Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,64

waiting for him to call it quits is just torture. He’s just stringing me along. I sit back and sigh. I don’t want it to be over. I want anything but that, really. I want a commitment. I want more with him.

And that’s my fault.

Facing him and asking for more is only going to leave me alone and brokenhearted even sooner. So my choices are:

Rip that band aid off, asking for more and having him end it like I know he will.

I can play along for a little while, but that only makes me more pathetic and it’s only going to hurt that much worse.

As I stand up, rolling my eyes, I throw the peel of the tangerine in the trash and shove each section in one by one.

Sarah, my immediate boss, sticks her head in the break room. She’s redheaded like me and big-boned, but she always dresses like she’s on an Italian runway. In short, she’s gorgeous. Today she’s wearing a black boat neck dress that looks like it cost a million dollars from the way it flatters her frame.

“Hey, Grace.” She’s cheery as always as she steps into the room.

“Hey,” I greet her with a forced smile. I shouldn’t feel bad for my afternoon break, everyone takes them. Still, I feel the need to defend myself. “I’m just on my way back to work.”

“Do you have a minute? Jack and I would like to talk to you in his office.”

I stare at her. Jack Holt is one of the partners at our firm. I’ve literally only talked to him at Christmas, when he’s handing out holiday bonus checks. My heartbeat picks up with anxiety at the thought of having a meeting with him.

I rack my brain to figure out what he could possibly want to talk to me about. A new project? But no, he isn’t usually involved on that level.

This is looking really, really bad. I swallow the lump in my throat, searching Sarah’s face for a clue, but there’s nothing there.

“Uhh… sure.” My forced smile falls but I do my best to keep it in place.

“It’s nothing bad. Stop looking like I’m taking you to see the grim reaper,” Sarah jokes and I laugh in return but only because it’s obligatory. “Come on.”

Does being fired count as bad? I wonder, trying to calm down. The last of my tangerine gets tossed in the trash and I follow Sarah across the main room where everybody works. Unlike me, most of the employees don’t put their heads down while they work, so a few eyes follow me across the room. I glimpse Diane trying to make eye contact with me, but I avoid it. I haven’t talked to her since the wedding… which she didn’t attend.

Sarah leads me to a corner office, where she pauses to knock on the door. I fidget, wiping my hands off on my shirt and trying to stay calm. Sarah wouldn’t lie to me.

“Come in,” Jack calls through the door and we enter, my legs feeling like jello. Sarah shuts the door behind me, increasing my paranoia that I’m about to be fired.

“Grace, hi,” Jack says, standing up from behind his large espresso desk that’s littered with paperwork. He’s in his fifties, well dressed, and tanned as a nut from long days on his yacht. “Please sit,” he gestures to one of two chairs in front of his desk.

I glance at Sarah and pick a chair. Sarah sits in the other one, crossing her legs and smiling. Jack settles himself back behind his desk, looking serious.

My heart thumps wildly. I’ve never been fired before. My hands are clammy and I try to think of something to say, but I don’t trust my voice.

“So Grace, I asked Sarah to recommend someone to run the project desk, keep the designers on task and make sure what they produce is in line with the clients’ branding. She recommended you.”

Blinking several times, all of them a little too fast, I stare at my boss for a second, processing his words, then look at Sarah. “She did?”

“Apparently you… let’s see here,” he says, picking up a piece of paper off his desk. He starts to read. “Quote - She works ten times harder than anyone else. If everyone was as dedicated to customer satisfaction and producing great artwork, we would be far more successful. You seem to have an eye for branding not just design.” The paper falls with a flutter as he adds, “There’s a critical