Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I sniffle and wipe my tears on my wrist as I climb out of the car. I don’t say anything else as I close the door and watch him peel away, tires skidding on the asphalt.
My hands tremble as I unlock the door to my apartment and I immediately pull up his number on my phone and try to call him.
The thought of him breaking up with me now is too much to bear. I thought we had a really good thing going.
I guess not.
Chapter Fifteen
He gives the most incredible hugs.
“Will you pay attention?” Mr. C yells at me, it was only a matter of time, I’ve been making stupid errors for the past couple of days. My head is not in it at all. “Late this morning and now your head is fuck knows where. I know you’re tired, trust me, I’m tired too but I need you on the ball today.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head to get me into it again. “I haven’t slept in days.”
“Are you sick?” he asks, his voice calmer now.
“No, it’s just Pax and I——"
He cuts me off and hisses, “Trust me, I don’t need to know about you and Pax. You’re like a couple of teenagers. Do you ever stop?”
“He broke up with me the night of your party, if that answers your question,” I mumble, yawning again. “And I know I shouldn’t let it affect my work but…” I shake my head. “Never mind… it doesn’t matter.”
With his hands on the desk and his eyes on me he sighs and then rubs his own eyes. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have known something was wrong, you’ve never been this scatterbrained in your entire employment.” He sits in the chair I usually sit in, his eyes dancing over me, a bit like we’ve danced around the topic of that embrace we shared in his marital bedroom. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it but I’m definitely not about to bring it up. “What happened?”
I raise my hands and let them fall. “I don’t know. He said I embarrassed him and then he left and hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“He’s an ass,” he growls. “You did nothing to embarrass him. He was probably drunk and——”
“He was driving, not drinking. You’re right, he’s just an ass. First he dragged me to that party in clothes I didn’t want to wear,” I glare, but not at Ezra, at the situation. “And then I’m like okay are you breaking up with me? And he said… I don’t know. And hasn’t called me since.”
“Is he in his office?”
“He’s visiting his family in Washington,” I flop onto the sofa and throw my arm over my eyes. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this stuff. I’m sorry. Let me have an hour nap and I’ll feel better afterwards.”
Shutting my eyes, I dangle one of my legs over the back of the couch and the other stretches along the seats.
I hear the lock on the door click and peek over my arm.
“What are you doing?” I ask and he moves to where I’m sprawled.
“If you’re having a nap, I’m having a nap.”
“Where are you going to nap? I’ve taken your spot and I’m not moving.”
He chuckles and lifts my legs, forcing me to move the one that I draped over the back. He sits where my legs were and shuffles down, resting his legs on the coffee table. I’m about to do the same when he places my legs over his thighs and rests his arm along the back of the couch.
“This is——”
“Nap, Rose.”
My lips clamp shut, and I try to ignore the tingling feeling spiraling through my legs.
I close my eyes, surprised I can even relax. I’m not sure this is appropriate. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it if anyone asks, but I don’t care. I really am tired, and this really is quite comfortable.
I fall asleep with too much ease.
When I wake up again, an hour has passed, the phone is ringing, and Mr. C is still asleep.
I slide my feet from his lap one at a time. He doesn’t stir.
I answer the phone and take the call as quietly as I can. It’s luckily nothing too important.
I get back on with the job I screwed up before my nap, feeling groggy but better than I did. I also call for coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
He stretches about twenty minutes later and his hand reaches out, patting the sofa to find me. When he realizes I’m gone he finds me at his desk and smiles softly.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod and puncture a hole in a sheet of paper before adding it to a large binder. “Much.”
“You still haven’t booked your annual leave and I’m starting to think you need it.”
“I’m starting to think you’re right.”