Doubt that she was making the right choice.
This time, she experienced the expected first and second emotion, and she braced herself for the third. It was always the worst.
But the doubt never came. She was making the right decision in leaving. There was no “maybe” this time. She’d enjoyed her time at Brayburn, save for the painful last day, but she’d never belonged here. She’d never invested herself, never let it define her, never let herself excel.
Sophie had nothing but respect for assistants and corporate staff of all natures, because it was a hell of a lot harder than people knew. But it wasn’t her passion. It was time to move on.
The past weeks since leaving Brayburn had been the most enlightened of Sophie’s life. It had been painful to realize that her chronic job-hopping had never been about spontaneity and following her heart. It had merely been a method of avoiding herself.
She’d spent years su
rfing on a wave of ambiguity over what to do with her life, which she should have tackled after graduation. But instead, she’d just avoided it. By never investing in anything, she could never be accused of failing. Never be disappointed.
But no more. It hadn’t taken much reflection to realize that she didn’t like office buildings and paperwork and suits. Didn’t like staplers or copy machines or multi-line phones. Hell, aesthetics aside, she didn’t even really like high-heeled shoes.
The only aspect she’d liked about this environment had been the people. Sophie loved people. She loved watching them, talking with them, learning them. And she could admit now that she was damn good with them. The highlight of her time at Brayburn had been discovering what made people like the Blackwells tick. Seeing them as people instead of clients. As personalities instead of customers.
People were her passion, and she knew in her gut that this new insight was her path to true job satisfaction.
Granted, she still didn’t know exactly what that meant career-wise. Therapist, milkman, teacher?
But she had a little money saved up. Enough to provide a financial buffer while she figured it out. She’d gotten so adept at not being what other people expected her to be, that she’d failed to figure out what she wanted to be.
Stepping off the elevator, Sophie took a deep breath. This was the part she’d been dreading. Seeing Gray’s office again. Seeing the place of his first smile, their first fight, their first kiss.
Their last words.
Refusing to look toward Gray’s darkened office, Sophie marched to her desk with a mission.
Grab the box and get out. Fast.
She took a quick glance through the contents of the box. The potted orchid that Brynn had bought her, which Sophie had barely managed to keep alive. A condom from Will, “just in case.” A picture of her family. Some sort of fancy pen from her father that Sophie had never used for fear of losing or breaking it.
Her hand hesitated as she picked up the last item. It was the small bowl of creamers she kept at her desk to ensure Gray’s coffee was always perfect. She cringed, remembering how much she’d treasured his small half smiles when she’d gotten it just right.
She shook her head in shame. How could she have been so foolish? All that effort she’d put into pleasing the man, and the entire time he’d merely been seeing a competent secretary. A replaceable one, apparently.
Sophie had been stupidly trying to win a smile from Gray, when really all he’d expected was that she earn her paycheck from Mr. Wyatt.
Sophie stared down at the small packages of half-and-half. They seemed to represent everything that had been wrong about the pseudo-relationship. She pulled the garbage can out from under the desk and, with slow purpose, turned the delicate glass bowl upside down, listening as the small plastic containers crashed into the trash can.
“Ms. Dalton. Is that company property you’re disposing of?”
The glass bowl slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor as she spun around with a shriek.
She should have been prepared for this. Of course, Gray would be here. Their entire relationship had been based on a series of coincidental meetings. It made sense that their final meeting would be yet another disastrous accident.
“Working on a Saturday night is pathetic, even for you,” she said with as much disdain as her thudding heart would allow.
Gray stood framed against his office door, arms crossed. She wished he were wearing a suit so she could distance herself from the CEO. But his dark jeans and casual gray shirt made her long for the man, not the employer.
“I’m not working tonight,” he said.
“So you’re just here hanging out?” she asked breezily. “I suppose that makes sense. At least in the office you have the occasional janitorial visit. At home you’re merely alone.”
She didn’t know where the cold words came from. It was as if cruelty was the only way of keeping her heart from shattering. He said nothing, just looked at her with unreadable gray eyes.
“Did Beth tell you I was coming by?” she asked tentatively, confused by his intense gaze.