Page 387 of Valentino

And by everyone, I mean your boss.

“The girls are at the cocktail bar and accounting is dancing. Marlene from level three flashed her tits on stage.”

I giggle as I scan the room and then I stop still as my eyes meet Gabriel’s.

He’s wearing a dark gray suit, white shirt, Santa hat, and my heart on the bottom of his shoe. He gives me a slow sexy smile and raises his glass.

I smile and raise my glass right back.

He goes back to talking to the people he’s standing with, and I watch him, waiting for him to glance back over at me.

He doesn’t.

My heart freefalls from my chest at his totally unaffected demeanor, it’s not going to happen…. is it?

I don’t know who I was kidding.

“Tell us about your new house.” Geoffrey smiles excitedly, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

“Me, neither” chimes in Paul.

I smile, grateful to the people who actually do give a crap about what I’m doing.

I drain my glass; I need to forget about my asshole boss and just enjoy the night.

It’s 11:30pm and Gabriel left hours ago; he didn’t even say goodbye.

Wow.

More than wow, fucking wow.

What a prick!

I’m going to get going, my eyes linger on the elevator, and I just…. I want to see my office one last time. I don’t know why, but I do. I take the elevator to the top floor and make my way to my desk.

I look out over the view, it’s so different at night up here, the lights of New York light up the entire skyline.

Unlike the busy and bustling daytime.

It’s peaceful.

Serene.

I sit at my desk and look around.

So, this is what closure feels like. The end of one era and the beginning of another. I swivel on my chair, feeling proud of myself.

I did it, I made a plan and stuck to it. Did exactly what I needed to do.

I’m moving on.

I sit for a long time as I process everything that has happened over the last seven years, the dressing diary sessions, the fights and tantrums. The sarcastic snark. The laughter, the crush.

Oh…. the crush. I crushed hard, but in my defense, I am only human.

I walk to his office and open the door; it’s darkened, lit only by a lamp and his bathroom light, I look over his desk and smile sadly. It’s hard to believe I’ll never see him sitting here again. I run my hand over his desk, the back of his chair, over the keyboard that houses his fingers all day.

His presence is so strong in here, I can almost feel him.