Page 27 of My Ex for Christmas
With a sigh, I turn toward Brooks, who stands on the last of the steps leading up to his apartment from the bar. “I’m trying to send a message to Mr. Oliveira, but the service is terrible.”
He crosses the room to stand beside me, facing the window. “That tends to happen when the snow starts coming down real good.”
And it has. It’s been snowing off and on—mostlyon—for the past couple hours. With no snow plow in sight, I’m not hopeful I’ll be getting back up the mountain anytime soon.
“Great,” I deadpan.
Laughing, he says, “I doubt you’ll get fired for missing one day.”
I roll my eyes as I shove my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants. Well,hissweatpants. I’m still wearing his clothes, and I hate myself a little for it. Because the only reason is so I can be surrounded by his scent.
“I’m not worried about gettingfired. I have so much work to do. We still don’t have a manager for the resort, so I’ve taken on all those responsibilities on top of interviewing new candidates. Taking today off is going to set me back.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. I worry he’s going to try and offer me some kind of stupid cure for my stress, like just not worrying because I can’t change anything. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
“How did you start working for Thiago?” he asks.
My shoulders relax as I sigh, relieved. This is easy. I can talk about this. And I’m sure that was his plan—to distract me.
“When I was in school in Brazil, I had the opportunity to take on an internship. I’m still not sure how, but I managed to get one at Engenica Cybersecurity, his company,” I explain. “Then it transitioned to a permanent role after I graduated. I’ve been working for him ever since.”
“What do you do? Besides be kickass at your job,” he adds.
I roll my eyes but smile. “I’m his assistant. I do whatever he needs me to do. Schedule meetings with investors, book flights, coordinate hotel stays. You name it, I’ve probably done it.”
“And being his assistant…” He studies me, and God, I feel naked all over again. “That makes you happy?”
Okay, not where I was expecting this conversation to go.
I recoil, a frown marring my features. “What do you mean? I’m good at my job.”
He nods. “I know you are, Hads. Of course you are, but that’s not what I asked. Does it make youhappy?”
Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself that question.
Does it make me happy?
If I examine that too closely, I’m afraid of what I might find. And although I know he isn’t asking out of judgment, only pure curiosity and a genuine want to get to know this version of me, it leaves me feeling unsettled.
So I spin away from the window, away from Brooks and his questioning. A dartboard on the opposite wall catches my attention, and my feet pad across the floor as I make my way over to it. I internally cringe when my socks meet the permanently sticky vinyl. I should’ve stopped to put my boots on before coming down, but I was distracted trying to send those texts.
“I’ve never played before,” I say. “Have you?”
“Okay, I get it,” Brooks says. He comes up behind me. “We’re avoiding that particular conversation today. I can do that.”
I send him a small, grateful smile. “So have you played?”
He nods. “I have. Want me to teach you?”
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” I mime throwing a dart at the wall.
Brooks chuckles. “I love the confidence. You’re going to need it.”
He walks over to a cupboard set into the wall, where thesupplies are kept, and pulls out a handful of darts. I accept the ones that he hands me. They’re heavier than I was expecting.
“You sure you don’t want a lesson?” he asks.
I tip my chin up. “I’m fine.”
