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She doesn't wait for an answer.

Typical.

But what's not typical is how she has me staring as she leaves the room.

I want her.

And I have no idea what the hell am I supposed to do about this.

SHAYLA

I make it to the women's restroom before my composure cracks. My hands shake as I grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection.

What just happened?

I can't believe he still hasn't fired me, even though he knows about everything.

My fake wedding.

Fake divorce.

And all the other messier things that I don't yet have the strength to think about.

The look in his eyes when he cornered me against the bookshelf—I've never seen him look at me like that before. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

Take off that ring.

Why does he care so much?

I twist it around my finger, a habit formed over nearly a decade.

So that's it, then? You never dated? And you still haven't met anyone capable of changing your mind?"

The answer I gave him...

It's the only answer you can give,I remind myself.

So don't let him bother you!

I straighten my blouse and check my appearance one last time.

Focus, self.

I can't let this...thismessbother me.

I...regret saying personal stuff about him, and I still intend to apologize to him about that.

Because truthfully?

I love my job. I love working for him. And so I can't let anything...messydestroy the life I've painstakingly worked hard for in the past nine years.

So just do what you usually do, and pretend everything's normal!