Page 78 of All's Well that Friends Well

“Well, start thinking differently,” he says. “You’re my senior vice president.”

I glance quickly at the wall of windows and my closed door, but it’s stupid; of course no one can hear us.

I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone here my position in the company. It’s just one more layer of complexity I haven’t wanted to add to an already iffysituation.

“I need to know that you can play ball, kid,” Rod goes on, his voice still gruff but quieter now. “You do things your own way, and that’s fine. But I need to know that you can work well with other people when it’s necessary. You’re not a teenager anymore. This is a skill you need to have.”

And it’s possible that I’ve never felt as dumb, as ashamed, as I do right now—hearing this man I admire tell me I need to grow up, when I’m already in my thirties.

Crap.

“Just think about it,” he grunts, pulling my attention away from my sinking heart. Then he juts his chin at me. “Now tell me—what’s going on with you?”

I clear my throat, my hands flexing on the arms of my chair. Then I make myself speak. “I kissed her. Juliet.”

After the conversation we’ve just had, it’s a relief to talk about something different. And if I weren’t so nervous, so tangled up in feelings that still don’t make sense, I’d laugh at Rodney’s response. I don’t remember the last time I saw shock like this on his face. His eyes go comically wide, his jowls wobbling as his jaw drops.

So I nod. I can feel the heat rising in my neck, even causing my ears to burn, and my voice is still gruff as I go on. “We kissed. And while we don’t currently have plans to enter into a romantic relationship, she will be starting as my assistant on Monday.” I pause. “Which is why I’m informing you of this development, of course.”

Rodney has found his composure once more; he leans forward, his back stooped as he narrows his eyes on me. “What do you mean, you have no plans to enter a relationship? Why not?”

My grip on the handles of my chair loosens as I blink at him. Why does he soundangry?

“Because it would be completely inappropriate,” I say, frowning at him.

“Technically, she won’t report to you,” he says, his lips tugging down further. “She won’t be in your chain of command. She’ll be in mine.”

I try again. “Fine. But she and I?—”

“Oh, shut up,” Rod snaps. He slumps back on the couch, looking disgusted. “Date that girl. Marry her. Be like everyone else. Stop wallowing.”

Now it’s my jaw that drops. I can’t even find words to say—not as his words swirl around in my brain, blazing trails everywhere they go.

“Shut your mouth,” he snaps at me when I’ve been gaping for several seconds. “You look like a fish.”

I shut my mouth. “I’m not going to—I can’t?—”

“I don’t see why not,” Rod cuts in.

“So many reasons.” My brain is finally catching up. “Our ages, for one. Our jobs. Her—” I falter and try again. “My?—”

“Excuses,” Rod says, waving one arthritic hand. “Nothing but excuses. You’re running scared.” He raises his bushy brow at me, waiting for me to disagree, but I don’t.

I’m not sure I can.

But admitting I’m scared doesn’t magically make the fear go away.

A sigh shudders out of me as I lean back in my chair. I pull my glasses off, because I’m starting to get a headache; then I speak again. “She’s perfect, Rodney. She’s—” I swallow, thinking of my attempts to set boundaries in the conference room earlier—thinking too of the conversation we had after we kissed. “She’s a pain in the butt. But she’s also perfect.”

My mind, most unhelpfully, starts filling inother adjectives. She’s strong, tenacious, playful, dignified. She’s infinitely positive. She fights her own demons—something horribly painful jabs at my insides remembering the things she told me—and she does it with grace, and—and?—

And good grief. The realization blooms with disbelief in my chest.

I think I mightlikeher.

I shake my head and speak. “She should be with some perfect suburban man, living in a house with a white picket fence.”

“So buy a house with a fence,” Rodney barks at me. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get a move on.” His eyes narrow on me, and a shiver of foreboding trickles down my spine—because somehow I know that his next words are going to hurt.

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