Page 1 of Mostly My Boss
1
Now
Therapy
Julia
The office smelled like lavender. A diffuser no doubt. Something that might put the occupants at ease without their even realizing that was happening. I was not fooled. He wasn’t here yet. Typical. So I took a seat as the older woman—late fifties, early sixties maybe, perfectly dressed complete with hair and makeup—sat in a comfortable chair across from mine. I knew her name was Carol.
I appreciated the clean esthetic of the office. A desk and a computer behind her. Three comfortable but sturdy leather chairs situated in the center of the room. A bookshelf filled with books but no knickknacks to make the room feel cluttered.
“Can I get you coffee? Tea? Water?” the woman asked as she directed her gaze to a small area designated for that purpose: a mini fridge, a counter with a coffeepot and kettle.
I was about to decline when she started rattling off her tea menu.
“The vanilla orchid sounds delicious,” I said with a tight smile.
Prepping the tea would give her something to do while we waited. A way to cover for the fact that Ethan was late. Which wasn’t my responsibility anymore. No more making sure he was on time for things. So no reason for me to feel antsy, which is what I’d always felt when Ethan was late, and it was my responsibility to get him someplace.
Not my responsibility anymore.
A few minutes later she came back with a large white mug filled with steaming tea. She sat again and I took a second to admire her outfit. A blouse that I knew had cost more than a hundred dollars. Pants that were tailored to her exact height, which was tall for a woman. A pair of unassuming nude pumps that I recognized as Jimmy Choo’s work.
She wore no ring on her left hand. Was that a purposeful choice to put her clients at ease? After all, no one in this predicament wanted to be faced with the icon of a perfect relationship sitting directly across them. It would only ratchet up the tension and highlight the deficiencies of the dubious couple in question.
“I should tell you,” I began, “before he gets here, that we probably have different agendas for this meeting.”
Carol’s eyebrow rose. “You understand this isn’t a business meeting.”
“Yes,” I said, trying not to think too hard about what I was doing here. I mean, I knew what I was doing here. These were Ethan’s terms and I agreed to them. This was the price of getting free. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m only doing this because he’s insisting.”
The door opened in a rush and I turned to take him in. He was still sporting the scruff around his jaw. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, as if he’d hastily tucked his button-down into the jeans but hadn’t quite managed to tuck it in all the way around.
I shook my head in dismay, wondering if he’d slept in those same clothes last night. On the heels of that thought, I wondered who he might have been with.
Not that it was any of my business.
One hour. I could do this for exactly one hour.
“Sorry,” he announced to both of us.
Thinking on it, that’s how he started almost all his conversations with me. With an apology. I might have been tempted to feel sorry for him if:
a) I wasn’t SO so over him,
b) he wasn’t usually right to be apologizing.
He took a seat next to me and Carol smiled at him.
“Can I get you something?” she asked him. “Coffee—”
“No, thank you,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I really want to get started.”
“If that was the case, then you wouldn’t have been late,” I pointed out.
I winced. Wow, that sounded bitchy. Passive–aggressive. Mean. Cold. And bitchy. When had I become that person? One more thing to blame on Ethan. Forcing me to become the worst version of myself.
“You’re right. Sorry. There was a reason…I’ll explain later. Anyway, I’m here now.”
