I wake up the next morning with the worst headache. As I glance around at the empty Chinese food cartons and the two bottles of Pinot, the night starts to replay in my mind.
Oddly, I feel so much better today after crying over Dan and Mia. Fuck ’em. They deserve each other. I quickly tidy up and get in the shower to start my day. I text Violet, letting her know how good it was too see her. As I get dressed and dry my hair, I can’t stop thinking about Nick and the way he looked at me, leaning against my door last night. He is hot—Violet has a point—but I know I have to compartmentalize those feelings, because he’s Bria’s father, and because I am his employee.
But it feels nice to be happy about someone for once.
I throw on a pair of boyfriend jeans, black flats, and a black tank top. I finish the look off with Violet’s leather jacket. She left it here last night, and I kind of like the way it looks on me. It’s much edgier than anything I’d ever wear, but it works. I wasn’t sure if it would fit, but for some reason Violet and I have a Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants thing going on with our clothes.
I pull my long, straightened hair into a low, messy ponytail and apply a little makeup. No matter how much concealer I put under my eyes, they’re still puffy, and they still have dark circles under them. It’s a lost cause.
I check my phone and it’s already eight-forty. I don’t have time to eat—I make a mental note to grab some yogurt when I get into the main house. I lock up and put my phone in my back pocket.
As I slide the back door open, I see Nick sitting at the breakfast bar, eating oatmeal.
“Hi,” I say, sliding the door shut behind me.
He turns around, and his eyes wander wildly over me. I tug at my hair nervously. Why is he looking at me like that?
“Morning,” he says, smiling. “Rough night?”
Crap.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, I mean, you look nice, but… have you been crying?” I watch as he fidgets with his spoon, unsure of what to say. “Crap…” he mumbles. “Sorry. I’m being rude. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Where’s Bria?” I ask, changing the subject. That seems to wake him up a bit, because he clears his throat and points to the hallway.
“Upstairs, watching a movie.”
“Oh, okay.” I saunter over to the fridge and pull out a carton of yogurt. Nick clears his throat. I spin around and his eyebrows are raised. “Sorry, is it okay if I eat—?”
He laughs. “I made you oatmeal. Sit down and relax.” I look down at the placemat next to him. Sure enough, a steaming bowl of oatmeal sits waiting for me, along with a side of milk, a side of honey, and a small bowl of blueberries. “I wasn’t sure what you liked in your oatmeal, or if you even like oatmeal, but I made some for myself a few minutes ago and thought you might like some.”
Fuck.
Thoughtful.
Good-looking. Scratch that—extremely good looking.
I am in trouble, that’s for sure.
My eyes take in his suit—the dark-grey pants and the white shirt that’s unbuttoned slightly, making him seem a bit rough around the edges, like he’s not totally put together. Somehow, that makes what I’m feeling much, much worse.
Shut this down, Evi. Shut this down now!
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you,” I say politely, sliding into the seat next to him. I’m acutely aware of how close we are, but I breathe through it, concentrating on mixing in the milk, honey, and berries. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I can’t be that close to him and not get flustered.
I’m just eating breakfast with my boss. No biggie.
Nick slides the newspaper over to me without looking, and I have to keep myself from smiling. How domestic. I’m too nervous to read. I’m too nervous to do anything. It must be because he’s my boss. He’s just intimidating… except he’s not, not really. I’m just nervous around him for no reason.
Just concentrate on eating, Evianna. Stop looking at his hands.
But I can’t help it. His hands are strong, calloused… but also gentle. He’s a doctor. He has perfect doctor hands.