Page 66 of Desserts for Stressed People

Once I was visiting my grandma over the summer, and I got so drunk that I vomited on her while she slept. And she didn’t wake up. #ProjectileVomit #TheExorcistRippedMeOff

Shane:

Damn. And here I thought my poop story was unbeatable.

The sweet awareness that I won settles in my chest. Even when it comes to humiliating myself, I’m a competitive mess.

The three dots indicate he’s typing, and I start thinking of the next horrible thing to share. After all, this promises to be a much better Sunday than I envisioned.

Chapter17

A Week as Enemies

When I wakeup on Monday, I don’t feel ready to face it all. To face Shane. He has yet to answer any of my emails, and I’m pretty sure he’ll continue the silent treatment. So I email the team, letting them know I’m working from home today. I know it’ll slow things down a little, but cry me a freaking river. I’m a coward.

A spoiled one at that, because I’m already annoyed that today I won’t start my morning with one of Shane’s pastries. But I try to make myself feel better with a frozen croissant. I throw it in the oven, fill a glass with orange juice, then grab a couple of slices of bread to spread Nutella on. This would have been a fancy breakfast for me a month ago, but I guess anyone would change their mind if a gorgeous, inscrutable man had been serving them pastries for breakfast for a while.

“No work today?”

I turn to Alex, who’s wearing a dark blue suit. Not the same dark blue as Shane, and in any case, it doesn’t look as good on him. “I’m working from home.”

He fixes the sleeves of his jacket, throwing me a stern look. “Thank you. It makes me much more comfortable.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Your crush. I’m happy if you stay away from that guy.”

Unbelievable.

“I am not staying away from Shane. And whether you’re comfortable or not isn’t my concern. I’m working from home today, and I’ll be back at the office tomorrow.” I turn around before he says anything else, releasing a deep breath only when the front door closes behind him.

* * *

Tuesday goes somewhat similarly.I wake up intending to go to work, but I give up before breakfast. I still don’t have it in me.

I’m back to the office on Wednesday, and immediately walk to my desk. It’s empty, of course. I didn’t expect there’d be a dessert waiting for me, but my stomach clenches anyway. The door to my office opens, and I don’t have time to get scared, because I immediately notice Marina.

“Fourth Floor, you’re back. We thought you two had eloped.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, sitting at my desk. Is she talking about Shane?

“Mr. Hassholm is gone. You were gone too. We figured you were together.”

I swallow, my cheeks heating up. “I don’t know why you’d think that.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been flirting for weeks.”

“We haven’t been—”

“Yes, you have,” she interjects. “It makesnosense. You’re the least attractive person on this floor.” When I gape at her, she shrugs. “What? You’re also smarter than most of them.”

I turn my chair to the desk. “Is there anything you need, Marina?”

“The clients are thrilled with the centerpieces. Therese asked Mr. Hassholm to let you know. Now you know.”

She slips out of the door and disappears—I’m surprised she doesn’t leave a little puff of smoke behind her like a cartoon. And I’m left looking at the white, barren wall.

Shane has been getting my emails. He has been communicating with the clients too. He’s deliberately not responding tome.

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