Page 80 of Boss in the Bedsheets

Denis shifted and took a step toward me, his hands outstretched and those old familiar eyes of his, the ones that asked for everything and promised the moon in return, flashed hot and desperate. "I know you have it. I'm not leaving until you give it to me."

Ash gave a beastly growl as he blocked Denis from advancing on me. "You must not want this to end peacefully, do you?"

"I don't have it, Denis." A shiver moved through me. "I left everything for you, all of it, even my notes and annotations. The entire outline is there. I put it all on your desk. There's nothing else for you to take from me."

"But it's not finished," he roared. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with half a dissertation?"

I hugged the files to my chest as if they could block his words from permanently lodging in my soft tissue. "You're going to have to write the rest by yourself. It's about time you earned something without me."

Propelled only by the power of speaking these words to Denis, I turned and marched back to the records room. With my back against the closed door, I dropped the stray files to the floor and welcomed the velvet rush and sting of blood flow back into my arms. Raised voices filtered through the door though I resisted the urge to listen. I couldn't do that, couldn't go there. Not when the shock of Denis's appearance still flickered in my chest. Tears warmed my eyes but I wasn't crying now because I had more important things to do. There was a cabinet in need of order and then a wedding to get to and muffins to sample next week and perhaps a new, larger pot for Kirby the cactus after that.

Fifteen minutes later, the drawers of the disemboweled cabinet hung open and knee-high stacks of files sat around me like beige toadstools. It was a haphazard mess and I'd invented new work but it was better than beating myself up one more time over past decisions. Not that it would help anyway. I already knew all the missteps I'd made with Denis. It took me far too long—yearstoo long—to see those missteps but I saw them now. There was no reason to relive any of it.

By the time Ash edged the door open, I was plopped down on the ground and busy alphabetizing the tallest of the toadstools. He started to speak but stopped himself as he surveyed the damage. "What the hell is this?"

"I don't know who you had keeping your records in order, Ashville, but they weren't in any generally agreed-upon type of system and now I'm correcting that."

He sawed his teeth over his bottom lip. "Right," he murmured, shifting the piles with the side of his shoe and stepping toward me.

"I have this under control," I said.

"Of that I have no doubt." He held his hands out to me. "Come here. Please."

"I need to finish this. You asked for the Castavechia file and I found it but I don't know where it is anymore."

"Zelda. Love. There isn't enough space in here for us both to sit down so I need you to take my hands and come with me."

Reluctantly, I set the stack aside and allowed him to help me up from the floor. He led me into his office, his arm swung around my shoulder. His posture was concrete stiff though he held me as if he was truly concerned I'd shatter under anything more than the lightest touch.

That wouldn't happen. Even if Denis's appearance had acquainted me with the very real and very shitty emotions he generated in me, I could survive this. After all the cliffs and unpacked parachutes of the past thirty-one years, I could survive anything.

Ash sat me in one of his guest chairs and dragged its mate closer for himself. When he lowered himself into the seat, our knees wove themselves together.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

There was no mistaking the weight of those words. He wasn't only asking about this present moment but all the ones before too. "Yeah." I nodded quickly. "Yes. I'm all right."

"You're sure? You're not hurt? You're—you're okay?"

Another quick nod. "Yes."

Ash stared at me a second before shooting out of the chair. "Then please explain to me what the fuck I just witnessed because I can't make sense of it."

"I'm not still with him."

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" I echoed.

"You wouldn't be in my bed if you were still with him." He lifted his shoulders, inviting me to disagree. When I didn't, he continued. "Why did he call you Rose?"

"It's my middle name."

"My brother's middle name is Wolf and even though he could carry it off, no one calls him Wolf."

"Maybe we should give it a shot," I said. "See if it sticks."

"Zelda, for the love of god, save it for later. You know, when I'm not in a blind, murderous rage. Okay?"