Page 13 of Sincerely Not Yours

Gigi chuckled quietly as she wrapped up the email, but before she sent it, she played around with her signature. She erased “Sincerely,” and replaced it with:

If you have any questions, please ask someone else,

Gigi

This made her laugh out loud. Sometimes, when she was frustrated, she would type up an email expressing what shereallywanted to say. She never sent it. It just made her feel better to get a little snark off her chest. But before she could correct her signature, Jeremiah walked up behind her.

“Have you seen the new Netflix documentary where the kidnapper lures his victims into his van with the promise of free margaritas, chips, and guac?”

Gigi moved her mouse, intending to minimize her email so Jeremiah didn’t read her snarky signature over her shoulder. He was the biggest office gossip. Though Jeremiah had great taste in murder mysteries, and that sounded like something Gigi needed to watch.

“I haven’t, but I—” She clicked her mouse and the whoosh sound that followed knocked her stomach to the floor. “I didnotjust do that.” But she had. She’d accidentally emailed Harris before correcting her signature. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Well, you should watch it,” Jeremiah continued, unaware of the colossal mistake Gigi had just made. “It’s amazing what people will do for a free margarita and guac. Plus, the twist at the end will throw you for a loop. I didn’t see it coming at all.”

Panic rising, Gigi stood, pushing her chair out from under her. “Hold that thought.” She left Jeremiah and ran for the elevator, not sure what she should do. Harris didn’t seem to have a funny bone in his body. He would not read her email and then chuckle at her signature like she’d made a hilarious knock-knock joke. This morning confirmed they didn’t see eye to eye, and Gigi was getting the feeling he was searching for reasons to call her out. This would definitely give him a reason.

It was one thing to make Harris uncomfortable while still elevating sales and social reach. But blatantly disrespecting her new boss in writing? That wouldn’t go over well. As she impatiently waited for the elevator to reach the tenth floor, Gigi pictured Harris scowling at his computer before forwarding the email straight to HR.

How was she going to explain this?

Getting off the elevator and nearing his office, Gigi wondered if she could blame her signature on dictation. At least, that was somewhat believable. She could say she was dictating the email and her computer picked up on a conversation in the next cubicle. She didn’t realize the mistake until she hit send. Then she could laugh about it, even if Harris didn’t crack a smile.

You need to be extra careful when speaking your truth in an email,she scolded herself.

Harris’s door was halfway open. She knocked and stepped in. “Harris? Can I talk to you for a second?”

He was at his desk, though he wasn’t looking at his computer. Instead, his chair was rotated and tipped back. He had one leg crossed over the other and was staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling windows into the abyss of Chicago. He slowly turned his head toward her, but didn’t offer a greeting.

Had he read her email? Was he stewing over ways to reprimand her?

“I just wanted to explain the email I just sent,” she said, nerves prickling her insides. “I didn’t mean the signature I put at the bottom. I—”

He put one finger to his mouth and shushed her.

Gigi stood there, bewildered. She blinked at him, her mouth going slightly agape, trying to process what had just happened. Was this some new power move? Had he seriously just shushed her?

Harris slowly rotated toward her, his expression shifting from stern to conspiratorial. Without saying a word, he crooked a finger, gesturing for Gigi to come close. Suspiciously, she approached his desk. As she neared, Harris’s stern exterior softened.

“I was just going to call you,” he spoke softly. “I was hoping you could help me with something.” Tugging on the lapel of his sport coat, he eased it away from his chest. Gigi’s confusion deepened. What was he doing? Was he going to yank a pink slip out of a hidden pocket?

But Gigi stilled when she saw what was hidden under his jacket. She tilted her head to get a better look and make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Curled up on Harris’s chest was a tiny, fluffy, orange . . . sleeping kitten.

Gigi sucked in a breath. “You have a kitten?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

Harris kept his gaze on the fluffball. “He’s not mine. I found him on the way to lunch. He was in a bush next to the Thai place, screaming his lungs out. I wasn’t sure what to do with him, but I couldn’t leave him out there in the cold, so I brought him back to the office. Just cleaned him up and got him to eat a little something. I wasn’t sure what to get, but grabbed a can of tuna at the corner market.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, shocked. Gigi had nearly tripped over her own feet getting to Harris’s office, and this was the last thing she expected to find.

Harris nodded toward the edge of his desk. A dirty hand towel was folded up next to a small paper plate with a lump of canned tuna. “I put him in my jacket to warm him up and he fell asleep. I was trying not to wake him. Wanted to let him sleep.”

Harris’s gaze connected with hers, evaporating Gigi’s panic and all thoughts of the email.

“You shushed me for a kitten,” she said, confirming the fact for herself.

“I figured the poor thing needs some rest.” He quirked a smile and Gigi’s disdain for Harris melted—a little. He was harboring a stray kitten in his jacket. How could her heart not soften for him? At least this showed a bit of humanity. He wasn’t one hundred percent a grump. Maybe just ninety-eight percent? She straightened her face, not wanting Harris to catch her train of thought.

“You said you really like cats. I was hoping you could help me get supplies for him?” Harris asked, throwing Gigi for another loop.

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