Page 69 of My Boss

“I care about you, that’s why I didn’t want you to go.”

Geez, what a twisted line of reasoning. What does he mean?

“Only I wouldn’t have gone at all. I would have stayed with you,” I confess.

“Why?”

Okay, we’re getting onto shaky ground here. I bite my lip; I look at him. I follow the outline of his face and see a completely different Jan than the one I’ve been working with for the past year. It occurs to me that what is happening between us now is something more, something that usually takes years to happen. I feel a fluttering in my stomach. I have a goddamned butterfly in my stomach!

“I would have stayed with you because I think I like you,” I answer truthfully.

He squints his eyes.

“You just said you don’t like me. Intensely.”

I pout my lips.

“This was after you told me to do the damn report, and before what you have just told me.”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t understand women,” he emphasizes as if he really doesn’t understand them. And I have an overwhelming urge to make him talk. And not at all because I’m jealous of some other chicks who have been in his life.

“Do you have any specific women in mind or are you speaking in general?”

“Both.”

I guess I really learned what he means. Time for attack number two.

“It is rare to meet men of your age who are bachelors, in such a position and with such an appearance… You probably have a lot of female admirers.” Well, okay, I’ve tickled his ego a little, although Jan most likely knows his own worth well enough not to need such shallow compliments.

“I am not a bachelor, Maria.”

Good God! My heart stops. Fucking hell. Jan is married? I panic and glance at his hands, although I know perfectly well that he is not wearing a wedding ring. Apparently, he guesses my concern because he adds after a moment:

“I am divorced.”

Phew. Oh God, what a relief. I know it’s not the right holiday, but… Hallelujah!

Jan used to be married. I have a million questions in my head and I feel like they’re about to burn a hole in my frontal lobe if I don’t say them out loud.

“Do you keep in touch with your ex-wife?”

“No.”

Good answer.

“Have you been divorced long?”

“Six years.”

That is, he was thirty-two years old when he got divorced. That’s pretty fast, some people only decide to get married at that age.

“Irreconcilable differences?”

“Infidelity.” I open my eyes wide, but before I can accuse Jan in my mind of infidelity, he adds, “She was the one who cheated.”

I immediately recall his words, which take on a profound meaning:I would prefer you not be a woman who cheats on her man. I don’t tolerate infidelity.

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