Page 148 of Dear Grumpy Boss

when they’re together.

No wonder I’m out of sync without you.

I love you.

What the hell was this?

Tears sprung to my eyes. My teeth dug into my bottom lip to keep them from spilling over.

I crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash. But having it in the small can under my desk was too close, so I picked up the whole thing, carried it to the break room, and dumped my trash into the bin there. Then I strode back to my desk and turned on my computer.

My hands were trembling as I typed out an email response to that utter nonsense.

To:[email protected]

From:[email protected]

Weston,

Please refrain from leaving anything on my desk unless it pertains to Andes. It’s incredibly unprofessional to bring personal matters to the office. You have the luxury of an office where you can hide your reactions. I am sitting in the middle of my coworkers, forced to read alove notefrom the man, my boss, who effectively gutted me.

This is not fair, and if it continues, working at Andes will be untenable for me.

Elise

I stared at the email for several minutes, my stomach churning madly. Then I took a deep breath and deleted it all. If I opened up contact between us, he’d take it as permission to continue, and I didn’t want that.

I had no idea what Weston was doing now. He’d made it abundantly clear he couldn’t be in a relationship with me. I truly had thought that would be the end of everything. But while I was in Wyoming, he’d texted me nonstop. Saoirse had eventually taken my phone from me.

All these thoughts would be saved for later, when I was home with a glass of wine and Saoirse to yell our frustrations to the universe. Another deep breath and I tucked it all away.

Everything was going well until noon. My stomach growled, notifying me it was time to grab Simon and Rebecca for lunch. Before I could shut down my computer or make any move, the distant ding of the elevator shot like a bullet to the part of my brain that told me it was time forflight.

Moments later, Weston Aldrich strode through the creative floor. His long, lean legs carried him toward me so swiftly I hadn’t been able to brace myself for his presence.

He stopped in front of my desk, his fingertips pressing on the edge.

“Hello, Elise.”

I blinked up at him, focusing somewhere over his shoulder. “Hello.”

“I was wondering if you’d join me for lunch today.”

He might as well have slapped me for how violently I flinched. “What?” I wheezed.

“I’d like to have lunch with you. Will you join me? I made reservations—”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

He went still, the tips of his fingers turning white from how hard he leaned on them.

“Please.”

His forceful plea was what did it. Finally, I forced my eyes to his. It was a mistake. My agony reflected back at me, which didn’t make any sense. He had chosen this. Why was he here, acting like this was just as torturous for him as it was for me?

I could have thrown what he’d said to me when I’d tried to bring him lunch back at him. I could have been cruel and mean, telling him he’d wasted his time coming here and should have just called.

But I’d never allow myself to lash out because I was hurting. Elaine had worn her pain like porcupine needles. Becoming my mother was my worst nightmare. Weston wasn’t going to turn me into her.

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