Page 138 of Dear Grumpy Boss

“You feel sorry for me,” I accused.

She cocked her hip. “Your boyfriend’s being a dick, so sorta.”

“He’s not a dick. He’s just—” I broke off. I hadn’t decided exactly how I felt.

Saoirse came at me with her arms out. I let her hug me but absolutely refused to cry. My makeup was done and I didn’t have time to redo it. This was where I made my stand.

She pulled back, resting her hands on my shoulders. “He’s being a dick, honey. There’s no disputing that. I get what he’s going through is huge, but you’re here entirely in the dark. It’s not right. He can’t just set you aside when life gets tough.”

“You’re right, and I’m not going to try to deny it. But what can I do? I can’t exactly storm into his office and demand attention. That’s not my style. Even if it was—” I choked on my own words. It took me two attempts to clear my throat so I could get them out. “I’m barred from his office anyway.”

I almost crumpled then. Saoirse’s sympathetic expression made me want to fall into her arms and spend my day there. I wasn’t this girl, but the thing was, Weston had made promises the last time I’d forgiven him for choosing his job over me, and I’d believed he’d keep them.

He hadn’t.

Reality was a Mack truck.

“Lise—”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I have to go to work. I’m sure everything will be okay.”

She sighed like I was the saddest thing she’d ever seen, and I sort of felt like it. If Patrick had simply stopped talking to me for days on end then told his assistant I wasn’t allowed to visit, I would have told him to go fuck himself, no matter the underlying reason.

But this wasWeston.

The exception to every rule.

I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.

My midnight texts kept coming, but that was my only correspondence with Weston for the rest of the week. Work was busy, and in my off-hours, Saoirse practically danced on her head to distract me from my quickly fading boyfriend.

I read the news and listened to gossip around the office. People worried but were certain Weston would fix everything. They said this while wringing their hands and updating their résumés “just in case.”

Sympathy softened me toward Weston. His mantle was heavy. Everyone was looking to him now, and that had to be a difficult weight to stand tall under.

My patience was a finite thing, though, and it was wearing thin. One week of neglect and being set aside for Andes, and I was more than hurt. Weston was ruining us more every day that ticked by.

His midnight texts were a slap in the face.

I wanted to run up to the penthouse and scream, “You banned me from your office!”But I wasn’t the screaming kind. I was the folding kind. The “quietly pack it away” kind. The “remove myself from a situation, flattening me little by little” kind.

When the weekend came around again, I trudged to the farmers’ market with Saoirse, but even her buoyancy couldn’t keep me afloat. I took my phone out when she was distracted and texted Weston, even though I’d promised myself and her I wouldn’t.

Me:Hey…I know you’re busy, but I thought maybe I’d see you, even for a little bit. Are you at the office?

Without waiting for a reply I knew down to my bones I wouldn’t be getting, I stuffed my phone back in my bag, my stomach roiling with shame over asking for scraps.

Saoirse bumped into me, drawing my thoughts from my heartache. “Babe, look what I got for you.” She held up a glass jar in the shape of a beehive with a little bee on top.

“What is it?”

“You put honey in it and use this little swirling stick to serve it. Isn’t it adorable? I bought it for you because you’re the bee's knees.”

I took the container from her, choking back sudden tears. “This is the sweetest present I’ve ever been given.”

There was no hiding from Saoirse. She cupped my cheeks with both hands and kissed my forehead.

“Don’t you dare cry in the middle of the farmers’ market or I’ll start crying too, and then I’ll never be able to come back and ask for the honey guy’s phone number.”

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