In the bathroom, I strip down and slide into the water. Now that I’m alone, my thoughts spiral back to yesterday, and the not-quite-a-fight that led to my frustrated resignation.

Jacob giving me a tight-jawed, clipped reminder that he needed me to get ahead on a few client files before I left for this vacation. Which I did need to do, and I knew it, but he used it as an excuse to carefully return me to the role of his assistant once again, after I overstepped and tried to talk him through not losing his shit at his baby sister.

It wasn’t the only time I waded into his family drama. I love his family, because they are an extension of him, and—

Well, that’s a useless train of thought.

I knew it last night, and I know it now. So after I finished that work at lightning speed, I typed up a resignation letter that felt like a break-up note. Then I cried as I put it on his desk, like an absolute fool.

My cheeks get hot now, thinking about it, and my eyes burn, but I refuse to cry again.

I’m a very good assistant. I will find a new job.

And if I’m not looking at the perfect shape of Jacob Lowe every single day, maybe I’ll be able to try my hand at dating.

Don’t think about his body.

Too late.

My brain hates me, because it immediately pulls up a crystal-clear snapshot of how good he looked yesterday, his suit jacket falling open, his hands shoved into his pockets…

Don’t think about—

Broad across the shoulders and lean through the hips, with abs you could bounce a gingerbread cookie on and then desperately lick up any crumbs…

I dunk my head under water to shake off the tummy-tightening memory.

Jacob is hotter than he has any right to be. But it’s important to put him behind me and move into the new year without the baggage of unrequited love.

At some point this week, I’ll have to lay the groundwork for a break-up with “Jake”, because I won’t have real life inspiration for him any longer. And, if I can bring myself to it, I might want to actually find someone real to date in the spring, instead of devoting all of my time to my boss, my most frustrating foe, and my confounding crush.

* * *

Feeling slightly more human after I blow dry my hair, I head downstairs—straight into an inquisition.

“Carina says something’s wrong,” my mother starts.

My brother frowns. “Why’d you tell her and not me?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.” I scowl at my sister, who shrugs.

Nana offers me her flask, and I take a grateful swig.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “I quit my job.”