copy of my resignation letter on his desk. She’s standing in the doorway, looking smug as I walk back, practically having to shove her out of the way to close the door.
“I wanted to like you,” I say. “When I started here, I wanted to like all of you. Heck, I wanted to be you. I stupidly thought one day, maybe you’d all accept the fact that I’m smart and I work hard, even though I’m younger. You’re great at your job. All of you are brilliant. I didn’t have to be a threat. I could have been an ally. But you all have chosen to compete and be catty instead. It’s why I quit.”
Well. That and the whole being-in-love-with-my-boss thing. But obviously, I’m not bringing that up in my little speech.
Roxana has the classic cartoon face of shock, her eyes wide and unblinking, her mouth an O. She’s still wearing that expression when I brush past her. Finally, I veered out of my safe lane, speaking my mind and taking no prisoners. Letting loose felt amazing.
If only I could do the same thing with Gavin.
I make it to the elevator, tasting both sweet freedom and bittersweet nostalgia as I ride down to the lobby for the last time, completely alone.
Thankfully, no one is home when I stop by to pack my things. I don’t want to explain the way my life hit a hairpin curve in the last two days. I leave a note on the fridge, which I started and stopped ten times, filling the trash with crumpled pieces of pink paper.
I finally scribble out this gem:
Hey, everybody! I’ve gone to Gavin’s parents’ ranch with him and his daughter. LONG story.
Probably not a love story. But hopefully it will end happily anyway.
-Zo
I know the minute anyone sees that, my phone is going to blow up, so I switch it to silent before I make the drive back to Gavin’s house. When I arrive, his black truck is parked around front, and he’s pacing the porch. Relief washes over his face when he sees me, and I can’t stop my heart from jackrabbiting in my chest. His smile, just for me, is breathtaking.
His fitted black polo shirt isn’t bad either.
“Hi,” I say with a wobbly smile as he opens my car door.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, and my heart bursts sideways like a shooting star. “I don’t know what to do with Ella.”
And … the star dies a quick death.
Gavin isn’t glad to see me. He’s glad to see me because he needs my help. And this is exactly why I asked for a contract. A paid position that has clear boundaries. His life just had a bomb dropped in the center, in the form of a young girl. The radius of the impact is still unknown. It would be too easy to let the false intimacy of caring for Gavin while he was sick and helping him with Ella lull us both into feeling closer than we are. I need firm boundaries to protect myself, to protect him.
You’re also scared. And a big, giant coward.
I tilt my head at Gavin. “You know that Ella barely tolerates me, right? I’m not some magic child-whisperer. I wasn’t even a good babysitter.”
“I saw you and Ella together. You bonded.” His words have a desperate edge to them.
I soften slightly considering how difficult this must be for him. And for Ella. How did I become the person who is supposed to be the glue somehow to this broken relationship? Kids usually hate me. I don’t feel particularly maternal. And Ella has been through so much. I’m sure we only know a piece of it.
I try to remember her smiles and laughter in the pool. Tossing her in was an instinct. An idea that took root and I followed without questioning whether it was a good or bad decision. It was the only time I’ve seen her act her age. She’s either pretending like she’s a mini-adult, or she’s throwing temper tantrums like a toddler.
Okay, there was just one temper tantrum, but it was enough to last me a lifetime. And I'm sure there are more where that came from.
“You seem to feel better,” I tell him, eager for a change in subject.
“I feel better.” He tugs my arm, pulling me to a stop on the porch. “Thank you, Zoey. I really appreciate everything you did and are doing for me.”
His chocolate eyes are trying to make me soften, but I