The Boss Upstairs - Roya Carmen Page 0,13

and although I hadn’t realized it until now, I do miss it. I miss feeling like a woman, being a sexual being.

I miss sex.

I’m busy brainstorming, scribbling down ideas. I’m on a high. I’m jittery, practically bouncing off the walls. I tend to get like this when I’m excited, like I’ve just had three cups of espresso. Mr. Boss Man seems to find it funny as we repeatedly pass each other and skirt around each other. Lucky for me, he walks right by my desk every time he leaves his office, and I get to check out his spectacular behind.

He stops by my desk with a stack of papers. “Would you mind typing up these notes,” he asks. “My writing’s relatively legible. You shouldn’t have a problem.”

Despite the fact that I’m smack in the middle of concept designs, I smile and obediently accept the stack of papers.

“Thank you,” he says. “I love how much energy you have.”

I blush like the compliment-starved little tramp that I am.

“You’re like a…” He pauses for a second. “A grasshopper, hopping and bouncing around,” he teases. “It’s quite endearing.”

I consider telling him all about my mild ADHD, but think better of it. He doesn’t need to know about my psychological issues. He might think I can’t get the job done. “That’s me. Your little grasshopper. At your service.”

He smiles. “Well, keep hopping, Grasshopper.”

And then he’s gone, just like that. He swoops in, kicks my heart into overdrive, and then leaves me breathless. And he keeps doing it.

I grin like an idiot, and I’m glad there’s no one else here to see the silly expression on my face.

I read Ethan his bedtime story and stroke his hair until he falls asleep in his new big-boy bed. This is always my favorite part of the day. The worse part is leaving him in the morning.

I catch up on a little reading, and check my social media and email. I’m surprised when I see a message from Mr. Boss Man in my Inbox. Of course I devour it.

Hello, Gretchen,

Hope you are well, and not too tired from the day. I’ve tried to go easy on you. Please let me know if I’m working you too hard. :)

I just wanted to make sure you knew your work day is flexible. Given your life circumstances, I would fully understand if you need to occasionally excuse yourself, or be tardy in the morning, or possibly leave early.

I remember the stresses of having a two-year old. Thankfully, I had a spouse and full-time nanny to share the duties, and I still found it challenging at times.

I know you have the energy to handle it all, but I wouldn’t want you to unnecessarily exhaust yourself. Physical and emotional health is important, especially when you’re a mother.

Best,

Weston

I read it again and again, a smile on my face. It may possibly be the kindest, sweetest email I’ve ever received. I have the most thoughtful boss on the planet.

My heart hammers as I type a reply.

Hello Weston… Mr. Hanson… Boss Man… Weston,

Thank you so much for the email. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness. Of course, I plan to be as available to you as much as I can. For anything you need… and I mean anything! But it’s nice to know I have the freedom to address possible issues and emergencies at home when needed. It means a lot.

Thank you so much!

See you tomorrow!

Gretchen… Your grasshopper ;)… Gretchen

I check it over about five times to make sure it’s perfect, and hit Send, my stomach full of butterflies.

I barely see Mr. Boss Man today, which is a good thing because I need to focus on my work. I’ve finally managed to sync my laptop to the office printer/scanner, which is thankfully top-of-the-line, better than the one I have at home.

I’ve slaved over my laptop all day, my hand dancing over my pink mouse, playing around with different ideas and designs. I need to give them at least three options to start, and if they don’t like them, I go back to the drawing board.

Every two hours or so, I stand to stretch and have a snack, usually a granola bar or an apple, and occasionally a hand full of Skittles from the bowl on my desk. I make sure to also pause often and stretch my neck. I take the opportunity to look at the photos on my desk, a picture of Ethan, and one of Donovan. I debated bringing the photo of Donovan, but he sits

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