Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“Do it. Use the downtime to hunt for another job. Unless you’re really okay with going back to work for this guy, forget about the pay. You should have some savings now, so if it doesn’t pay as much, oh well.”
“That’s a very Eliza solution,” I say glumly.
She’s good at grabbing life by the horns and shaking it around without getting smashed. I wish I was that bold.
That rock that’s been sitting in my throat starts choking me, and I blink back tears.
I realize how pathetic I must look moping around like this after a man I never truly had.
The hope that died earlier has turned to dust.
“You said his silence could mean anything, right?” I ask bitterly.
She nods, sipping her coffee. “It could. But if, by some miracle, he realizes he’s been a blockhead and comes crawling back, and you guys figure your crap out and live happily ever after...is it a good idea to keep working for him? That’s a ton of pressure.”
I sigh. “What if he ends the radio silence?”
She shakes her head like it’s obvious.
“Dakota, if he tries to get in touch, hear him out first—that is, if he starts with an apology. And make sure the talk happens on your terms. If you’re still his employee, it can’t be equal. Not when he controls your schedule and your income.”
I blink at her. “Maybe you should give up on coffee and become an advice columnist.”
“Not on your life. I love the bean too much. Now, are you ready for Dr. Brownie or what?”
I let her bring me one of those chocolate monsters and dig into it while I finish my coffee. Panic eating is surprisingly helpful today.
She packs up a few more treats for me to take home. I don’t argue because they’re decadent. Heartbreaks are always a sliver less awful with heaps of chocolate.
When I’m back in my apartment, I sit down in front of my laptop and stare at the screen. I open an email to Anna, close it, and reopen it.
What do I even say?
Dear Anna, I’m a slutty-slut-slut who slept with her boss and it ended badly, so can I have some time off to process this even if it has to be unpaid?
Yeah, guess how that’ll go over.
If I said I have mono, would she ask for a doctor’s note?
An informal text seems less daunting and humiliating than an email, I decide.
So I pick up my phone and hit her contact.
Anna, hi. Off the record, if I have mono for a week or two would you ask for a doctor’s note?
I get up to wash a few dishes and wipe down my stovetop before she replies about twenty minutes later.
Anna: Off the record, how about I give you administrative leave for workplace trauma from being threatened with bodily harm? I’m sure it qualifies after your boss and some lunatic came to blows in close proximity with a knife. I don’t see HR turning you down, if only to avoid a lawsuit. She sends a smiley face emoji and a heart for care.
Dakota: I won’t sue. Don’t worry.
Anna: Shhh! Don’t tell anyone that. God, I’m on your side here. Another smiley face emoji followed by a gif with two big furry monsters hugging. How are you holding up, anyway?
Dakota: Fine, considering the circumstances. Really. Thanks for helping me out with the leave. I’ll let you know in a couple days.
With that, I move to the couch, turn off the alarm on my phone, and switch on Netflix.
Time to chill, and not the kind that involves any moron with a penis.
Job surfing and life can wait.
After a few days of movie binging and pecking at poems with lines so depressing they could win an angst match against a teenager’s diary, I need to get out.
I’ll be back tomorrow, I text Anna.
Are you sure? she replies later.
I can’t stay home forever and I want to work. Whatever happened with the big boss shouldn’t keep me away from helping the main marketing push.
Anna: Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow then. Oh, and of course we’ve shelved those photos for now until we figure something out. So no worries about seeing them.
My throat knots. I’d half forgotten the pictures where Lincoln and I played at being newlyweds.
God, I hope I can live up to my word, keep my head down, and work without cracking.
The next day, I bike to work like the old days before—
Before.
I stop at Sweeter Grind and order two coffees and Regis rolls.
Just like before.
When I show up, I’ll have the bosshole’s order, a straight spine, squared shoulders, and a smile so effing bright it could blind the stars.
Lincoln Burns won’t get the satisfaction of a distraught, emotional mess. I’ll show him just how little power he has over my life.
...only, I find his office locked and the lights off when I show up.