Page 88 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

This was the same type as one of the specimens that had been in the quiet room.

I closed my eyes as the now familiar emotions from yesterday threatened to overwhelm me. Breathing helped, and the floral aroma surrounding me kept me from complete despair.

I wasn’t here to relive my shame and horror. No, I hoped to move past it, or at least sort it into categories that I could grasp.

The pink blossom didn’t appeal to me as much as it had a moment before, so I shifted to a purple one and got started.

Tall. Short. Dark colors. Light colors. Smaller. Bigger. My hands flew as my brain processed each addition and either accepted or rejected it.

As trivial things cleared out of my mind, I found I could breathe easier.

Except, thoughts of two people remained, no matter how many times I tried to push them aside.

Marissa and Jessica.

I cared for each of them, but not in the same way.

Most people had siblings. I did not, but if I had to guess, I would say that Marissa was like a sister to me. She knew me well, and we’d supported each other through the years.

There had never been a romantic attachment on my part. Apparently, there had always been one for her.

I couldn’t deny the fact that I had noticed it, but I’d always hoped that with my continued disinterest she would move on.

In fact, she’d dated several men over the years, which had given me hope that her feelings for me had shifted into a more platonic arena.

But that wasn’t the case.

Then there was Jessica. A buzzing started in my skull as a picture of her formed in my mind. I licked my lips and noticed I was holding my breath staring at an orange flower.

Obviously, my feelings for her were very different from those I experienced for Marissa. I still didn’t know if it was love, but I was willing to explore it.

Unless Marissa was right and all women had to change themselves for me.

I never wanted that for Jessica. She was amazing just the wayshe was.

And yet, I knew she had adjusted her behavior for me. She often walked on eggshells when she knew I was upset, and she rarely complained, but I knew she didn’t like certain things about the office and me.

Was that normal in a relationship, or was it too one-sided when I was involved?

“You’re moving slow.” I jumped at the sound of Mrs. Santos’ voice from my right.

I blinked. “Sorry.”

Mrs. Santos walked to me. Even with me sitting on the stool while she was standing, she had to look up to meet my gaze. “Lady trouble?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Thought so.” She snorted. “Men are easy to read.”

“Are we?” I murmured.

“Yes.”

I shrugged and put the flower into place.

The bouquet, which I had barely been paying attention to, was beautiful.

“You must really like her,” Mrs. Santos said.

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