Page 81 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

My fingers flexed around the grips on the wheelchair. “I need to get back.”

“They can handle it,” Marissa said.

I stopped pushing. “Marissa, I’m in charge.”

“Jessica can handle it.”

“She shouldn’t have to.”

Marissa used her hands to turn the wheels of the chair, and she swiveled in place. Her cast leg came around in a wide arc, and I had to step back to avoid being hit by it.

The skill with which she maneuvered the chair irritated me. She was clearly familiar with the process, and this couldn’t be her first time in one. So why had she been acting so helpless?

“How are you and Jessica getting along?” Marissa asked abruptly.

I hadn’t expected Marissa to be here, and each of our interactions took me farther and farther away from the scenarios I’d gone over for the day.

This question came from left field, and I felt my frown deepen. Was Marissa looking for a particular answer? Was she worried about me? About Jessica having to deal with me? Or was it something else? I gave an honest, if somewhat incomplete, answer. “She’s been invaluable this past week.”

Marissa snorted. The short sprinkler soaking we’d gotten had taken the glamorous edge off Marissa’s appearance. A few of her auburn curls had wilted, and some of her makeup was now splotchy. Instead of the perfectly manicured woman, I could tell Marissa was both in pain and hurting emotionally.

My answer about Jessica pulled Marissa’s eyebrows together, and she scowled. “Invaluable?”

I was apparently on rocky ground, and I didn’t know why, soI kept my answer to a single word. “Yes.”

Marissa closed her eyes and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

In an attempt to keep whatever was brewing inside of her from coming out, I said, “I should get you to the bathroom.”

“No!” Marissa flung the word from her mouth, and it barreled into me, causing me to take a step back but leaving me unable to move after she pinned me in place with a furious gaze.

Marissa’s nostrils flared. “She’s not the one for you.”

It took me a moment to rewind the conversation. Marissa was referring to Jessica.

A sinking feeling dragged my stomach down, and I wondered if Marissa had somehow found out that Jessica and I were…

What were we? Not dating, but there was certainly interest on my part.

And hers.

Marissa’s eyes never left mine. “She doesn’t understand you.”

While I wanted to protest and tell Marissa that Jessica, thus far, understood me better than any woman ever had, I needed the topic of this conversation to change.

“Marissa,” I said slowly, “I should get back to the party. People are worried, and we have no idea what the fire department is going to say or do when they get here.”

For the first time, Marissa’s furious expression softened.

I went on. “I need to manage this. You know that.”

“Let me do it.” She reached out for my hand. I was close enough that she managed to grasp my fingers before I could pull away. “You know I’m good with people.” Her voice trembled.

I tried to disentangle myself from her as I spoke. “Marissa, you’re brave and good to be here, but you must be in a lot of pain. There will be more chaos, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

Marissa’s eyes went from stormy to glistening with tears in a moment. “Oh Peter, you’re always so good about caring for me.” Her grip tightened, and my fingers began to ache.

This conversation was so far away from anything I ever thought I’d have with Marissa that I had no idea where to go from here. All I had was the goal of getting her out and getting me back to the party. So I patted her hand. “Let me find you a ride home.”

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