumbler down and pretend to listen as my thoughts drift off into memories of Derrick and me in what used to be our apartment, our last Christmas, the last time we made love. When I feel the tears stinging in my eyes, I grab the tumbler and sip while trying to clear my mind.
Glancing up, I can see that Grayson is still watching me. He even seems concerned. A couple other women notice him staring and their attention centers on me. I cool my emotions and sit up straight, doing my best to seem engaged.
“I’d like to go around the room and each of you tell me your current projects and then that’ll be it for today.”
