Page 5 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Tension?” I repeat. My heart is pounding so hard that I can feel each beat in my temples, but it’s definitely not from the kind of tension that Mr. Keller thinks it is. It’s from panic.
“Sure,” he says. “I mean, we’ve been flirting for ages, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“All the banter, and the back-and-forth insults?—”
“I was just trying to do my job,” I say, staring at him in disbelief. “You were the one insultingme.”
He throws up a hand, beginning to look annoyed now that I’m being resistant. “I thought you would be into this. I thought that we might?—”
“No,” I interrupt, my voice cool. “We will not.”
I cross his office to the door. He doesn’t say anything as I pause, then glance back at him. I won’t look him in the eye, but instead focus on his shoes.
“I’ll be tendering my resignation, Mr. Keller. Given the circumstances, I am quittingimmediately.”
“No two weeks? That’s—” he shouts after me, but I let the door slam before he can finish his sentence. Professional courtesy be damned. I don’t owe him anything, not after what he just did.
I’ve hated this job ever since I got it. The whole time, it’s been the bane of my existence, but I’ve hung on. I’ve held out. Until now. This is the last straw. After years of insults and unprofessional rudeness, he has finally crossed a line.
There’s not much to gather from my desk, just a framed photograph of my parents: my father, with his arms wrapped around my mother’s shoulders, both of them smiling fondly out of the picture.
I tuck it into a cardboard box, along with my personal collection of Post-It notes and the potted succulent I keep on the edge of the desk.
I can feel Keller’s eyes on me through his office window as I march straight to the elevators. I jab the button three times, then remember that it’s broken and groan quietly.Stairs it is.
As I leave the building, there’s a spring in my step, and I feel giddy with the sudden rush of relief. The panic I felt in Keller’s office starts to fade, to be replaced by a sense of euphoria.
I did it. After all of this time, all of his ridiculous requests, all of the times he’s ogled me and berated me… I finally had the guts to walk away.
I only make it a block down the street before the reality of the situation begins to settle on me, though. And by the time I’m at the Metro station, the box in my hands seems to weigh a ton, as if a ton of bricks have been stacked inside of it.
Oh, god. I just quit my job.
The panic is back.
I just quit my job, and I have no source of income, and I’m never gonna be able to get another one that pays as well as Keller did.
I wait on the platform, staring at the tiled floor of the subway station, and do a few quick, mental calculations. My monthly expenses—rent, and bills, and groceries—plus the extra money that I send to my parents.
I can’t skip that payment; they’d never admit it, and they would assure me otherwise, but my parents need my help. I don’t want them to think anything is wrong, either. It would just worry them, and in her condition, my mother shouldn’t be worrying about anything.
I’m on the verge of tears. More than a few people on the platform are staring my way, their gazes analytical. I know what they must be thinking. I’m dressed in business attire, with a cardboard file box in my arms. I look like I just got fired.
Before the train arrives, I pull my phone out of my pocket, resting the box on my hip, and dial Riley’s number.
To my relief, my best friend answers immediately. “Olivia?” Her voice is tinged with concern. “Aren’t you at work? Did something happen?”
I laugh; it’s the only response that feels natural. It’s a hysterical sound, and more than a few subway passengers gawk at me openly.
“Oh, boy,” Riley sighs. “What happened? Was it your boss?”
“That pig,” I choke out. “He finally crossed a line. I’m so screwed, Riley. I don’t know what to do. I’m just in the subway, freaking out. These people probably think I’m cracking up.”
“Did you walk out?”
“I didn’t just walk out. Iquit.”
