In truth, I’m just stalling because I don’t want her to leave.
Anything else she can do for me? She can climb onto my lap and let me kiss her. Or kneel beneath my desk and suck me off. Or let me lift that burgundy dress of hers and fuck her on top of my desk.
Damn it, Ethan. Are you a sex-crazed maniac now?
“No.” I put the papers back in a pile. “Everything’s fine.”
“Okay.”
She turns on her heel and walks towards the door. Her ponytail sways behind her shoulders.
That’s another thing that has changed. Before, she only wore her hair in a bun. Yesterday, she had half of it down like she did that time we did it on the couch back in Switzerland. Now, it’s in a ponytail.
Is it because she knows I like her hair loose? I guess I should be glad she didn’t decide to cut it.
“Stella.” Her name leaves my lips when she’s almost at the door.
She turns around. “Yes?”
I don’t know why I called her. I just did. Maybe because I wanted to look at her a little longer? I can’t just stare, though. I have to say something.
“How are you? Has the jet lag worn off?”
The moment I finish speaking, I want to hit my head on my desk. What kind of a question is that? Lame. That’s what.
“I’m fine,” Stella answers confidently.
Of course she is. It’s been a week.
“What about you?” she asks softly. “Have you been sleeping well?”
My eyebrows almost arch. She’s concerned about me? That’s the first time this week I’ve seen any evidence of it.
“Fairly,” I answer.
I’d sleep better if she were by my side.
“Have you given your friends their chocolates?”
“Yes.”
“They liked them?”
“Very much.”
“And your chocolates?” I ask. “Did you finish them already?”
“No.” She looks at me like I’m crazy, then glances at her stomach. “I think I gained enough weight from all the food we ate in Switzerland.”
“You still look good, though.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think. Stella’s eyes grow wide. Her cheeks turn red.
Great. Now I’ve made her uncomfortable.
She runs her fingers behind her ear. “I’ll be going. Good night… sir.”
That again.
“Good night.”
Stella leaves my office. As soon as she’s gone, I lean back in my chair and let out a sigh.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Chapter Fifteen
Stella
I can’t do this.
I pull my ponytail off as I sit on my bed. My chest feels tight as tears threaten to well up. I draw a deep breath to try to keep them at bay.
Why does it still hurt so much?
When I cried my heart out that night after I left Ethan’s hotel room, I thought that would be the last time I would cry over him. The day after, during our flight back to Chicago, I felt fine. But maybe that was because Asher was on the plane with us.
Whenever I’m alone with Ethan, my mind gets transported back to Switzerland – to the puddled cobblestone streets of Zurich, to that cafe with that amazing strudel, to the top of Uetliberg, to the sea of roses in Bern. And yes, my heart skips a beat at first, but then I remember that those memories are all I’ll ever have of Ethan and my heart just shatters all over again.
I clutch my chest as my tears escape. The first one trickles down my cheek and lands on my lap.
It’s no use. No matter what I do, I can’t forget about Ethan or keep myself from wanting him.
I thought I’d be okay not having Ethan love me back. I thought I’d be happy just being by his side like before. I thought I was strong enough to just be friends with the man I love.
I was wrong.
I want Ethan. I want him not just as my boss or my lover but as my boyfriend, my husband. I want to be by his side not just at work. I want to fall asleep on his shoulder after a long conversation every night and wake up next to him every morning.
I want him in my life.
That’s why I couldn’t help but ask if he was fine. I couldn’t stop myself from talking to him even though I said I wasn’t ready for the chats we used to have. And when he gave me that unexpected compliment, when he looked at me like he wanted to fuck me, I nearly threw myself at him.
I slap my forehead as I lie down on my bed.
“Oh, Stella, what are you going to do?”
Seriously, I don’t know. I don’t know what I can do. But I know this: I can’t keep crying every night.
I sit up and pull out a few sheets of tissue from the box on the nightstand. As I blow my nose, my gaze falls on the box of chocolates from that shop in Zurich.