Chapter 2
Atlanta
“What happened?” I eye my boss, his features marred with worry.
He stares off into the restaurant interior. “I just don’t understand it.”
“Did he give you any reason?”
“No. Just said he was going in a different direction, which makes no sense. We were all set at 4:30 yesterday.” A shadow crosses his face, like he’s remembering something that unsettles him, but then he blinks it away.
“What?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
I reach across the table and lightly touch his forearm, instant sparks igniting. His eyes find mine, and I jerk it back. Inappropriate, Atlanta. He’s your boss.
“I won’t judge, Holden.”
“This parking lot Santa cornered me and started listing off things about me. Personal things. Then cursed me to bad luck unless I perform three good deeds.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want you to think badly of me.”
“I won’t.”
He takes a deep breath. “You know that elderly couple a few houses down from me? The ones with the large Craftsman?”
I know the house instantly. It’s a striking home, two-stories with a charming wrap-around porch and abundant three-car garage.
“Well, he knew that I called the HOA about their inflatable Halloween decorations.”
“Holden! You didn’t!”
He cringes. “They don’t fit with the aesthetic of the neighborhood.”
“They’re in their eighties, Holden.”
“You said you wouldn’t judge.”
“No. I said I wouldn’t think poorly of you. But I have to judge you a little for that. But that’s not why the client left. It happens.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
I swallow, knowing now is not the time to ask about the promotion. All the red flags are there, but do I heed them? Nope. I plunge forward, compelled to ask the question I already know the answer to.
“And what about the promotion?”
He watches me, his brown eyes stormy, holding mine.
“It’s not the right time, Atlanta. We’re right in the middle of the holidays.
You know we have a bunch of new jobs lined up for the first of the year.
Let’s get through the holidays and circle back and revisit this conversation at the first of the year. ”
My heart sinks because with each week that passes and Holden doesn’t promote me, I realize more and more that he doesn’t fully respect me.
He would need to hire a recruiter to find someone qualified enough, and I know he hasn’t done that, and a little spark of hope lights up, getting me to think that maybe Holden really is just trying to get through this busy season.
But as we receive our food, doubt trickles back in because January is looking to be even busier than right now.
I’ve given myself until Christmas Eve to see if Holden holds true to his promise of a promotion, but I don’t know if I can wait to start looking for jobs.
As much as it’ll hurt not to see Holden every day, deep down I know it might be the best thing for me.
It’s not healthy loving someone you just can’t have.
Capri: You still have to work the day after Thanksgiving?
Me: Yes.
Capri: Tell Holden to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.
Me:
Capri: I know you love him, but there are red flags flying everywhere.
Me: Didn’t Zane fly his own red flag the day you met?
Capri: It was one, Atlanta, not twenty.
I step off the treadmill, frustration coursing through me. My cousin’s right.
Ugh.
Why do I have to be in love with a grump who keeps dangling a promotion in front of me?
I know what he’s doing. He’s afraid that I’ll leave him just like his other lead designer.
But if he’s not careful, he’ll push me out the door anyway.
And that would be a tragedy because I know that we’d be so good together.