"Why the sudden change of heart?" Edmund's face was a mask, his voice all business.

"I've let the usual office antics slide, and I've taken your jokes in stride, but when it comes to the job..." He paused, his voice softening. "In our line of work, shouldn't we think things through and then stick to what we've said?"

I could tell he was trying not to intimidate me with his tone.

Mr. Lynch, always the gentleman with a heart of gold.

My heart swelled with affection. "True, but it's you I'd miss the most."

The fingers resting on the desk gave a slight quiver.

I went on, "And there are others.

"Like Bobby, who never fails to pour my coffee. Colton, who's always treating the ladies to milk tea. Liam, who's ever ready to lend a hand and share his know-how… I'd miss them all."

Edmund's eyes narrowed a touch.

"Seems you've got a soft spot for quite a few of our guys. Fond of each one?"

Not exactly.

However, in my heart, Edmund stood out. None of the others could hold a candle to him. I kept that thought to myself, of course.

I replied, "There are women colleagues, too. I'm pretty fond of everyone, really."

He let out a derisive laugh. "I fail to see what any of these people have to do with what you've sent me.

"So what you're saying now is, with so many choices, you're thinking of playing the field a bit more?"

"Yes." I was dead serious, "I can't just put all my eggs in one basket.

"However, I can't just walk away from what we have, so I need to give it some more thought."

Edmund stayed silent, his hand balling into a fist, knuckles whitening.

Clearly, my words had hit close to home.

He was, after all, the head honcho, with a whole crew depending on him. He could not just up and leave like I could.

Even those with deep pockets have their crosses to bear.

"I can tell you're ready to let me go; every word is a dagger to the heart."

Edmund removed his glasses, reverting to his usual icy exterior.

"Leave."

"So..." I waited for his reply.

"Now that I know you're not in it, I won't lose sleep over it."

…

Edmund was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, his thoughts as elusive as a clear forecast in June.

Stepping out of the office, I realized I was the last one out.

I flicked on my phone to a flood of notifications from the work chat.

[Big Butt Mr. Lynch: Go ahead and clock out, folks. Nothing urgent. Anyone still grinding away is just kissing their vacation goodbye.]

A stream of acknowledgments and brown-nosing followed.

Those messages had buzzed in just as I was walking into the office, all with an air of urgency, practically shoving us out the door.

I tutted to myself.

No way I was vain enough to think my resignation letter would have scored us a three-day break from Edmund.

He said it was all chill, but I know the bluff. He was just itching to clear the house, probably drafting a hit list for layoffs as we spoke.

Then there was Janice. She texted me, too.

[Some idiot bolted so fast they yanked my computer cord out. Totally steamed.]

[Just gonna borrow your PC real quick to send some files, cool?]

I shot back a couple of emojis to say I was out of the office, slipping in a sly dig at Edmund while I was at it.

With my phone off, I took my sweet time packing up, mulling over my next moves.

First, I snatched back that resignation letter to secure the severance.

Second, I got Edmund to handle the dirty work and start the cuts.

Before shutting down, I hit up Google.

"How to get the head of your company to..."

That was when the blinds flew open with a snap.

I was met with a glare.

"Cecilia, you're streaming to my screen."

Crap!

…

I ran all the way home, cursing Janice a hundred times over.

"Janice, are you trying to get me killed? Why on earth would you use my computer to connect directly to Mr. Lynch's laptop?

"I almost slapped the words 'voluntary layoff' right onto his forehead!"

Janice pleaded, "I didn't cast the screen. I was worried you hadn't saved some data, so I left it on just in case. Maybe someone else accidentally touched it?"

That could be the case.

I opened the document at lightning speed. It was the piece I had written while goofing off.

Luckily, it was still there.

I set up my snacks and water, all geared up. Ready to burn the midnight oil and hit the ground running.

I would deal with the voluntary layoff and the severance package later.

Being liked had not been easy, but getting on someone's nerves was a piece of cake.

The cool night air wafted in through the window.

After a sneezing fit, my nose started running.

Another cold.

I went through tissues like water, and the trash can got full quickly.

Fighting off drowsiness, I sent out messages and files.

[Worked my tail off tonight. I'm sore all over, and now I think I've caught a cold. Could use some TLC.]

My editor and I were close, and I often chatted with her like that.

I waited for the file to arrive.

However, no luck.

With heavy eyelids, I messaged the editor again, [Is my far-off baby still mad?]

It was quite the tale.

A while back, my editor got a nasty email in the wee hours, and it upset her so much she cried to me for hours.

So, in a daze, she decided not to check her emails after dark.

She probably forgot that today was my deadline because of my constant procrastination, so she had not made an exception for me.

Yawning, I sleepily sent the new draft into the chat box.

Trying to smooth things over, I added, [Don't be mad, I've got something good for you.]

With that, I crashed.

I missed the flood of messages that came in, only to be retracted one by one.

…

The next day, well past dawn, I finally woke up.

To my surprise, I had a cold.

Janice had messaged that the whole company was meeting up for a meal.

I passed.

[Stayed up all night, I'm aching all over, and I've got a cold.]

In the company's ladies' chat, the onlookers were having a field day.

[You've only been off for half a day, and you're already going overboard. Come on, get ready to be lectured!]

[Ditching your pals for a pretty face, huh?]

[Wow, that intense? Hook me up, too!] they joked.

