Page 78 of Our Little Cliche
The fact that we’re going to have to act platonic for an entire day and a whole night just grinds my gears. I actually have to treat her like my employee and not the love of my life. It’s an abomination if you ask me.
“Yes, boss. I am ready Freddie.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I guess I’ll have to get used to that, won’t I?”
“You might like it…”
“No. I don’t. I don’t want to be known as just your boss, Holly. I want to be your everything.”
“You already are, silly. But shh, they might hear that,” she winks, playfully snatching her handbag from under my arm. “Come on slow poke, let’s smash this shit in the park. Get you some RSI in that old wrist of yours.”
This woman.
It would be a lie if I said that I wasn’t crapping myself. Quinn is literally paying for me to have Holly in my life right now, and all he has to do is snap his fingers and she’s a goner. Myself too. We’ve both been dreading this day, and now that the reality is right under our noses, it’s a little more real and hard to swallow.
On a positive note, Quinn might get distracted enough with counting money from all the books I’ll sell today and bragging about the agency to notice how shit Holly and I are at not lookingat each other like we want to skip off into the sunset holding hands.
We’ve got tonight to get through too. I think that terrifies me even more.The Hickett Gala,the New Year’s rendezvous is set toroar into 2025 with a bang. If I survive the night, that is. I don’t know how I’m going to function, let alone breathe when Holly wears a ball gown tonight. I won’t even be able to walk her into the event by my side, it would be too suspicious. And what about taking her for a dance? I couldn’t.
I won’t be able to touch her today, or tonight—at all.
And that just fucking kills me.
“Ah, you must be Holly. Hello, darling,” Quinn says, approaching our booth and reaching out to shake her hand. My gut pivots and spins with nerves, the unsettling thought of impending doom simmering in.
We can do this, we can do this, wecando this,I chant in my head.
“Mr. Potleigh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Please, call me Quinn.”
“Morning, Quinn,” I tap him on the back of the shoulder before severing a box open with a knife.
While Holly and Quinn occupy themselves talking about work, I get to laying my books out in a stylish fashion, scattering the not safe for work art pieces on the table, and loosely filling blank spaces with bookmarks and stickers.
“I’m going to go grab some coffee before the doors open, would you like one, Mr. Stone?” Holly addresses me without a pinch of flirtation or lust.
Ouch.
“Yes, please.”
“And you, Quinn?”
“Thank you.”
When she’s gone Quinn quickly locks himself to my shoulder. “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?”
Fuck. Not this question.
“She’s certainly a hard worker.”
“An eye for detail. She gave me the notes of your current work in progress, I’m impressed. Far too intelligent for a shitty magazine agency. ”
Wait, what?“She did?”
“Yes. I wanted to see how she managed with your writing. I assume she cooks well also? You haven’t said otherwise.”
Shit. I’ve completely forgotten to fill him in with everything since she first walked in my front door. “Oh, yes. Of course. I’ve even had Australian cuisine. Sorry for not emailing you much, I’ve been busy…”fucking, falling in love, and—“writing.”
