Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Much better now,” I say. Of course, I’m talking to myself. I seem to do that a lot lately, as well.
It’s odd being back in my office. The four walls seem a little confining and lackluster, even though I’m the one who decorated them in the first place.
My assistant brings in coffee, sitting it on the desk, but she doesn’t leave.
“So, how was the trip? Tell me all about it!” she says excitedly.
How do I tell her that I spent the past month fucking four of the hottest men in the world? Or that I ran away from them because I didn’t think it would work, even though they begged me to stay?
“We can talk later over coffee. I have so much to catch up on, and please, hold my calls for the next few hours. That means everyone,” I say, smiling, giving my assistant a shove out the door with my words.
As the door to the office shuts, I begin to breathe again. I only want to be alone with my work right now. I’m sure there’s some disaster waiting for me to clean up.
How could there not be?
A buzz on my phone, and I almost drop it.
Derek has sent me a picture of my black panties. Fuck. I was sure I took everything.
I delete the photo.
I’m not going to reply to his message. I don’t want to give him hope, though it’s killing me inside to let it all go. The ceiling fan above me sends a stray lock of hair blowing freely in the breeze, and I’m suddenly taken back to the salty sea air on the beach as I dig my bare toes into the—
I shake my head hard. I need to focus here. I didn’t come all the way home to miss where I was. I came to work, and that’s what I plan on doing
I take a moment to let the coffee wake me up to reality. It’s strong and makes me miss the subtler blend back on the island. I make a mental note to order myself some Kona blend; I’m sure the girls in the office will love it as much as I do.
For the first time in almost a month, I boot up my laptop, expecting no less than complete insanity when I do. I expect that it’ll take a week to get through all the messages that I’m sure are waiting for me.
One click on my email, and I hold my breath, preparing for the inevitable bombardment…but it doesn’t happen.
Sure, there’s a lot of emails, but nothing with urgent in the subject line. Status updates, a handful of efficiency inquiries, and the monthly birthday reminder.
“What the hell went on while I was gone?” I ask myself out loud as I click through all the emails.
One by one, I go through the emails left for me, and the most important one is a company dinner that we hold each year. I’m sure they must be hiding something from me…right?
An hour later, I have responded to every email, pulled up the sales report, and found nothing wrong.
I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that my business can run just fine without me hovering over them. I guess they’re all trained well enough to handle this? Somehow I’ve accidently created a machine of complete automation.
Just like theirs.
I turn my chair to face the full wall window that overlooks the city below. Leaning back, watching as the little matchbox-sized cars zoom by, I can’t stop myself from thinking about the events of the month. How I ended up back at work today is the focus right now.
I look down at my nails, the color so not me. I had them done when I spent time with Derek. He picked out a shade of purple that I would never have chosen.
It was cute at the time, but now I wonder if I should’ve it changed to something that’s more neutral, or even nude. Picking at the nail, I decide I’ll leave it. It’s not too bad of a color, I guess.
One thing I do need to do is get rid of all the pictures on my phone. I filled my storage and might need the space.
I open my phone. Even the background is taunting me. It’s a picture of the five of us on the yacht.
With a deep breath in, I delete the photo. It automatically changes to a generic abstract art picture that came with the phone. I feel a pang of regret the moment it’s gone.
Have you ever had your heart broken only to find that you were the cause of it?
I open the gallery and the memories flood through me, as though the Niagara Falls popped the cork to my soul. Each photo is a moment in time where one of them showed me how to live for real. Or one where I figured out that work’s fine, but if you don’t live, you’ve wasted a gift.