Autumn - In Love With My Boss (An Office Romance)| Completed

Chapter 38 - Autumn

Freshly showered and covered by the smooth fleece of my winter PJs, I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the steaming cup of hot tea in front of me, watching the hot air escape in thick geometric lines. As much as I try, I can't wrap my head around what has happened within the last weeks. It all seems so far away, almost surreal, and yet, my stomach reminds me of the fact that everything that happened is very much part of reality. It clenches tightly, every time I think of my boss's face, his smile, his touch, and the sorrow I can see in his eyes every time I look at him.

It's been two weeks now, and still no sign of his daughter. I wish I could just tell him that I'm there for him, I want to let him know that I'm thinking of him, and that he is not alone in all of this. But I can't just pick up the phone and call him to do just that, right?

Hm.

The more I contemplate that idea, the more I think, hey, why the hell not? In a situation like this, I would like to have someone tell me exactly that. When my parents died, I really longed to hear uplifting, supportive words, but unfortunately, there was no one around who would have shared in my grief. Do I want to make him feel lonely like that, too? No, definitely not.

I grab my phone that is waiting for me on the end table by the door and search through my contacts until I find his number. I'm just about to hit call when a soft knock on my door startles me to death. I glance at the clock in the upper right corner of my phone's display. 10:27. Who is visiting me this late?

With a pounding heart in my chest, I open the door just so much that I can peek out. There, leaning against the doorframe, is my boss.

Now, I swing the door open, and without thinking what I'm doing, I fly into his arms.

He looks surprised about my enthusiastic welcome, since he seems frozen to the ground for a second, but then his arms wrap tightly around me.

"I'm so sorry." I have said those words numerous times to him before, but I do mean them.

"Thank you," he whispers and walks us into my living room, not loosening his grip.

The door slams shut behind him as he gives it a good kick.

"I was about to call you," I confess.

He kisses my ear gently before he lets go of me.

"Sorry for barging in so late," he apologizes.

"Don't be. I'm glad you're here."

He smiles at my words and I swear I can see a lonely tear sparkle in the corner of his eye.

"I just ..." His voice fails him, so the words he intended to say remain unspoken.

Involuntarily, my fingers find his cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, and only now do I realize that he is not wearing a coat to protect him from the freezing winter air. He's only wearing a shirt.

Softly, I stroke his cheek, and he leans into my hand, thankful for this little gesture.

"Come," I whisper as I lead him to the sofa. "Sit down. I'll fix you a warm drink. And you must be starving."

I hand him my yellow plush blanket and make my way into the kitchen, where I prepare some tea and a small bowl of chicken soup for him. I place the bowl, his and my cup, which by now has considerably cooled off, on a tray and return to the couch.

He hasn't moved an inch. With the blanket still in his hands, as if unsure what to do with it, he stares into space. Carefully I put the tray onto the coffee table and take a seat next to him.

"Here," I smile, handing him the bowl.

His eyes linger on it for a moment, then they search for mine. "Thanks, Autumn, but I'm not really hungry."