Page 96 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

I muster up the strength to raise an eyebrow. “It’s a look,” I murmur. “I’m setting a new trend. ‘Depressed yet fashionable.’”

“Ugh.” She scoffs, setting the mug on my nightstand and folding her arms. “It’s been days, Leah.Days.You will merge with the bed soon, like osmosis or something. Isn’t there, like, a textbook rule about heartbreak where you’re supposed to at least attempt to shower after day two?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“I could’ve sworn that’s a thing.”

The thought of moving, let alone standing under a stream of water, makes me cringe. “Maybe tomorrow,” I say, pulling the covers tighter around me, even though I’m sweltering.

Can I just be, like, just exist?

“Come on,” she says, jostling my shoulder. “It’s just a shower, not an Olympic event.”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. A double-decker one. One of those tourist ones in London that stop every two seconds so everyone can take pictures.” I make a sound that soundslike a dying toad. “Then a plane just happened to crash on my mangled, barely-breathing body in the middle of the highway.”

“Jesus.”

“Jesusis right, Penny.”

Penny snorts, then sighs, leaning against the bedpost and fixing me with that serious look of hers that makes me feel like she’s about to diagnose me with something terrible. “Leah, you knew this might happen,” she says gently. “You knew Silas was, I don’t know, complicated. We talked about it from the beginning, remember?”

“I was so stupid.”

“Leah—"

“Complicated is an understatement,” I mumble, shifting under the covers, though her words are like tiny pinpricks of truth. Of course, I knew. I saw the signs flashing in neon. And yet, I walked right into it. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Penny sighs again, sits at the edge of the bed, and picks at the loose thread of my comforter. “Okay, enough with the self-hate. You’re not an idiot. Just a . . . let’s call it a highly optimistic person.”

“Optimistic? Right. That’s just another word for a dummy,” I say bitterly. “The girl who thought she could waltz into the life ofSilas Waverly and come out unscathed. Dad was right. A man who isn’t married at that age is a giant red flag.”

She nudges me with her shoulder. “Or maybe just a girl who wanted a little happiness. No crime in that, yeah?”

I groan, rolling onto my side. “Happiness? Or a front-row seat to my own downfall?”

“Are you going to spin everything I say into your own little prophecy of doom?”

I rub my eyes. “Maybe?”

“Whatever it is, you don’t deserve this,” Penny insists, pulling me into a half-hug.

She smells like lavender and peppermint and the faintest trace of the fabric softener we both use on our laundry. “But lying here, looking like you’re auditioning for a zombie flick, isn’t going to change anything. So, come on. Let’s get you up. We can go out and get some fresh air. Hit the gym, go for a walk, whatever you want.”

“The gym?”

“Best thing to do after a heartbreak. I read that on BuzzFeed.”

“Ugh. Who still uses BuzzFeed?”

“So, when next he sees you in your banging body, he’d be kicking himself with regret.” Penny beams. “And then, you’d be with the absolute love of your life, and Silas would rue the day he fumbled you.”

“But he’s the love of my life.” I hate how pathetic I sound. “Or, at least, I hoped he was.”

“Oh, baby. I thought Steve in fourth grade was the love of my life, too. And then, I thought it was Greg, then Jude, then Ringo, then—”

“What do you mean,” I cock my head, “you dated a guy named Ringo?”

Penny bursts into laughter. “What can I say? I was going through aMexican papiphase.” She shrugs and does a little shoulder dance. “My point is who we think we’re going to spend the rest of our lives with isn’t necessarily who we end up spending it with. Some are lucky to have their last love be their only love. But the rest of us? We gotta go through a bit of trial and error, love.”

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