Page 59 of Hating the Boss

Me: Sure. When?

Brad: 9?

I looked at the time on my phone. It was just after 8 a.m. I would really have to book it.

Me: See you then.

I quickly downed the rest of my coffee and stood from the couch.

“Off to work?” asked Jessica, not looking up from the game show she was watching on TV.

“Mhmm,” I said. I felt bad for leaving her. I was sure being at the apartment most days was lonely. My once lively sister had become a shell of herself, relying on others, which weighed on her heavily. I knew I shouldn’t feel bad. I had to work, but lately it hadn’t so much felt like a job. It was fun and exciting. Maybe that was what made me feel guilty as I walked to my room to get ready.

I had maybe twenty minutes to get dressed. I opted for throwing my unwashed hair up into a twisted bun on my head. I pulled out a few wavy tendrils to fall around my face. Then I added a quick coat of mascara to my lashes and a swipe of clear gloss to my lips. I slipped on the pale blush dress I had worn on my first day of work, when I had experienced my first member’s only club.

I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. My excitement at seeing Brad was bubbling inside me. As much as I tried to swallow it down, it was still there. My smile pulled into a small frown as I reminded myself it was just a job. Whatever feelings that were forming for him were trouble, and would only lead to someone getting hurt. That person being me.

I felt foolish all of a sudden. Primping myself for a man I couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop coming to each and every night. It wasn’t real. None of it was. Not the hand holding or the kisses or the loving glances. Not the way he held me after making my entire body tremble as I was hit with a wave after wave of pleasure.

Had I not learned my lesson after falling for a man who wasn’t available? Had that heartbreak not been enough for me?

I shook my head at the reflection staring back at me. “Get your head on straight, Sarah,” I whispered.

I needed to focus on the job, putting whatever developing feelings aside to hopefully forget. I had to disconnect from this relationship. Had to remember it wasn’t real. It was something I was hired for. Something I only agreed to for the money, so my sister and I could stop drowning in debt and live a better life.

I had to take a page from Brad’s book. He was a shark. A businessman through and through. He kept business and personal separate, focusing on the money and the best moves to get more. That was what I needed to do.

Telling myself it was going to be a boring breakfast listening to businessmen compare dick sizes, I left my apartment. It slightly dulled the excitement of seeing Brad, knowing I would have to discreetly take notes on things that really didn’t interest me, while pretending to be a doting girlfriend to a man who could get under my skin, just as easily as he could get my clothes off.

I caught the next train out of Brooklyn to Manhattan, arriving at my stop exactly at 9 a.m. I hurriedly walked down the block toward Central Park, my feet jammed into a pair of heels that click-clacked against the sidewalk. I was late, but what did Brad expect? He sprung this breakfast on me.

I pushed open the door to Sarabeth’s and looked around the crowded restaurant. To my surprise, I spotted Brad at a corner table. He was alone. I sucked in a deep breath and began weaving through the tables covered in white tablecloths, the smell of Belgian waffles and bacon wafting toward me. My stomach grumbled.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said, plopping into the cherry stained wooden chair across from him.

“No worries.” He smiled easily.

I noticed the table was set for two.

No one else was joining us?

As if reading my mind, he said, “It’s just us. I thought we could…get to know each other a little more.”

Wait. Was this a date?

I didn’t have the nerve to ask.

I swallowed hard, settling back in my chair and fiddling my silverware wrapped in a white linen napkin. I looked around the restaurant, taking in the pale pink walls and hanging chandeliers casting a pale-yellow glow. I could feel Brad watching me, but was too nervous to meet his gaze. I was more confused than ever.

The waitress came around and we both ordered coffee, along with an order of lemon and ricotta pancakes for me and smoked salmon benedict for Brad. We talked about work for a little while, an awkward tension settling between us, as we waited for our food. It felt like a first date, nerves fluttering in my throat as if I hadn’t spent practically every day of the last two weeks with him. This was different, though.

Once our food came, I took a bite of the sweet, fluffy pancakes and my eyes instinctively rolled to the back of my head. It was delicious. Like a cloud of citrusy cake melting on my tongue.

“Good, right?” asked Brad with a knowing nod as he sliced into his dish, the egg yolk spilling out from under the salmon and onto the plate.

“Heavenly,” I said, taking another bite.

“I used to come to this place all the time as a kid,” he said, taking a bite of his meal. “It’s one of my mother’s favorites.”