Page 37 of Dear Grumpy Boss

The thought spurs me into action as I pull the drain plug and jump into the shower. Laughter builds up in me as I try to figure out hardware that could belong on a starship.

By the time I towel down, my skin is both prune-y and tingly. I gather the multitude of bottles for moisturizer, shampoo, conditioner—when is the chance I’ll get my hands on a luxury brand like this— and step into the bedroom. Only to realize that I didn’t bring anything with me last night.

Even my phone is MIA.

I do another sweep of the room—the last thing I want is to advertise my fantasy night by walking out wrapped in the hotel towel—when my gaze lands on the cozy armchair in front of the fireplace.

I dump the cosmetics on the bed, curiosity lighting a fire in me. There are several things on the armchair, beginning with Zayn’s sweatshirt that he gave me yesterday, the tote I leave in the staff room foremergencies—which contains a change of clothes and all other necessities, and my phone.

I dress quickly in loose linen pants, skip the bra and put on Zayn’s sweatshirt, and hurriedly switch my phone on. My gaze catches on a box on the coffee table I recognize. There’s also a carafe of coffee, along with fresh fruit and pastries.

Did he wait until the breakfast was delivered for me?

I don’t even need to see the logo on the pink box to know it’s Devil’s Donuts—my favorite kind.

There’s a crisply folded note on top.

My towel nearly slips off my body as I reach for it with shaking fingers. The words are in badly written cursive and it’s only because I’ve worked for him for so many years that I can read them on the first try.

Good morning, Mouse.

I’ll miss you at work. We broke too many rules for things to go back to the way they were. Plus, you’re wasted on these people and me. Before you say no to this, your dream is way too precious to just stay that. Like you always say, we need more books in the world, and who better than you to get them into people’s hands.

If you make a fuss that it’s too much, I’ll never talk to you again.

Z

My heart beats loudly in my chest as I read the note over and over. Under the box of donuts, there’s a white envelope with a pink string tied to it.

For Mouseis scribbled on the front. I nearly rip through the cover to get to the documents. My chest squeezes so tight that it’s a miracle I can breathe.

It’s a deed in my name to the secondhand bookstore attached to Devil’s Donuts, the same store with a For Sale sign hanging on it for the past few months.

Mariska and I make plans about how we would revamp the place and give it new life. Create a haven for people who love books.

I gushed about it only last night and now, he bought me the deed to the place.

My knees give out and I collapse into the armchair. Tears run down my cheeks as I lay my head back and stare at the pretty ceiling.

I don’t know if I’m happy or heartbroken. Or both.

On the one hand, he’s given me my lifelong dream. Already, a part of my brain is busy coming up with all the things I want to do with the store, starting with painting the walls.

On the other, he’s removed me from his life in one fell swoop. The big girl in me knows that it’s for the best. At this rate—seeing him once or twice a year, I can get over him by the time I’m fifty.

Straightening in the chair, I tuck my feet under me, pour myself a little coffee and take a bite of a glazed donut.

I read the documents over and over while I polish off the fruit cup, scrambled eggs, and two cups of coffee.

I began yesterday with the idea of breaking free of an obsession that wasn’t good for me, of growing up and moving on, of taking strides toward a new me.

Zayn has not only given me immense pleasure and made me see myself in a new way, but also the perfect reason to stick to my original plan.

I tidy the suite, make up the bed, open the French doors just a little bit to air out the sweat/sex cocktail, glad to see that he’s already left a generous cash tip. But then, as grumpy as my boss is, he hides the most generous of hearts under that exterior.

Except he’s not my boss anymore.

He’s not my anything anymore.

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