Chapter 22
Niki
Rosie dead-eyes me as she stands at my doorway. Her arms flex as she squeezes her fists.
“I’m so sorry, Rosie. I was completely out of line.”
She lets out a whoosh of breath. “Yes, you were, but I overreacted. I’m tired, and I took it out on you. But also, there’s some things I don’t want to talk about.”
“Okay. You once told me to tell you when I’m anxious. I should have explained myself properly. Can I explain now? I completely understand if you don’t want to listen. We can return to professionalism. I’ll take your lead.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” She steps into my office. “And don’t worry about giving me the lead. You need control when you’re anxious, and I’m good with that.”
“Stop getting in my head,” I tease. I sit on the corner of my desk and wrap my fingers around the bracelet in my pocket. “Our professional relationship started weirdly because of the kiss that quite rightly neither of us mentions.”
She nods.
With a staggered breath, I add, “But it means I’m less anxious around you than others.
Sometimes I panic that people can’t stand this weird, grumpy version of me, so when you appeared uncomfortable, I worried I’d done that to you.
I’ve experienced anxiety around others, and I didn’t want to be the one who made you experience that.
And if I did, I wanted to know what I should do differently. ”
Her eyes never leave mine.
“Niki, I’m not uncomfortable around you.
Sometimes things outside of work impact me.
It’s usually my forever tiredness. Although I have the support of my parents and my amazing housemate, life is a struggle.
It has its joys, and everything you’ve done helps, but I get tired and miss things, and somehow, I end up with old clothes or yoghurt on my sleeve.
” She holds up her sleeve to prove her point.
“I’ll buy new clothes and try to catch up on sleep. Meanwhile, here, I’ll give my all.”
“Okay.” Why hasn’t she got support from Tabi’s dad?
I used to request background checks on my direct staff, but I don’t want to with her.
She’s the only person who doesn’t make me feel judged.
The more I learn about her, the more I’m likely to feel judged.
“I’m guessing you don’t want me to ask anything more about your private life. ”
“Correct.” She folds her arms. “Also, you’re anxious about the practice drive. Your confidence dropped after you returned from Australia. We need to do something about that.”
I sit back, and my stare drops to the floor. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “Sometimes I hide it well, but then I’m more reactive.”
“Have you spoken to your counsellor about that?” I shake my head. “It was part of my top module at university. Sometimes, when anxiety hits, we get so overwhelmed, and we can’t see beyond it. It’s similar to a toddler acting out because they’re hungry or tired.”
My lips quirk, and I meet her gaze. “Are you calling me a toddler?”
She runs a palm down her face. “Fuck, no. Sorry. I’m tired and saying the wrong thing.”
“Before the accident, Connor used to call me a toddler when I acted out. I was stroppy if all the attention wasn’t on me or I didn’t win.”
“A sore loser, eh?”
I grin. “Sometimes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I can be a sore loser, too. We’d best only get in situations where we both win.” A dirty thought hits me, but I push it away instantly. “In the meantime, you don’t comment on my clothes.”
“No, never again, although I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you spoke with Senna about dressing casually. I’ve arranged for something. If it’s overstepping, you’re within your rights not to speak to me for the rest of the week.”
At a knock on the door, she glances over her shoulder, her dark hair sweeping with her.
The entire marketing department stands outside my office, their arms full of Coulter F1 Racing–branded sportswear. “Just leave it in the corner.”
They drop off hoodies, T-shirts, caps, jogging bottoms, and more.
“Thank you.”
Rosie’s mouth drops as she looks between me and the clothes in the corner of the room.
“Obviously, you can wear anything you want from now on. I hate dressing smart, but often I try to match Senna.” And impress you.
“Fuck that. Joggers for me, unless I have an important meeting. I’m sorry I didn’t offer you branded items sooner.
You don’t have to wear any of it, but if you want to, it’s all yours. ”
She rocks on her heels. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I want you to be happy.” She stares at the clothes as I stutter, “Because a happy assistant is the best kind of assistant. Help yourself to the clothes.”
She rushes to the piles with a spring in her step and rummages like she’s at a jumble sale.
Occasionally, she holds up something before tucking it under her arm.
She giggles at the branded pyjamas and tucks them under her arm, too.
The tightness in my shoulders eases. Senna suggested she’d be okay with it.
Rosie eyeballs me as she holds up a small T-shirt. “I’m not a size six.”
I shrug. “I got all the sizes we had. I don’t know your size.
” Because I spend every day trying not to stare at the bottom I held as we kissed.
“But if something will fit Tabi or your housemate, take it. Everything in that pile is yours. I asked them to bring our branded children’s clothes, too, as I thought you said Tabi was four.
” She grabs a couple of bits, including some of our retro stock.
“Thank you. I love it all. I’ll take a few things for her. She has too many growth spurts.”
“I’m glad you’ve managed toddlers before,” I say with a wink. I like that she sees me as a toddler. Maybe she’s helping me be who I was before.
She rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop her beaming smile. “Sorry again for overreacting.”
I hold my hands up. “Totally on me. I’m learning, and although I’m trying my best, I’m going to fuck up. We’re in this together for better or worse, if you’re happy with that.”
She grins, and the corners of my mouth pull up.