Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Between the threat of Noah blindsiding Maxwell’s and my life and Chip returning at the worst time, it’s a lot.
He walks to the door, and his hyena laughter echoes off the wall. “I knew you hadn’t gotten over me. It’s kind of sweet how you’re holding on to our relationship.”
The offense is impossible to keep from my face. I stand, him literally getting a rise out of me. “Leave.”
“Settle dow—”
“Now!”
He looks over his shoulder for witnesses. Although I don’t face the atrium of cubicles, and there’s no office across from me, I know I’ll be the one judged for losing my cool in this situation.
Smarter than he looks, he leaves. I move around my desk and close the door, this time locking it. Returning to my chair, I lean back and close my eyes.
Inhale.
Slowly exhale.
Inhale.
Breathe out.
Imagine a sunny day at the park with Maxwell.
My anger ceases to exist with such a happy image in my head. I open my eyes again, feeling much calmer.
“Okay. This is good. Chip is gone. Noah and I are talking. I’m alone. It’s fine. All good.”
A knock has me cursing the interruption. I don’t think I can deal with Chip again. Please don’t let it be him. “Yes?”
“It’s me, Olivia,” my father calls from the other side of the door. When the knob rattles, I jump to my feet and rush to unlock it. He looks at me like I’m crazed. Maybe I am after the start to this day. “Why is your door locked?”
“I wanted to focus on the quarterly reports today.”
“Ah.” He walks to the window behind my desk, then turns to sit on the sill. “Close the door.”
That’s not good . . .
Doing as I’m told, I close it and then stay there to stand in my discomfort. After crossing his arms over his chest, he says, “Were you yelling at Chip?” The accusation stings, though I did yell.
Disappointment tugs his unruly eyebrows together. He let them go after my mom left him, and now I can’t stop staring. “We’ve talked about this, Olivia. One of the conditions of returning to the office was not yelling at Chip. Lowe Sr. isn’t in yet, but if he hears about this—”
“Then the office is gossiping again.” How is this already so twisted? “Why is everyone allowed to talk about me as if I’m the wicked witch . . .” I throw my hand out in the direction of Chip’s office down the hall. “But he skates by like the hero.” Shaking my head, I sit in a chair near the door. “Do you even care why I yelled?”
“No.” He stands and walks to the door. “I need you to be less reactionary and fall in line with expected behaviors.”
“What behaviors are those exactly?”
“Less . . . emotional. Ever since you came back from working remotely, you’ve been . . .” He pauses as if he’s hesitant to say it. It’s not like my father not to speak his mind. For someone who’s built a successful corporation on relationships, he’s never seemed to understand the basics regarding his own daughter.
I stand, angling his way. “What have I been?”
He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. When he looks at me, the words don’t have to come from his mouth. They’re seen clearly in his expression.
“A woman? I’ve been acting like a woman?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you made me say it instead.” I sit at my desk and turn to my monitor in order not to act on impulse and prove him right. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He opens the door. “I’ll let you get to it. I have lunch scheduled with Noah anyway. He’s the injection of energy we’ve needed in this company. Have you spent any time with him?”
“Some.”
“He’s great, right?”
“Yes, Dad, he’s great.” Although I’m conflicted over the situation with Noah, it’s not a lie.
A smile with pride shaping it shows up. “Speaking of, are you seeing anyone these days?”
We don’t often broach my personal life since Chip and I broke up two years ago, but this question is thrown from left field. Dating? How in the heck would I have time for dating? He seems to always forget I have a baby at home. But maybe this is genuine interest in his daughter.
“Dating isn’t something I’m interested in. I’m too busy with the bab—”
“There’s more to life than work, Olivia.”
Even though logically, I know it’s on him, my heart aches, knowing I’ve never lived up to what he’s expected, and the tradition continues with Maxwell. “I don’t need to date to be happy. I have all that I need.”
“That’s good.” He taps his watch. “Because if it weren’t for the non-fraternization policy in place, I’d suggest you spend more time with Noah. He’s a great catch.” He leaves like that’s the end of the conversation. It sounds more like Noah’s the son he never had.