while typing, he didn’t feel compelled to sit on the keys. All he wanted was to receive pleasure.
“Today is going to be a good day,” she said as she stroked his chin. “I sent Casey the detailed proposal. I gave Hadley a list of tips for her site. And I reviewed Paisley’s presentation for her upcoming conference. And you know what? I’m going to keep kicking butt when I meet with Isaac and tell him I’m dating the CEO.” She laughed, then her laughter ceased. “Sounds weird, doesn’t it?”
He purred, louder and louder.
Hmm. The thought was surreal to Bruce—that she could elicit such ferocious purrs, such a powerful reaction from him.
What was that all about?
Did he want to be this cat?
A cat who liked a human?
A cat who relished companionship?
“Huh.”
He turned in her direction as she made a noise.
“Do I want to be this person?” she asked again.
He tilted his head.
“That’s the question, isn’t it, Bruce? Do I want to be someone who dates the CEO?”
Her voice, it had grown on him. It soothed him. Made him feel . . . understood.
“Or do I want to . . . be the CEO?”
She stayed still, as if lost in thought.
She shut her computer, leaned closer, and dropped a kiss to Bruce’s head. “I’ll see you later, Bruce.”
When she left, he curled up in a ray of sunshine, content at last.
For so long, he’d tried to be one thing—a member of the cat resistance. But he knew what he was. He was one of the fallen.
Bruce had fallen for a human.
And he was as happy as a sunbathing cat.
32
Bryn
As I leave my apartment, I call Teagan. “Can you meet me at the coffee shop before work? It’s a friend-mergency.”
“Does that mean I can order anything I want?”
“Obviously.”
I walk toward the office, soaking in the sunshine, absorbing the sounds of the city, drinking in all that Manhattan has to offer. As my shoes click-clack on the sidewalk, I think of my mother’s advice in all its myriad forms.
Her sassy little sayings, like If looks could kill, women wouldn’t need frying pans. The more straightforward ones, like Go big or go home. The adages delivered at a roadside diner, like Don’t let anyone stand in the way of your dreams, your dream jobs, or your sweet dreams.
There were others as well—anthemic ones about not needing a man.
She was right there too. As I walk through the city on my way to work—to a job I earned, a job I love—I realize something powerful.
Something true.
I don’t need a man.
I absolutely don’t.
But I want one.
I want one man.
And I want to be under that man at night, in the kitchen or in his bedroom.
But I don’t want to be a woman who works under that man.
That’s not because of him. And it’s not because I’m worried that others will see me as less powerful, or that my identity is tied up in what my team thinks of me.
This choice is mine. It’s about what I want.
I don’t want to work under any man, or any woman, or anyone.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
When I see Teagan waiting in the coffee shop with two lattes, I march up to her, grin, and say, “I have this crazy idea that I need to run past my best friend in the whole world.”
“All ideas must receive the friendship stamp of approval. So lay it on me.”
As I drink the latte, I tell her, and she practically shakes pom-poms and does cartwheels.
Then, I go into the office and straight to see Isaac, giving him my two weeks’ notice.
33
Bryn
Isaac sighs heavily but smiles. “We’re going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you.”
He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together. “I knew it was only a matter of time. You were never ours to keep.”
I laugh softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“And I know you are going to do big things.”
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, draw a breath, then tell him one more thing. The hard thing. “Also, since I don’t want you to hear this from anyone else, I’m dating Mr. Clarke.”
“Oh.” He sounds shocked.
But it’s not as difficult a thing to say after all—because it’s true, and because everything about this moment feels right. All of this. “It started before he bought the company. Before either of us knew who the other one was. And that’s what our meeting with you today was going to be about. To let you know. But I guess we don’t