Page 17 of Objection to Love

“Should we have invited Miller, do you think?”

“Nah. She wouldn’t be willing to leave the office before seven at the latest.”

“She doesn’t seem to know how to turn off work and have some fun, does she?”

“Nope. Hopefully she figures it out before she burns out like Jenkins.”

The other conversation participant mumbled something in reply, but Em didn’t hear it. She closed the door and walked slowly back to her desk.

That couldn’t be what the whole office thought… right? They should appreciate and admire all of her hard work. And why would they assume she didn’t know how to have fun? They didn’t even know her.

And who was Jenkins?

Em chewed her lip, spinning her desk chair around to gaze out the window of her third-story office. It looked directly into a parking garage across the street. Something she’d never even noticed before. Seriously… had they just built that? Em could have sworn her window used to have a mountain view.

She sighed, leg bouncing. She didn’t want to be considered a failure to others. It was, possibly, the worst title she could be given. She'd been working her butt off for years to show she wasn’t a failure. Besides the fact that shedidlove her job, she had to prove to her parents and coworkers that she wasn’t too young to be working here. She wasn’t too young to be successful and valuable.

But her coworkers didn’t even value her enough to issue her an after-work invitation, whicheveryone elsehad received.

Well, everyone but Derek.

And Jenkins.

Who theheckis Jenkins??

Em tried to take a deep breath, but she felt like her world was spinning. Spinning more than this large leather office chair Em had always thought of as a representation of all her hard work. She’d gotten this job straight out of law school. Right after passing the bar. She’d thought she was doing so well. If things went according to plan, she could begin applying for a judgeship at the end of her ten-year plan. Maybe twelve years, but not longer.

But meanwhile, all the other prosecutors were talking about her like she was some kind of weirdo.

Em wasn’t a weirdo. She wassuccessful.

She glanced at the clock. 3:51. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she jumped out of her chair like it was on fire and slung her purse over her shoulder. She didn’t even grab her briefcase. She would show them all. Em could have fun. She wasn’t as attached to work as everyone thought. She had a life.

Pulling the door open, Em glanced at Stephanie as she breezed past her. “I’m leaving early, Stephanie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

If she wasn’t so busy recklessly abandoning her job an hour early—an hour and nine minutes early—she might have enjoyed the look of abject shock on Stephanie’s face.

But reckless she was, so she strode through the office without a care in the world.

Except for that one niggling concern that she probably shouldn’t leave her briefcase here. Should she go back?

No. That would ruin the effect.

Right?

Yes. Yes it would.

But that didn’t change the fact that it physically pained her to open her car door and slide inside without a bulky leather rectangle to place on the passenger seat.

Chapter 8

Em

Thetwenty-minutedrivehadbeen uneventful, but thanks to the old, and frankly depressing, Enya CD she’d dug out from her glovebox, Em was still feeling distractedly upset when she pulled into her driveway. So distracted that she didn’t even glance to see if Garrett was sitting on his porch swing.

She walked four steps from the car before realizing she’d left her keys in the ignition. Retracing her steps, she grabbed them and dropped them in her purse. Then she shut the car door again. It caught on her skirt.

---