The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss (Curvy Girl Crew #7)

Chapter 24

-Peter-

I was loathe to put myself in Marissa’s direct path again, but she’d been near hysterical when the sprinklers had gone off, and I knew if anyone else escorted her out she wouldn’t stop. So I made the sacrifice and wheeled her around the laughing, crying masses toward the lobby.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Marissa pointed in the opposite direction to a door that led to the restrooms.

How that would work with her in a cast up to her hip I didn’t know, but ever since Aunt Mei had made me incredibly uncomfortable about it, I’d learned not to question a woman when she said she needed a toilet. So I diverted our course.

At some point, Marissa had stopped hyperventilating and was now breathing normally.

No one liked to be manipulated, but on a scale from one to ten, I hated it all the way to a twenty. It was difficult enough for me to figure out how to act in social situations, and when people threw curveballs at me, I felt shame, got embarrassed, and ended up angry.

Marissa knew this. Then why did I feel like she’d planned to end up with me alone in this hallway?

“Go around that corner.” She pointed.

I did as she said, wondering if there was a handicap restroom that I hadn’t noticed before.

The more distance we put between us and the ballroom, the quieter it got, and by the time I turned the indicated corner, I could barely hear the firetruck sirens that must be approaching.

My fingers flexed around the grips on the wheelchair. “I need to get back.”

“They can handle it,” Marissa said.

I stopped pushing. “Marissa, I’m in charge.”

“Jessica can handle it.”

“She shouldn’t have to.”

Marissa used her hands to turn the wheels of the chair, and she swiveled in place. Her cast leg came around in a wide arc, and I had to step back to avoid being hit by it.

The skill with which she maneuvered the chair irritated me. She was clearly familiar with the process, and this couldn’t be her first time in one. So why had she been acting so helpless?

“How are you and Jessica getting along?” Marissa asked abruptly.

I hadn’t expected Marissa to be here, and each of our interactions took me farther and farther away from the scenarios I’d gone over for the day.

This question came from left field, and I felt my frown deepen. Was Marissa looking for a particular answer? Was she worried about me? About Jessica having to deal with me? Or was it something else? I gave an honest, if somewhat incomplete, answer. “She’s been invaluable this past week.”

Marissa snorted. The short sprinkler soaking we’d gotten had taken the glamorous edge off Marissa’s appearance. A few of her auburn curls had wilted, and some of her makeup was now splotchy. Instead of the perfectly manicured woman, I could tell Marissa was both in pain and hurting emotionally.

My answer about Jessica pulled Marissa’s eyebrows together, and she scowled. “Invaluable?”

I was apparently on rocky ground, and I didn’t know why, so I kept my answer to a single word. “Yes.”

Marissa closed her eyes and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

In an attempt to keep whatever was brewing inside of her from coming out, I said, “I should get you to the bathroom.”

“No!” Marissa flung the word from her mouth, and it barreled into me, causing me to take a step back but leaving me unable to move after she pinned me in place with a furious gaze.

Marissa’s nostrils flared. “She’s not the one for you.”

It took me a moment to rewind the conversation. Marissa was referring to Jessica.

A sinking feeling dragged my stomach down, and I wondered if Marissa had somehow found out that Jessica and I were…

What were we? Not dating, but there was certainly interest on my part.

And hers.

Marissa’s eyes never left mine. “She doesn’t understand you.”

While I wanted to protest and tell Marissa that Jessica, thus far, understood me better than any woman ever had, I needed the topic of this conversation to change.

“Marissa,” I said slowly, “I should get back to the party. People are worried, and we have no idea what the fire department is going to say or do when they get here.”

For the first time, Marissa’s furious expression softened.

I went on. “I need to manage this. You know that.”

“Let me do it.” She reached out for my hand. I was close enough that she managed to grasp my fingers before I could pull away. “You know I’m good with people.” Her voice trembled.

I tried to disentangle myself from her as I spoke. “Marissa, you’re brave and good to be here, but you must be in a lot of pain. There will be more chaos, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

Marissa’s eyes went from stormy to glistening with tears in a moment. “Oh Peter, you’re always so good about caring for me.” Her grip tightened, and my fingers began to ache.

This conversation was so far away from anything I ever thought I’d have with Marissa that I had no idea where to go from here. All I had was the goal of getting her out and getting me back to the party. So I patted her hand. “Let me find you a ride home.”

“You could take me.” She still refused to let go.

“I don’t have a car, and I doubt you can take the train.”

“I could do the train.” Hope like a kid who was trying to get their parents to buy them something shone in her eyes.

What was going on? My brain couldn’t keep up, and I was almost out of patience. I had things to be doing, and Marissa was in the way of me doing them.

“Absolutely not,” I said in response to her taking the train.

The adoration in her gaze returned, and another sinking feeling filled me.

Marissa had been like this when we’d briefly dated after college. It had taken a full-blown fight to get her to stop.

