34: W. E. P.

The shoebox on my table was the first thing I spotted once I opened my office door. I tiptoed inside and dropped my handbag on the chair. I could almost tell who it came from, and I wasn’t disappointed when I opened it to a note with my boss’ initials. No message. Just W.E.P. I shut the box without removing the shoe to check if it fitted. It was the same pair from the day I sprained my ankle. This one was brand new. Oh, Waylen.

I darted a look at the glass wall separating our offices and frowned. My reflection stared back at me. That wasn’t right. I should see into his office, not myself. I edged closer to the wall and curved my hand around it, but my eyes stared back at me.

Waylen changed it. I stormed to his door and took a deep breath. He was still my boss. Whatever happened last week didn’t make us friends or lovers.

After a quick succession of knocks on Waylen’s door, I opened it when I got no reply. His scent hung heavy in the