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“No. You were right. It’s better this way. Now I can finally move on with my life.”

For so long, I’d been asleep. I’d had this dream of being with Emerson, and even when I was awake, I was living inside that dream. Now, though, it was like the bubble had popped. My feelings for him felt sharp and jagged, tearing at my insides, but through it all, my eyes were finally open.

Emerson was not mine, and he never would be.

Oh, and also, I no longer had a job, so that was bad. Fuck.

The whole way home, my emotions played a tug-of-war inside my chest, waffling between regret, anger, and cool, crisp relief. I had no idea where I would be tomorrow—likely applying for jobs—but one thing I knew for certain was that at least I wouldn’t be mooning over my stupid sexy boss.

As distracted as I was, I forgot that I’d been avoiding my neighbor, so instead of tiptoeing past her door on the way to my apartment, I was stomping. Just as I passed her door, it creaked open, light spilling into the hallway.

I panicked and bolted for my door. “Not so fast,” she called after me in her no-nonsense tone. “Get your ass in here.”

I deflated even further, turning to look over my shoulder at her. “Can we not do this today? I just quit my job.”

Her eyebrows hiked halfway up her forehead, doubling the creases in her skin. “But you love your job.”

I sighed, my eyes burning with the threat of tears. Great, as if I hadn’t cried enough already. “It wasn’t the job I loved,” I whispered raggedly. It was my boss.

She nodded once then stepped back. I thought that meant she was going to just let me get on with my wallowing, but she waved a hand to usher me inside. “Come on. Drinks are on me.”

“Do you mean tea?” I asked, stepping into her apartment, as familiar to me as my own home. I hated to admit, it made me feel just a tiny bit better.

She scoffed, closing the apartment door behind me. “Tea is for losers. Scotch will put hair on your chest.” She pulled open her cabinet and pointed up to the bottle on the top shelf. “Be a dear and grab that for me, would you?”

I did as she asked and brought the bottle down, then poured a tiny amount in the glasses she set out. She speared me with a look and tipped the bottle further until the glass in front of me was far too full.

“Cheers,” she said, tapping her glass to mine. “To new beginnings.”

“Right. To new…” I couldn’t even say it. I didn’t want a new beginning when I didn’t see anything wrong with the old one. I brought the glass to my lips, the fumes burning my eyes. Forcing myself to take a small sip, I grimaced at the burn and set the scotch aside. “I’m not really much of a drinker,” I explained.

“Neither am I, but sometimes, a situation calls for it, and I get the impression this is one of those times.”

She nudged the drink back my way, but I shook my head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to fix this.”

I hated the look of pity she gave me. “Honey, why did you quit your job?”

“I’m in love with my boss, and he loves me, but he’s getting married to someone else anyway.” Even as I choked on a laugh, the tears pooled again; I promised myself they would be the last tears I shed over him. Before she could give me some kind of advice about how I should let him go, good riddance, I added, “And I’m pretty sure the bride-to-be is blackmailing him into it.”

Blinking, she tipped her glass back, draining it in one go. “Well… that certainly is a bit of a pickle.” Then she reached across the counter and took my untouched glass, throwing that one back as well. She didn’t even wince. “It’s no wonder you weren’t interested in my grandson.”

“I’m sorry, Collette. Alan is very nice. He just isn’t Emerson.”

She waved away my apology. “The heart wants what the heart wants. No apology necessary.” She pursed her lips in thought, then reached for the bottle and poured herself one more shot. “So… what are we going to do about this bitch? You’re not going to just let her take your man, are you?”

“I—I mean… what other choice do I have?”

Her grin was full of wicked intent. “Why, honey, you fight fire with fire, of course.”

12

Emerson

I was the boss. By default, that meant that I had to be the hard-ass sometimes. I couldn’t laugh and joke around with my staff, try to be their friend. If I showed any sign of weakness, it would leave me vulnerable to being stepped on. I had to keep a stern and serious demeanor, and when they did something wrong, I had to handle it, either teach them how to do it properly in the future or admonish their behavior, even fire someone if it was called for. Because of this, I would never be their favorite person, and I was fine with that. I expected it, even.

Now, however, things had gotten much, much worse. In their eyes, I was no longer their boss—I was the villain.

As I strode down the hall toward housekeeping, I heard whispering behind me. I spun around and caught Benny and Joseph having an intense gossip session, while staring directly at me. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that I was the topic of conversation. Benny actually sneered at me!

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