JAKE
Iarrived at the office two hours early on Monday morning. I wasn’t sure what to expect when Gabriella arrived, so I made sure I had ample time to respond to emails, review my schedule for the day, and plan accordingly.
Even though nothing was guaranteed, I felt fairly confident that she would return to work this morning with a newfound pep in her step. The two days off should have been ample time for her to clear her head and reset—and do laundry, as she so vehemently said she needed to do.
Why was she so furiously passionate about laundry?
At a quarter to nine, I looked up when someone knocked on my office door.
Gabriella.
“Come in,” I called.
She let herself in, loaded down with garment bags, a box of what appeared to be files, and a cup of coffee. She struggled over to my desk, where she set everything down before sliding the coffee to me. I picked it up and turned the cup around to read the sticker slapped on the side. It was the order I’d given her before she raged on me in the car on Friday.
I leaned back in my chair and felt a grin tugging the corners of my mouth. “You’ve come to your senses, I see. I’m glad your weekend was everything you wanted it to be and that you managed to find time to do all this.”
Gabriella’s expression remained impassive as she reached into her purse and withdrew a piece of paper folded twice, like a brochure. She handed it to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Open it.”
I unfolded the paper, which was mostly just blank space except for a short, typed message:
Mr. Cassidy,
Please consider this letter as my resignation. I’d say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.
Sincerely,
Gabi St. Clair
I looked from the letter up to Gabriella and back down at the letter. “What the hell is this?”
“Can’t you read?”
“Woman,” I growled, rising slowly from my chair, “I’ve had enough of your attitude.”
“And I’ve had enough of yours. Hence the resignation.” She folded her arms and stared down at me with a cold, matter-of-fact look in her eyes. “I spent all weekend deciding whether or not I wanted to stick this out with you, and I decided that it wasn’t worth it. I can’t sustain the level of work you demand, and I refuse to work for someone who doesn’t appreciate me, who I also find really difficult to work with. I don’t require us to be friends, but I do need you to respect me and smile—I don’t know—at least once a day.”
“I smile.”
“No, you don’t. You glare, and you growl, and you make people feel small around you. I’m constantly on eggshells whenever I’m in the same room as you, and the last two weeks have felt like hell for me. I don’t know if you enjoy putting people on pins and needles or if you’re just oblivious, but either way, I want to find something better suited for me and my needs.”
“As in a place that makes work fun?” I asked, disdain thick in my tone.
“Is that so horrible?”
I scoffed and stood, letting the resignation letter fall to the wayside. “Yes.”
“Just because you can’t fathom a workplace where people laugh and enjoy themselves doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Hard work can coincide with joy, you know.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped back. “Of all the things I just said to you, the only thing you’re getting hung up on is my personal preference to enjoy my job. I just told you how you make everyone who works for you miserable and uneasy and it’s like it went in one ear and out the other. Doesn’t it bother you even a little bit to know you’re the reason they don’t like coming here?”
My gaze slid past her and down the stairs to the deck below, where my staff worked tirelessly at their desks, most of them with their backs to me. “I compensate them well. If they’re going to let my presence spoil their good honest work for them, that isn’t my problem.”