Page 23 of Every Broken Piece
My relief... It’s stupidly overtaking my ability to breathe. She’s home. She’s safe. She’s not at a bar with men hitting on her or buying her drinks that could be contaminated with whatever shit these douchebags are doing to girls these days.
Whoa, what the hell is this? What’s gotten into you, man? She’s none of your concern.
But yet, she is. Somehow, she became my concern, and I don’t know when or how, or even why. This is so ridiculously inappropriate. She’s thirteen years my junior. She’s myassistant. I’m sure there’s all kinds of rules about fraternization at her company just like there is in mine.
Tess: Did you get a book last weekend?
I grab the book in question and snap a picture to send to her.
Tess: Ohhhh that’s a good one! The second one’s even better.
Me: Bought that one too
Tess: You’ll have to tell me how you like it
Me: So why no bar hopping?
Let it go, idiot! Why are you harping on this?
Tess: Not my thing. I’ll go occasionally to be social. Plus its expensive
I sit back and read that again, then a third time. Is money tight? I have no idea what a VA makes. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m paying for her. Jack set all this up. I make a mental note to ask him what he’s paying her company for her time. Maybe I should look into this company a little more to see if they’re treating their employees right.
Tess: Are you staying in tonight or do you have big plans?
Me: Big plans with my book. Just like you
And isn’t that a kick to the gut? Like her I’m content to be home. Content to read.
Content to text her all night long.
No. No way. Nope. I’m not texting her all evening like some middle-school kid. I need to stop this madness because thisismadness. This is the height of stupidity.
Maybe I should go out to a bar, pick up some woman. But the thought almost makes me recoil. I’ve never been one to pick up a random woman and I’m not about to start now. I don’t want a random woman.
I want...
Tess James.
I want to get to know her. I want to talk to her face to face. I want to take her to dinner and learn about her. She seems like she’s alone in the world. She’s talked about her friend, Amelia, but she’s never mentioned her family.
In the two times you’ve texted she’s never mentioned family, but that doesn’t mean she has none. Get your head out of your ass, Strong.
I practically slam my head back against the headrest of my recliner and stare at my ceiling, examining these shocking thoughts. Where did all this come from? Am I that lonely that I’m latching on to my virtual assistant who lives half a country away?
Or is it, Tess?
No. I need to stop this now. My thumbs are hovering over the keypad of my phone when her text pops up.
Tess: What do you think about cats?
I hesitate. Intrigued. And, yes, relieved that she stopped me from ending this madness because I want the madness. I crave the madness. I want to swim in this madness. I don’t know if it’s Tess specifically, or that my life has become so boring. Now that Pax is out of the house, and Jack moved out years ago, there’s nothing for me but work.
Two weeks ago, two months ago, that was enough.
Until I started receiving good morning texts with smiling emojis and a few exclamation points thrown in.
Have you thought that maybe you need a little more exclamation points in your life?