I just shook my head, a rueful grin on my face. Recommending those racy novels to my friends was a mistake. After that, their heads were filled with nothing but naughty thoughts.

My phone pinged again. It was Edmund, of all people.

"Feeling under the weather? Taking any meds? Better rest up."

I almost replied on impulse, but then I remembered my goal: I needed Edmund to want me gone, to be the one to cut me loose from the job.

So, I left him hanging and turned back to the group chat. I sent a cheeky voice message, [Yep, I could go another three hundred rounds.]

That set my colleagues off. They were all chatter and no filter, every other word bleep-worthy. I scrolled through their messages, laughing so hard I was a mess, rolling around on my bed.

Once I had had my fill of fun, I tried to message Edmund back.

[Done and done.]

One more time. [Done and done.]

Message not sent. The guy had blocked me.

I bolted upright. What happened? Who ticked him off?

After a quick mental replay, I messaged Janice.

[Is Mr. Lynch with you guys for dinner?]

She replied, [Yeah, he was asking about you. Told him you were too sick to leave bed.]

I could not believe it.

[He's got no heart. I'm laid up here, and he blocks me?]

[Uh oh, might be 'cause of that voice message. He might think we're playing him.]

[What voice message?]

[The 'three hundred rounds' one... I accidentally blasted it on speaker.]

I was speechless.

…

I wanted to cry but had no tears.

There was an old saying that fortune and misfortune were two sides of the same coin. Well, I had certainly made an impression.

No turning back at this point. I might as well go all in.

We had both hit the block button on each other, but I could not resist stirring the pot. I fired off a message with a bit of historical flair.

[Back when lords ruled and serfs labored, even a capitalist wouldn't have made a dime.]

The message zipped through cyberspace and landed with a ping.

When did he unblock me?

I froze for a second, then scrambled to soften the blow, [But you're not like the rest; you've got a heart for the humanities.]

The chat bubble teased me with a constant [Typing…] at the top.

It felt like an eternity before Edmund's reply popped up.

[Let him look after you. Don't worry about winning me over, we're not exactly tight.]

That confused me. I mulled it over for a hot second.

He was even shrugging off the whole boss-employee thing. Was my plan to shake up the staff actually working? I wondered.

Then he hit me with another message.

[If you're under the weather, take it easy and let him nurse you back to health.]

[I'm done sending messages.]

…

'Him'?

I chewed on that for a beat and ventured, [Who? My place is empty right now.]

Then the phone rang.

Edmund sounded like he was on the move, the wind howling in the background.

It settled down after a moment.

His tone was dead serious. "Cecilia, what are you getting at?"

I straightened up, startled. "What do you mean?"

"You said your place is empty 'right now.' What's with the 'right now'?"

I glanced around, a shiver running down my spine. I dove under the covers, my voice tinged with uncertainty, "Am I supposed to have someone here?"

"And what about last night?" he asked.

"Empty then, too."

Silence hung on the line.

I racked my brain.

The 'three hundred rounds'...

I snapped to and blurted a hasty excuse: "I was just talking crazy. You know, grown-up banter...

"We've known each other for ages, and you know I'm not that liberated..."

Edmund's voice came through, skeptical, "Maybe, maybe not."

A sigh, laced with the crackle of static, drifted from the phone's earpiece.

I insisted, "You've got to trust me."

Silence greeted me once more.

Trying to get that across to Edmund felt oddly surreal. I was on the verge of just hanging up, putting an end to the discomfort.

Then, a gentle voice broke through, "Should I come over?"

A shiver of excitement shot from my toes to my spine, an odd and ticklish sensation.

"Nobody was home last night, and it's the same now. I guess I could come over, right?

"If it's not a good time, though, just say so..."

It would not matter if someone was home; he could still visit.

My grip on the phone tightened, my palm damp with sweat.

Edmund's voice, puzzled, "Hmm?"

I managed a dazed, "Oh... sure."

…

Perhaps it was his kind heart that kept him on the line. "How bad is it? Why the silence?" he asked.

After a long pause, I managed, "Gotta watch the road."

"Talking to you matters, too." His words caught me off guard, sending a flutter through my chest, my heartbeat pounding loud enough I feared he would hear.

I buried myself under the covers, seeking silence.

Memories cascaded through my thoughts.

I was one of the first to join the company.

However, despite the years, he had never introduced a girlfriend to us.

He was gentle, good-looking, and fit. Surely he would be a catch anywhere.

Why was he still single?

"Edmund, have you ever dated?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Didn't you have some grand college romance?"

"No."

"I don't buy it."

His light laugh came through. "What's on your mind, really?"

"Just wondering. Your family's place–is it far from here?" I asked.

"Are you digging into my past? It's close by. Want to check it out?"

I pondered our familiarity, feeling a bit perplexed.

I peeked out and sneezed.

I snuggled deeper into the covers. "Edmund, something's off with you today."

"That so?" His voice was light, almost chipper, as if he was in high spirits.

All that, and his last text had been laced with sarcasm.

Men were nothing if not enigmas.

Wrapped snugly in the soft blanket, drowsiness crept over me.

"When are you getting here? You're taking forever...

"Don't bother coming. I don't feel like getting up to open the door."

Edmund's laughter rang out again. "Okay, I'll speed up."

Maybe it was the sickness talking, but I was rambling.

"When you asked if I'd taken my meds, I answered, but you'd already blocked me."