Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair

Chapter Seventeen

Zoey

This is a mistake.

You’re going to regret this.

As I walk through the doors of Morgan-Beckwith that afternoon, I wonder if there are any clichés I’ve missed, working my way through my mental rolodex.

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

You’ll rue the day!

Okay, maybe not so extreme. Then again, I’m walking into my office to finally resign. But only after I signed a contract with Gavin to be Ella’s nanny for the weekend, with a contingency for more time, depending on how things go. Then it’s home to pack and go meet his parents at their family ranch. Meanwhile, Gavin is alone at his house with a daughter he’s known for fewer hours than the amount of time he’s been fever-free.

Oh, and did I mention that I didn’t tell Gavin yet I’m resigning at Morgan-Beckwith? I’m leaving him a letter on his desk, like the coward I am.

The irony isn’t lost on me that just as he finally won’t be my boss again, I signed a contract to make him my boss in another capacity.

I’m not sure which choices I’ve made are most questionable, but on a scale of one to completely ridiculous, I’m not even on the chart. I’m like a tiny speck in the distance because I’ve been shot out of a cannon straight to Crazytown.

When I walk into Annette’s office in HR and hand her my letter, she blinks up at me in surprise as she reads. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Do you have another job lined up?”

There’s the kicker. I have interviews. No job. Emphasis on the yet. But I figure if I’m going to help Gavin with Ella, it’s not like I can take on full-time work now anyway. She’s more important. And I just can’t walk into this office anymore. Today feels like a walk of shame in the worst way. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes, like if I do, they’ll somehow know that last night, I was in Gavin’s bed. Not like that, but still.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell Annette. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Anything in particular you want to talk about?” Annette asks.

“There are multiple reasons for this, but I will say that I think this place needs a complete overhaul of its corporate culture. Working here feels like being chum tossed into shark-infested waters.”

This is probably the most honest I’ve ever been within these walls, and it feels so good not to hold back a single thing. Man, maybe I should have done this earlier.

Annette sputters. “Wow. I … had no idea you felt that way.”

I get to my feet. I need to get out of here and get packed to meet Gavin. “It shouldn’t be all that surprising. I’m sure you didn’t miss the Zoey-Bot remarks. Or the drawings in the break room. Or my cake.”

Annette’s cheeks flush, and she has the decency to look apologetic. “Uh, yes. I might have heard something about that.”

“I’m heading out for the rest of the day. I can fill out any paperwork when I get back.”

Here’s the secret: I gave my two weeks’ notice, but I don’t plan to come back to the office after today. As I’m making my way to my desk to clean out the few personal items I have, Roxana appears, like she’s been waiting behind the potted ferns to pounce.

“I thought you were sick,” Roxana says. “Nice black eye, by the way.”

“Thanks. You should see the other guy.”

Why did it take me quitting to release my tongue? I had no idea how empowering it would be not to hold so much back. Roxana’s face is priceless.

“Gavin and Nancy are the sick ones. So far, I’ve been spared.” I’ve been knocking back those immune support tablets that fizz and dissolve in water, hoping their anti-sick thingies do their job to make the disgusting taste worthwhile.

“You should probably keep your distance though, just in case.” I fake a cough, aiming it Roxana’s way. Mature? Nope. But I’m a woman with nothing to lose, and I’ve been on the receiving end of her ire for long enough. Abby would be proud.

“Are you in a hurry?” Roxana asks.

“I’m headed out of town.”

“Oh, really? That sounds intriguing. Going with anyone special? Maybe with someone who’s ‘sick’?”

The air quotes make me snort. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Wow. Someone’s in a mood this morning. PMS?”

I slam my desk drawer with a bit more force than necessary and plant my palms flat on the desk to give Roxana my death glare. “Maybe I just don’t like you and I’m not in the mood to listen to your passive-aggressive digs. Why do you have to bring hormones into it? You’d think by now women would be the ones to stop making period jokes.”

Roxana follows me to Nancy’s desk. The woman is harder to remove than a tick. Just as nasty too. At least my comments have rendered her temporarily speechless. When I retrieve the keys from Nancy’s top drawer and unlock Gavin’s door, Roxana’s brows hit her hairline.

“Making a special home delivery? Or is Gavin part of your weekend plans?”

I ignore her for the moment, placing the second 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 knowthe 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 need to keep pumping the brakes.

“I’m also sorry I ruined your birthday,” Gavin says. “I didn’t realize I was feverish when I showed up to mini golf. My mind was in a fog. I feel like you’ve seen me at my worst.”

The thing is, I didn’t mind. The date part was a mess. Most of it, anyway. Parts of it felt like a real date, one I enjoyed. The ending? Not so much. I didn’t even mind taking care of him afterward. It was nice seeing the vulnerable side to him. To feel needed.

Gavin lifts a hand and I flinch slightly until he traces the edge of the bruise on my face. “I’m sorry for falling on you. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

Maybe that’s true, but I’m fully aware that I’m probably not going to get out of this thing without being hurt. It’s just not possible.

I step back. Gavin’s hand falls and clutches in a fist at his side.

“My bags are in the car,” I tell him. “Are we leaving soon?”

“Ten minutes,” he says. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. I’ll go get Ella. That’s what I’m here for.”

And with my chest aching and burning like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of lava, I walk inside and leave Gavin on the porch.