Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“You do realize that if your dad knew you were hooking up with his staff during office hours, he’d lose his shit, right?”
She shrugs. “He’d get over it.”
“But would he?” I question, but her response is interrupted when the phone on my desk starts ringing. I shove Avery’s hip out of the way so I can answer it, and she jumps down and waves goodbye with wiggly fingers. “Hello?” I say into the receiver as Avery heads off to do anything but actual work. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes back to my cubicle in an hour to tell me she let some hot dude in HR touch her tits.
“Juniper, it’s Steve down at reception. You have a delivery.”
My eyebrows knit together. “A delivery?”
“Yes. Do you want to come down and get it?”
“Uh…sure. Be down in a sec.” I hang up the phone and stand up, and a quick crane of my neck shows Avery has Houdinied completely.
I’m not expecting a package. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I beat feet from my cubicle to the front of the floor, past the reception desk, and over to the elevator to call the cart.
The most pathetic part of me wonders if Beau figured out who I am from our chat last night and has decided to start a mystery romance. It’s not likely per se, but fairy tales are built on exceptions to the rule, aren’t they?
The elevator ride to reception is a balloon of wild thoughts. Somehow, I even manage to squeeze it through the doors without popping it when I get down to the lobby. Right in front of Steve sits a giant bouquet of pink roses, and my heart races, daydreams of a Beau and June love story sending it into overdrive.
“Are those for me?” I question tentatively, bringing Steve’s head up from the desk at the sound of my voice.
He looks down at his notes and then back up at me. “Are you Juniper Perry?”
I nod and flash him my badge.
“Well, then, yes, these are for you,” he says and leans down to pick up a white box wrapped with a Tiffany-blue bow from where it sits beside his computer screen. “And this too.”
My hands pluck the note from the roses, my fingers shaking with anticipation. I open the tiny envelope and pull out the card, and instantly, my giant balloon of hope and daydreams and delusional Beau-filled fantasies deflates until it’s a pathetic, shriveled-up piece of latex.
I recognize the handwriting painfully well—my father’s assistant, Shirlene.
Juniper,
I still think you should come work for me.
Then I’d get to see you more.
Love and miss you so much, my darling girl,
Daddy
Ugh. Same old words, same old actions. Even if I worked for my dad, I’d still see him as much as I see him now—a big fat never. His and Lola’s feet practically never touch the ground.
I don’t even bother opening the box, already knowing it’s probably some expensive bracelet or necklace from Tiffany’s. From the outside, the stuff seems nice—that at least the thought counts. But that’s only if the thought comes from the right person, and I know for a fact that this one came from Shirlene.
Almost all of them do. Well, except the ones that come from Carmen, my father’s backup assistant when Shirlene is too busy with all of his day-to-day shit.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Steve?” I ask, my voice audibly scratchy. Swallowing tears always makes my throat raw.
“I’m married, actually.”
“Perfect,” I comment and slide the pink roses and Tiffany box back toward him. “I think you should take these gorgeous flowers and this box and give them to her when you get home tonight. Or, if you can, sneak away and surprise her with them.”
His eyes go wide. “I don’t… That’s way too much. I can’t take—”
“Please?” I plead. “You’d actually be doing me a favor.”
“I’d be doing you a favor by taking these flowers and gift?”
“A huge one.”
I don’t want to see any more reminders of my father’s make-believe. I don’t want to face how naïve I was to hope it was anything else.
He searches my eyes for a long moment and then smiles, giving in with a nod. “She’s gonna lose her mind.”
I grin. “Good.”
I leave before he has a chance to protest, staring down at the marble floor as I make the loneliest walk I’ve ever done back to the elevator. I rub at my forearms furiously, their position crossed over my stomach, and try valiantly not to cry. I don’t know if anything will ever be the way I want it to be—with my father or Beau—and freaking hell, does reality sting.
The elevator dings its arrival, and I step on. But just as I do, Beau comes jogging toward me, one arm held high. “Hold the elevator!”
Nerves prick at my belly, and I almost let the doors slide closed, trying to avoid him entirely, but when he adds, “June!” I can’t ignore him.