I didn’t have the time or the emotional bandwidth for this right now. So I pulled my grumpy boss persona around me and frowned down at her. “Marissa, I’m going to call you a wheelchair van to take you home. You’re going to get in the van without complaint.” I pointed toward the lobby. “In the meantime, I need to do damage control.”

Tears continued to glisten in Marissa’s eyes. “You never talk to Jessica like this.”

Because Jessica doesn’t push me like this.

I kept the words to myself and my expression in place. “This isn’t about Jessica.”

“You’re right, it’s about us.” Marissa’s voice grew in volume. “It’s about you and me.” Her grip somehow tightened even more, and I had to resist violently pulling away from her. “You keep denying what’s between us.”

The room seemed to tilt sideways. I’d always worried that she still had feelings for me. I’d done my best to ignore or halt any of her advances since we’d officially broken up.

Things had been fine between us for years. Why now? What had happened?

Did she know about Jessica and me? If so, how?

Marissa tried to pull me toward her. I refused to move. Her lower lip thrust out in a pout. “I know you don’t have feelings like other people, and maybe that’s why you keep running away from us.”

I shook my head and spoke slowly. “There is no us, Marissa.”

“Yes, there is,” she hissed. “There always has been.”

“No.” This conversation could only end one way, and I had to get to that conclusion as quickly as possible.

“Peter.” My name was a plea on her lips. “We’ve always been close.”

“We haven’t,” I fired back. How long before I ripped my hand from hers?

“Yes, we have.” She smiled, but instead of being filled with light like it should be, it completed a sinister expression that I’d never seen before from Marissa. “I’m all you have.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, other than calling her delusional, so I kept my teeth clamped shut.

“We’re meant to be together.” She reached out her other hand to grab my arm on the side she was already holding. “Peter, I’ve loved you since we were kids. Since the first time I saw you.”

A throb started at the base of my skull, and the walls seemed to be pressing in on me. I had imagined this conversation before, and it had never turned out well.

Marissa’s smile widened, and tears were now streaming down her cheeks. “Underneath the grumpy exterior, you’re fragile, like a child.”

I’d never expected that to come from Marissa, and my brain got stuck on the fact that she thought I was childlike.

Marissa went on. “But I help you. All the time.”

She had assisted me with things over the years, but it was always work items. It had never been romantic.

“I complete you.”

Those words slapped me out of the shock I’d been feeling.

Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing about Jessica? It felt true for Jessica and the opposite for Marissa.

The only thing Marissa did was make my life more difficult.

“You know it,” Marissa said in a whisper.

I took several deep breaths before I spoke. “No.”

“Yes.” Marissa was weeping in earnest now.

“No, Marissa.” I yanked hard and pulled my arm free of her grasp.

Her jaw hinged open, and a look of true hurt crossed her face. “Yes!” Her voice grew in volume again. “You’re mine!”

I was stuck on one-word answers. “No.”

Marissa jabbed her thumb at her chest. “I’ve done everything for you!”

I said nothing.

“You said you didn’t like curvy girls, so I lost weight. You said you loved investments and business, so I went into investments and business.” Her words were getting lost in the sobs now. “You said you loved sushi, so I said I loved sushi!” Marissa practically screamed the last one. “I hate sushi! It’s disgusting!”

Each accusation hit me so hard I had to step back.

“You have to love me,” Marissa said. “You have to!”

I shook my head. Any semblance of decorum and polite conversation flew from my mind. I only had the truth left. “I don’t.”

“You have to!” More tears. More shrill words.

I took another step away.

“I haven’t had ice cream in fifteen years because of you! I stopped eating because of you! I gave up my dream of being a park ranger for you!”

My insides began to ache, and shame brought sweat to my palms. “I never asked you to do any of that,” I said quietly.

“You didn’t have to!” Marissa shouted. “I did it because I loved you!”

This had to stop. My mind was reeling, and if I didn’t get away from this, I was going to explode. So I spoke to a woman whom I’d known and respected since I was an early teen in a tone that my aunt would not be proud of. “I don’t love you, Marissa.”

She reeled back in her chair.

“I’ve never loved you.”

Fury, despair, and a sneer consumed Marissa’s face. “Do you know that Jessica is good friends with the people at her favorite coffee shop? She’s hung out with them. Gone to the movies. All sorts of things.”

“So?”

“So now you get her coffee every day, and she hasn’t seen them in a week.” Marissa’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “What else has she given up for you?”

I blinked, not really understanding the question.

“Apparently, all you do is make people change for you.” Marissa snapped. “And you’re too emotionally distant to notice.”

Had Jessica changed for me? Had I unconsciously asked her to?

I remembered our later teenage years when Marissa had been admitted to a clinic for an eating disorder.

Had that been my fault?

What had I missed in our interactions that had led Marissa to that?

The throb in my head reverberated through my whole body, and the all too familiar ache of shame spiked.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t fix this. The only thing I could do was walk away.

So I did.