Page 540 of Manhattan Bossholes

Yes, I was heartbroken.

In my mind, negotiating the deal with Erin Woodley was a next-level gesture, to prove to Natalie just how serious I was about making things right between us. Hell, it had taken a dozen phone calls and triple what I’d planned to pay to convince the reclusive writer to do me the honor of crafting three thousand words. Not that the time or effort to make it happen mattered to me. I just assumed that I’d come up with the perfect way to prove to Natalie that I was consumed by her, and I hadn’t even considered she’d refuse me.

I’d walked out of the office that night utterly shaken. Where had I gone wrong? Why couldn’t she see how sorry I was, and how much I missed her?

Did the words “I fell in love with you” mean nothing to her?

Ice shot through my veins as I considered the worst possible explanation for why she’d turned me away. Was it possible that Natalie didn’t feel the same about me?

I dropped into a chair next to the window as I tried to come to terms with the idea that I might have lost her for good.

No. Impossible. I felt it in my bones that the woman still cared for me. I’d seen the way she looked at me, felt the way she touched me. Natalie loved me, but what I’d done to her had slammed every defensive measure she had into place, and it was going to take a lot to get those walls to come back down. So what could I do? Natalie wasn’t the type who needed something big and showy to prove a point. More than anything, I knew that Natalie wanted to feel wanted. Cherished.

Seen.

I jumped out of the chair and started pacing the floor. I felt like I knew Natalie better than anyone I’d ever been with, which is why I’d assumed that hiring her favorite writer was the perfect move to win her back. But to her, it probably felt hollow, another example of me flashing my money to get my way. It didn’t do anything to assuage her fears that I prioritized Branson Designs over her.

But did the company have to come first?

The idea started to take root before I could fight it off. My immediate reaction was to shut the thought down, even though I knew at a cellular level that it was what I needed to do.

I considered our conversation after Christopher’s birthday, when she’d revealed herself to me during the drive to her apartment. At her core, no matter how tough she came across, Natalie was still a lost little girl. She worried that she was replaceable, that the people who loved her would eventually move on.

The realization was a knife to my chest. It was exactly what I’d done to her. It didn’t matter that my relationship with Heidi was totally manufactured, in Natalie’s eyes I’d found someone else and left her in the dust.

How could I have been so blind? So stupid?

I started to conjure up dozens of ways to prove to her that my love for her was real. Could I hire Beyonce to write a song for her? I scoffed. No, Natalie didn’t want the showy stuff.

If my hunch was correct, all she wanted was me. My commitment. My heart.

I needed to prove to her that I saw her, I understood her, and she would always be my priority.

I strode to my home office and dug through the drawers to try to find paper. When was the last time I picked up a pen and written anything down? I finally found my stash of creamy, monogrammed letterhead Bernie had gifted me years before and sat down in the leather chair.

The pen hovered above the page, until finally, the right words started to flow from me.

NATALIE

“That was the worst taco I’ve ever eaten,” I said as I crumpled the tin foil and tossed it on the coffee table in front of me. “Are there any more left?”

Steph laughed as she dug through the brown paper bag. “Desperate times, huh?”

“You know it. I forget to eat all day at work because I’m so freaking busy, and by the time I get home, I’m ready to eat cardboard.”

“Mamacita Tacos has got you covered, then. Soggy shells and grizzle-meat. Yum!”

It was after nine and I was drained, as usual. I felt like I was barely keeping up at work, but I wasn’t about to let on that I was struggling. In a way I was happy to be occupied, because it didn’t allow me any time to think about James. I could focus on all the good stuff that was happening in the office and shove down any stray emotions about the bosshole.

Because “stray emotions” were all they could be. I mean, sure, he’d done something beautiful to try to convince me that he had real feelings for me. And a tiny part of me believed that he truly did love me…but that just wasn’t enough for me. Not when I knew that, no matter what he told me, he’d always go back to his one true love: Branson Designs.

“How was your day?” I asked Steph as she tossed another horrible taco my way.

Her shoulders hunched and she gave me a tight grin. “Um, perfect? Sorry, because I know things are tough for you right now, but I’m sort of loving this fit model stuff.”

“I’m glad!” I said. “You deserve it.”

“There’s this guy…” she began sheepishly.