Page 51 of Sincerely Not Yours

Just as she cursed that part of her, her phone dinged, stopping her heart. Gigi stared at the phone on the windowsill, not sure she wanted to see who was texting or what they had to say.

“If I pick you up and the text is from the phone company, thanking me for paying my bill, I’m going to throw you across the room,” she threatened the inanimate object.

A few breaths later, she gave in and reached for her phone, finding a text from Harris.

I want to give you space, but I also need you to know exactly what happened. I was wrong. I proposed to dissolve SheTime before I knew what I was talking about. But I promise you I fully believe in the business. I believe in you. You made that business, and you are the only one that can take it to the next level.

Please check your email. I sent you the proposal I made when I first got to Chicago. And I sent you my revised proposal. I want you to see them for yourself and make your own conclusions.

Then, if you want to talk to me afterward, please let me know when I can see you. Because I have a lot more to say, but I will only say the rest in person.

Sincerely & truly sorry for my boneheaded mistake,

Harris

Hurt, confusion, and the craziest bit of hope battled inside Gigi as she sat there, staring at her phone. She read his text again. And again. She considered throwing her phone across the room, but her arm wouldn’t follow through with it. And the longer she sat with his words, the more conflicted she got.

Blowing out a breath from the bottom of her lungs, Gigi dropped her phone to her lap. She remembered the pain and longing on his face as the elevator doors closed; how he’d run after her. Could reading the proposals help her understand his decisions? At the very least, it might give her some closure and understanding of her next steps.

Closing her eyes, Gigi breathed in and out, preparing herself for what she was about to do. Then she went to the kitchen and pulled her laptop from her tote bag, where she’d discarded it on the table. Sitting back down in the armchair, she covered herself with a blanket and opened her computer on her lap.

She fired up Outlook and saw Harris’s email at the top of her inbox. When she clicked it open, there were no words, just twoattachments. The first document was titled “Before Gigi.” The second was “After Gigi.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Gigi had stayed up far too late, reading through the proposals Harris had sent her. The first proposal, titled “Before Gigi,” was brutally cold and calculating. He’d outlined a plan to dissolve SheTime, citing underperformance and recommending layoffs, including Gigi’s termination. Pain and embarrassment pierced her when she saw her name reduced to a mere line item. The clinical language was harsh and blunt. Yet, as she examined the numbers and information Harris had, she could understand the conclusions he’d drawn.

She still couldn’t believe he’d recommended cutting an entire division, like it was a plant that wouldn’t flower. Instead of trying to understand why it wasn’t thriving, he wanted to pull it up by the roots and be done with it.

But when she read through his revised proposal, “After Gigi,” the difference was stark. He’d stressed SheTime’s potential,advising an increased marketing budget and dedicated team. But what shocked her the most was his suggestion of promoting her to Director, with back pay for being underpaid in her current position. In his summary, Harris said she could double the business in a year, if given the right support.

The revised proposal was not written by someone that saw her as expendable. Someone who believed in her wrote it. Even as she thought of it now, sitting in her Nonna’s apartment, overwhelmed tears filled her eyes.

“Gigi, mia bella, come make your plate. Dinner is ready,” her nonna’s sweet voice broke through Gigi’s thoughts, urging her to stand from the floral couch. After a slow morning, Gigi had gone down two floors, to her nonna’s apartment, trying her best to put on a happy face. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and they were spending the day together. Gigi cherished these moments and didn’t want them ruined by the dumpster fire that had taken over her mind.

But she hadn’t fooled her grandma. From the second Gigi arrived, Nonna knew something was wrong. When Gigi said she wasn’t ready to talk about it, Nonna started cooking.

Gigi joined Nonna at the kitchen counter, where she was cutting into her baked gnocchi with the edge of a serving spoon. Bacon, spinach, tomato, and mascarpone cheese were laced through the casserole. The aroma of garlic, basil, and rich tomato filled the apartment, offering comfort in the form of a grandmother’s love.

“Thank you,” Gigi said, holding a plate while her nonna filled it. “This looks absolutely delicious.”

Nonna smiled, loading up the second plate. “Sit, eat. Let’s enjoy.”

Gigi carried both their plates to the table, setting them between silverware and tall, cold glasses of milk. Gigi sank into achair and reached for her nonna’s hand. They bowed their heads and said a thankful prayer, as they did before each meal.

Taking her first bite, Gigi moaned in appreciation, thinking her nonna was right again. Food made everything better, especially homemade gnocchi and warm, gooey mascarpone cheese. “This is incredible,” she said, licking sauce from her bottom lip.

“I’m glad you like it,” Nonna replied, but she was quiet for a few beats, and Gigi felt her eyes boring into the side of her head. When Gigi looked up, Nonna asked, “Are you ready to tell me what’s troubling you?”

Gigi swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready, but also wondered if her nonna had sprinkled truth serum over the gnocchi—because the entire story spilled out. The night they lost and found Rudy. How Harris had kissed her and confessed he was falling for her. His plan to dissolve SheTime, and the revised proposal she’d just read.

Her nonna listened intently, nodding occasionally. When Gigi finished, she took her hand. The warm touch prompting Gigi to share more.

“I’m just—” Gigi confessed, resting her forehead in her other hand. “I’m so confused.”

Her nonna squeezed her fingers, keeping hold until Gigi turned her head to look at her. “Mia bella, I’m going to tell you something I learned over forty years of marriage. It may not be what you want to hear, but it may also save you a lot of heartache.”

Gigi stared at her, not sure what to expect but trusting her nonna completely. She nodded, wondering if her nonna would tell her to cut Harris off and run the other way. Could she ever look at him again if that was the advice?

---