Page 68 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

“That’s good,” she pauses, probably trying to determine how to deliver her next comment. “Listen, I know this is hard, but–”

“Flowers. He had flowers, Amber. And they weren’t for me. What does that say about me? Am I not enough?”

“Chloe, stop,” Amber says firmly. “This isn’t about you being enough or not. It’s about what’s best for you. And honestly, it’s his loss. Guys like him aren’t meant for women like us.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Amber insists. “And now, you can heal. You don’t have to see him again, and you don’t have to deal with the mixed signals. You’re free, Chloe. You’re out from under his grip.”

I hold on to that.

Free. I’m free.

I can finally ditch the drab wardrobe that never really suited me. I can embrace color, life, and maybe even a little bit of fun. No more playing it safe, no more dressing to blend into the background of Daniel’s world. It’s time to be bold, to be me.

I get on my feet as a newfound energy courses through me.

Trudging into the bedroom, I yank my suitcase off the shelf and open it up to find some clothes already folded inside. I must be an eternal optimist to think my unbidden thoughts would stop.

I picture Daniel on a date with someone else, and a punch of jealousy hits me right in the gut. The thought of him in bed with another woman was too much to handle.

He’d be with someone who is everything I’m not. Maybe someone with a wealthy family or a model. Those are the kinds of women men like Daniel would chase, while I’m the meantime girl until those girls come along.

You have no right to be jealous, Chloe. He was never yours.

Daniel is the last person I thought I’d want, but he grew on me when I wasn’t looking.

I should have known the moment I met him that he was trouble. I should’ve never kissed him or stayed for a nightcap at his place.

But what’s done is done, and I need to stop sulking.

I remind myself that I have responsibilities to myself.

From this moment on, Daniel will just be a former boss I respect.

It’s time to set aside any animosity and cement the line between business and pleasure.

24

Daniel

At home, after Michelle falls asleep, I grab a glass and go straight for the Jack Daniels. But then it hits me—why bother with a glass if I’m not sharing with anyone? So, I take a generous gulp right from the bottle and slump onto the sofa.

That pang in my heart has followed me home from the office. My eyes fall on Chloe’s resignation letter, which is mocking me from my coffee table. I take another swig from the bottle; eyes still fixed on the letter.

And another gulp.

And one more for good measure.

Since my eyes refuse to focus on anything else, I close them and let my head fall back against the couch.

Chloe is all I can see. She looked so angelic, smiling with her green emerald eyes.

I open my eyes for another hit from the bottle, my gaze being drawn to the letter. As I swallow, my lids drift close again.

This time, it’s Chloe’s eyes watering whenever I threw a tantrum.

Another swig.

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