Page 12 of I Won't Be In On Monday

There isn’t a bone in Remington’s body that would make him give up his weekly dates with the most beautiful women in the city.

I think about my dad and my childhood. About my mom passing when I was young and how Dad stepped up. How I'vealways wished that I had a mom and a big happy family. Not that Dad hasn't done his best or that he doesn’t love me. I had my own unique, special childhood, but sometimes I wondered what it would've been like, who I would've been, what I would've been doing, where my life would be now if my mom had survived or if my dad had remarried and given me a stepmom.

I get off of the couch and walk to the bathroom and let down my long hair and stare in the mirror. I take off my thick, black glasses and study my reflection. It's blurry. I can't even really see myself. I do have contacts now, but I never wear them. Maybe I should start.

I no longer want to be the blurry woman shining back at me in the mirror. If I can’t even see myself, how can I expect anyone else to see me?

"I just want to be beautiful," I say, picking up my long hair and dropping it down.

I want my boss to call me at 1:00 in the morning because he wants me so badly he can’t sleep. Not because he wants me to be his defacto housemaid.

His call was not a compliment. In fact, it was a diss. I want him to call me endlessly because he wants me in his bed so badly that he can think of nothing else. Not because he wants me to come and take care of his apartment to get ready for his little girl.

Disappointment seeps through me. It isn't even like I want Remington Parker. Yes, I am still in major denial in my life. It helps me cope. I think the reality of my situation is that I acknowledge that he’s not the best catch in the world. Yes, he is gorgeous, and yes, he has charisma, but he’s not the sort of guy that any sane woman pictures a happily ever after with. He isn't the sort of guy that you marry and have a nuclear family and a white picket fence in Upstate New York, and in my heart of hearts that's what I want. That's what I need.

Still, it would've been nice for him to crave me in that way. It would've been nice to know that just once I was an object of desire to someone.

I splash water on my face and take a deep breath and grab my toothbrush. I am not going to feel sorry for myself. I have a great life. I have friends. I make good money. I have my own apartment, and I do like working for Remington Parker, for the most part.

I also have dreams for my life. Goals to become a published writer. My book's coming along, and if my writer's group is correct, it's not half bad. Maybe I'll even find an agent and sell a couple of copies. That would be cool. I'd love to walk into a bookstore and see my book on bookshelves or go on TikTok and see readers gushing about how much they loved my writing. That would be cool. It would validate me in a way that nothing else in my life could.

I have to focus on the right things. I have to focus on goals that could actually come true. Writing and finishing my book is a dream that could come true. Being with Remington Parker is not. I’ll help him tomorrow, and then I’ll move on with my life.

Chapter Four

Remington

There's a knock at my door at 7:59 a.m., and I smile wryly as I make my way there. Juniper is nothing if not punctual.

I open the door and see her standing there, a tired expression on her face. She holds up a white bag and yawns slightly. A subtle tug at my heartstrings hits me. She looks adorable standing there in her Snoopy T-shirt and leggings. So different from how she normally looks in the office. Her hair, which is normally in a tight bun, hangs in a long ponytail down her back, and I realize that it’s much longer than I thought. She tilts her head to the side and pushes her glasses up her nose, and my eyes are drawn to her pink lips for a few moments before she speaks.

“I got bagels. Plain with butter.” She yawns again and wrinkles her nose. “I am hoping you have coffee.” I usher her into the apartment as I nod. She walks past me, and I close the door before looking back at her slightly disheveled appearance and thinking how different she moves when not in the office.

"Not in a suit today?" I tease her as my eyes take in her rather shapely butt.

"No, Mr. Parker. I'm not coming to your house on a Saturday morning in a suit." She yawns again and folds her arms. "Coffee, please."

“Yes, ma’am.” I grin as I head toward my very expensive espresso machine and dismiss the thoughts crowding my brain. Juniper is not my type. I am not attracted to her. I’m just not used to seeing her in casual clothes.

I watch as she looks around, a small smile on her face.

"You like what you see?" I ask, and she shrugs nonchalantly.

"It's as I expected."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, it's big. Lots of black leather and dark colors." She wrinkles her nose. "I mean, it's a bachelor pad, right? It works for you."

"You're saying you don't like it." I'm surprised at her comments. Every woman who's been to my penthouse has fallen in love with it immediately.

"I mean, there's nothing homey about it." She shakes her head. "And nothing warm. I mean, you obviously love it, so that's all that matters."

I nod slightly as we head toward the kitchen. "I have an espresso machine, a pretty fancy one, so I can make you almost anything you want. Do you know what you'd like?”

"I would love a macchiato, please." She gives me a warm smile. "Two sugars."

"Coming right up. You want to have a seat?" I nod towards the island and the tall bar stools next to it.

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