Page 58 of Desserts for Stressed People

Ignoring his displeased tone—he has no right not to like Emma—I try to get my tongue to move, words to come out of my mouth. “No. No, it’s—my boss.”

His head tilts. “Billy?”

I swallow. “No, the new boss.”

“What happened to Billy?”

My arms cross over my stomach, anger quickly squeezing my chest. “I told you I’ve joined a new team. Events?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, his eyes squinting like he doesn’t remember. “Why is he here?”

I fidget with the trim of my shirt. “I met him, and—we got coffee, but I spilled his on him so, I—he’s cleaning up.”

God, I sound so guilty.

His brows furrow, likely wondering why I am so flustered. It’s not like I’m worried about his reaction—I couldn’t care less about it, to be honest. But I can’t have him make a scene in front of Shane. Nor can I fathom how he’ll react when he sees Alex. He just asked me out, and I never told him I have a boyfriend.

“Why are you—” Alex spins around when Shane comes out of the restroom.

Straightening his stained shirt, Shane glances at him, then at me. “Hi,” he says, and he sounds as confused as he looks.

Alex walks to him, my stomach clenching hard as their hands meet. I guess my obsession with cleanliness also applies to someone’s soul, and Alex’s soul is filthy. I don’t want him to taint Shane with his horribleness.

“Nice to meet you. Alex.”

“Shane Hassholm.”

Shane’s gaze darts to me, and Alex must notice it, because he walks closer and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Heaven tells me things are going well with your project.”

I never told him that, but I keep my gaze to the floor, only stealing looks at Shane. The beats of my heart are so loud in my ears I can barely hear the conversation taking place.

Shane’s brows hunch over his eyes, the beautiful lips I dream about kissing pulled into an unforgiving line. “Yes. Heaven has been a great addition to the team. Sorry we’re overworking her.”

He sounds so cold. So professional. So Mr. Hassholm.

“She’s a hard worker.” Alex affectionately kisses the side of my head, my whole body stiffening. He’s pretending to be proud of me, but he’s clearly just making a statement. That I’m his girlfriend. “Were you at the seminar too?”

Oh...fuck. The lie I told Alex about where I have been for the past week. I can almost feel the blood flow stopping in my veins. My heart does too—something between not beating at all and much too fast. And Shane’s face...God, his face. Shock takes over his beautiful eyes for a matter of seconds, then he nods.

“Yes...yes, I was at the seminar too. The whole team was.”

I wiggle out of Alex’s hold as casually as I can and force myself to speak. I’d like to apologize, to explain. God knows what this must look like to him. Instead, in a weak voice, I say, “Your shirt—Can I...” I don’t know what I’m offering. I can’t wash it for him, he doesn’t have another one. And I can’t pay for the dry cleaning because it’s a t-shirt. He’ll toss it in the washing machine. Nor can I offer him one of my boyfriend’s shirts, obviously.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a stain,” he says through gritted teeth.

We stare at each other. There’s plenty I’d like to say—from the looks of it, he has a few words he’d like to tell me too. Unkind ones.

“Was it hot coffee? Did my girlfriend maim you?” Alex asks.

How fucking cringy. He said it, like the show he’s been putting on wasn’t transparent enough.

Shane pats his shirt. “No. It was me. I’m really clumsy. There’s no damage, though.”

“I thought you said you spilled your coffee on him.” Alex sets his accusatory gaze on me.

“Oh, well. I was trying to be—hmm, chivalrous.” Shane smiles stiffly. “I didn’t want to...”

“He didn’t want to embarrass me.” I try to swallow away my nervous tension. “Thank you, Mr. Hassholm. And I’m sorry again for the shirt.”

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