Page 61 of Rude Boss 2

Essex to Quintessa: please don’t ignore me, Tessie

I have to reply before he does something completely irrational, so I respond:

Quintessa to Essex: I can’t talk right now.

Essex to Quintessa: I wanted to tell you…

Quintessa to Essex: but you didn’t

Essex to Quintessa: I’m sorry, Tessie

Quintessa to Essex: okay. You’re sorry. Just leave it at that.

Essex to Quintessa: I can’t leave it at that.

Quintessa to Essex: why not?

Essex to Quintessa: BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

I had to log off for my sanity. I close my eyes, take a deep breath then stare down at this new client’s information. Seems the words are running together. The letters are floating off the pages. Essex has my head messed up. How am I supposed to get any work done under these circumstances? I should’ve followed my first mind and stayed home.

I get up and head to the break room to get coffee. A few sips and it warms me in a way that has me thinking back to my Stewart days. I remember one of the few field trips we had – we’d gone to a museum, and I sat with him on the bus. We listened to music together. I had an earbud in my right ear, he had one in his left – and we’d take turns playing music. We played cards. Ate snacks. And when I’d tired myself out, I held his hand, leaned over and rested on his shoulder. Even though there was a busload of kids, all we needed was each other. We were in our own world – that’s how it always was when we were together and I didn’t require anything more.

I was in…love.Younglove. I’m proof that itdoesexist. It’s not just some fleeting emotion brought on by hormones. It’s very real – so much so that I’ve carried it – him – in my heart for over a decade.

“Hey, Quintessa,” Greta says after wheeling her chair over to me.

“Hey.”

Speaking softly, she says, “Mr. DePaul wants to see us in his office.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Just us two?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“No. We’ll find out in a minute.”

Here we go…

What does Essex have up his sleeve now? Greta looks scared like she thinks she’ll get fired or something. She doesn’t say a word to me on the elevator.

When we’re off on the twelfth floor, Shanice is standing there to greet us, then escorts us to Essex’s office like we don’t know where it is. She knocks and when he says, come in, she opens the door. He’s sitting behind his oversized desk, looking at us as we walk in – or shall I say looking atme. It’s almost like Greta isn’t even here.

Shanice closes the door as she exits.

Essex says, “Thank you for coming.”

Again, he’s looking at me. I divert my gaze to my fingernails while the knots in my stomach have me feeling nauseous.

Greta says, “You’re welcome, Mr. DePaul. How can we help you this morning?”

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