Page 113 of Our Long Days
Start small. Break down the tasks. Don’t rush.
I repeat those tips over and decide to reorganize Dex’s desk. It might not be a priority, but reshuffling things is therapeutic, and it’s basically my workspace these days.
Once the top drawer was decluttered, I move onto the bottom.
“Jesus, Dex,” I mumble and pull out the stack of papers shoved inside. Clearly, I missed this one when I first blitzed his office. Dumping it all on the floor, I sit crossed leg and get to work. Checking dates. Names of suppliers. Sorting alphabetically.
Slowly, the haze lifts.
I’m halfway through the pile when something familiar catches my eye. I can’t help but laugh when I read over a piece of paper that became the bane of my existence for so many months.
I lost count of the number of resumes I handed out to businesses, only to never hear back. Dex was the only one to give me a chance.
Wait.
The door to the office opens, and understanding smacks me in the face.
Spying me on the floor, Dex smiles. “You snuck out of bed.”
Holding the piece of paper up, I beg my brain not to jump to conclusions. “Why do you have this?”
Bending down, he plucks it from my fingers, scanning it over. His smile slips.
I’m already on my feet. “You knew it was me? When I asked if you knew, you told me you didn’t.”
Calm as ever, Dex takes a slow step in my direction. “You asked me if I knew, and I said my decision was based on the contents of the resume. I stand by that.”
“You hired me because you pitied me.” My hands have a mind of their own, tugging at the neckline of my T-shirt then fiddling with my ring.
“I helped a friend who needed a break. Pity had nothing to do with it.”
I throw my arms out. “Because we slept with each other.”
“That’s not the reason. Yes, I saw your name, and I won’t lie and say it didn’t tilt the scales in your favor. I’m sorry for not telling you the truth, but had you known, you would’ve turned it down. You’re amazing at your job. Do you even realize how easily you picked everything up? I was screwing reservations up, double booking contractors, and working myself to the bone until you showed.” He raises his palms. “Each time we ran into one another, you were so sad, so hard on yourself. I wanted to help.”
His words do nothing.
I pace harder, spiral further.
He wraps both of my hands in one of his, halting my hurried movements.
His lips flatten, eyes filled with apology. “Your mom told me about the appointment.”
Humiliation drags me out of his reach.
One step. Two steps.
“You had no right,” I rasp.
He shakes his head. “She called me. She was worried about you. So am I.”
I clutch my stomach. “Of course you are.”Because I’m a mess.
“I realize now not telling you about the resumes was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”
I ignore him, spurting whatever thoughts surface. “Someone else deserves this job. Would we even be together if you hadn’t hired me?”
His eyes darken. “You know that isn’t true. Tell me you know that.”
