Page 73 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

His gaze softens for a split second before the steel returns. “Caring isn’t enough if you can’t deliver. We’re on a tight timeline.”

My chest tightens. “I’m trying, Cole. I just need a little more time, some feedback—maybe even a fresh perspective.”

He studies me, the tension palpable. “Time isn’t a luxury we have. I’ll give you another week to get things under control and if you can’t, I’ll hand over the project to someone more capable.”

“More capable…”

“And we’ll find you a position on a team that makes more sense for you. See if we can work things out.”

I stare at Cole. His dark, beady eyes lack any sort of emotion. “And if we can’t?”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I inhale. I’ll be fired. If I don’t get it together, I’ll be fucking fired.

I’m good at my job, I know I am. “I’m just going through something right now. I’m sorry. It won’t impact my work any further.”

“Don’t make promises. Just keep your head down, do the work, and leave the shit at home.”

I nod, though my insides roil.

How can I leave the shit at home when I’m working every hour of the day? I work at the office, I work at home. I work and work and work and there’s no time for anything else. “I understand.”

“Great. Let’s meet top of next week to see if we’re on the same page.”

I can’t sit another moment in this office. “Thanks, Cole.”

I shoot up out of my chair and rush out. But I don’t go to my desk. No, it would be embarrassing to cry there. I go to the bathroom where the second the door closes behind me, the tears spill forth.

Hands over my eyes, I weep.

I haven’t cried since returning to Seattle. Haven’t let myself. Haven’t had the fucking time.

I’ve been trying to be so focused on work and pushed everything aside to do so and apparently, it’s not fucking enough! I’m still falling short of Cole’s expectations.

I can handle feedback. I’ve handled it before. But the tears won’t stop coming.

My life is falling apart.

Returning to Seattle, I might not have had Trevor, but I knew I had my work. I would always have my work. If I wasn’t meant for a relationship, I wasmeant to work.

Now, here I am. Failing at that too.

What the fuck do I have but me?

The sobs pulse through me without signs of stopping. Shit, maybe Becca is right and part of this is hormonal. Even in the utmost turmoil, I’ve never been quite so inconsolable. Even when Trevor broke my heart the first time.

Even when my ex…

I pray no one walks in on me. It would be embarrassing to say the least.

Eventually, I’m able to at least push the tears away to see straight. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull out my period tracking app to see if maybe everything is out of sync and I’m PMS-ing hardcore.

You’re late. That’s okay! Periods are unpredictable.

I blink. I’m late?Howlate?

I go to the calendar portion of the app.

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