Page 65 of The Boss and the Adoption Mess

He’s leaving now?

“There’s nothing in your calendar,” I say, standing up. Gabriel grabs my wrist, so I stay in front of the table, looking at him curiously.

“The appointment is personal. That’s why you won’t find it.”

I get it. No need to check the tablet to see if I made a mistake.

Personal? A date?

The thought stabs me in the heart.

“Visiting your mother?” I ask and sit down again. Gabriel lets go of me and nods.

“Yes. She asked me to stop by.”

I see. I’m relieved, smile, nod, and take my teacup. Gabriel finishes his, then stands.

“Have a quiet evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Do you want a sweet or savory breakfast?” I ask.

“Surprise me,” he says with a sweet smile that melts me like butter on a pancake. I sigh softly, nod, and already start thinking about tomorrow morning.

“Drive safe,” I add as he leaves.

“I will. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

I stay at the table, listening as he puts on his coat and leaves. The driveway light doesn’t turn on until his car pulls up to the gate.

I go to the window and watch. The gate closes again, and I’m alone in the house with Rosie. I quickly clean the kitchen and make a list of all the food so I can plan tomorrow’s breakfast. Ishould probably go shopping during the day. There’s not much left, and I’ll have to improvise.

But necessity is the mother of invention. I’ll manage.

Upstairs, I peek into Rosie’s room. She’s asleep, the night-light glowing warm blue.

Passing Gabriel’s room, I pause. Feeling like a thief, I slip inside and look around. Nothing’s out of place. His bedroom is so neat you could eat off the floor.

I step into his bathroom. It smells of his shampoo and cologne. Only faintly, but I can clearly detect the scent.

As I’m about to leave—guilt creeping in—I notice the full laundry basket with a sweater peeking out. I pick it up and smell it. It has his scent… faint, but unmistakable. I glance at the shelf where his cologne sits. With the sweater in hand, I spray a few spritzes on the fabric. Yes, that’s better.

He won’t notice, right?

This isn’t weird, is it?

I’ll never be able to have this man.

But tonight, maybe he’ll visit me in my dreams.

I just take the sweater with me, put on my pajamas, and cuddle up in bed with it.

I’d rather have him.

But that’s how it is.

I have to accept it.