“Feeling any better?” Wilma’s arm is around my shoulder. Her soft voice is in my ear as she rubs my back in her office. I had a full-blown emotional break down and did something I never ever imagined PA Emma would ever do. I told her everything about Jake, and how I really feel about him in a fit of blubbering sobs. Things I haven’t even told Sarah. I blame the maternal pull Wilma has over me and the darn gentle look she manages to throw my way at every opportunity. I’m using an almost empty packet of scrunched up Kleenex to mop up my mess of a face, sniffing down the last dregs of my self-esteem.

She sat and listened, and nodded, and some of the time, I saw that knowing look in her eye and assumed Margo had told her the odd tidbit of my sorrowful tale. She listened quietly, her gentle touch on me the whole time, letting me get it all out. She seems unsurprised to know I had sex with Jake. But then I guess most of New York’s single women had. His headboard’s probably run out of space to keep tally years ago. It’s not exactly a small or hard list to get on.

“A little.” I sniff, using the new tissues she’s given me to blow my nose again. I’m a complete mess.

“Sounds to me like you two have got it really bad, yet neither of you has the ability to admit it to each other.” She smiles knowingly, but I shake my head. She doesn’t know Jake the way I do. She has this so wrong in so many ways.

I don’t even know anymore, he’s just Jake. It’s all sex

like my roommate; she said the same. Jake’s complicated. He doesn’t feel the same way … He pretty much told me to leave and go to Europe.” I smile tightly, hurt. She’s no idea how much of a roller-coaster ride

a maternal figure in my life, not really. No one soothed my tears or hugged me back then. My mother was all about her pain, her drama. I was the one who smoothed back her hair and wiped her

for the rest of the week … You need some space to really digest everything. What you’ve told me is so much in such a small amount of time. Take some R and R. Don’t come in until Monday. You’re due some holidays anyway, so you won’t

begin to protest but she catches my hand

figure out if your future is in this company or in Europe.” She gives me a full body squeeze before standing up and walking to her desk from the couch where we are perched. She pours me a glass of water and brings it back to me, sitting down once more. “Go to the dance tomorrow night. I’ll see you there.

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