More Than My Boss

Cracks in the Perfect Picture

By morning, everything felt normal again.

Or at least… it looked normal.

Emails. Meetings. Coffee runs. The steady rhythm of a workday that didn’t leave room for overthinking.

Which was good.

Because if I let myself think about last night—about the way his hand had brushed mine, about the silence that followed, about the fact that neither of us had said a word about it—

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to function at all.

So I didn’t think about it.

I buried it.

Filed it away under things that didn’t mean anything.

“Abby, quick question—do you have the revised numbers from yesterday?”

I glanced up from my desk to see Katie walking toward me, phone in hand, expression bright and focused like always.

Like nothing in her world had shifted even slightly.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling the file up on my screen. “I updated everything last night. I can send it over.”

“Perfect.” She smiled. “You’re a lifesaver, as usual.”

I returned the smile automatically, fingers already moving across the keyboard.

Normal.

Everything was normal.

“You stayed late with Ethan, right?” she added casually.

My hands paused for half a second.

Too long.

I forced them to move again. “Yeah. We needed to clean up the pitch deck.”

“Mm.” She glanced down at her phone, distracted. “He didn’t get home until after midnight.”

Something about the way she said it—offhand, uninterested—sat wrong with me.

“I figured you’d both be exhausted today,” she continued. “He gets so intense about these things.”

There was no irritation in her voice.

No curiosity.

No… anything.

Just observation.

I hit send on the email, my chest tightening slightly. “It was important.”

“It always is with him,” she said lightly.

And that was it.

No follow-up questions.

No teasing.

No interest in the fact that her boyfriend had spent hours alone with another woman.

With me.

I wasn’t sure why that bothered me.

But it did.

“Anyway,” she said, straightening, “I’m heading into a call. I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah. Later.”

I watched her walk away, something unsettled lingering in my chest.

Because if the roles were reversed—

I would’ve asked.

I would’ve wanted to know everything.

“Abby.”

I didn’t have to look up to know it was him.

I felt it.

Which was… not something I wanted to examine too closely.

“Morning,” I said, keeping my tone even as I finally lifted my gaze.

Ethan stood on the other side of my desk, already in work mode—sharp suit, composed expression, every inch the CEO.

Like last night hadn’t happened.

Like nothing had shifted.

“Morning,” he said.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Neither of us mentioning it.

Of course we weren’t.

“We’ve got a ten o’clock with the Larson group,” I said, turning slightly to grab my tablet. “I finalized the deck. It’s ready to go.”

“I saw,” he said. “It looks good.”

Professional.

Clean.

Safe.

I nodded. “Anything else you need before the meeting?”

His gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second too long.

“No,” he said finally. “That should be it.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Like last night hadn’t existed.

Like that moment—

That almost—

Hadn’t mattered at all.

I swallowed, forcing myself to focus on my screen again.

That was better.

Safer.

This was what we were supposed to be.

The meeting went perfectly.

Of course it did.

Ethan was sharp, controlled, completely in command of the room. Katie was just as strong—confident, persuasive, effortless in a way that made people lean in when she spoke.

They worked well together.

Too well.

Like a perfectly aligned machine.

I sat slightly off to the side, taking notes, tracking reactions, stepping in only when needed.

Invisible.

Essential.

Replaceable.

I hated that thought the second it crossed my mind.

Because it wasn’t true.

He’d said as much last night.

You already have your place here.

My chest tightened.

I shouldn’t be holding onto that.

I shouldn’t be holding onto anything from last night.

“Abby?”

I blinked, realizing the room had gone quiet.

Three pairs of eyes were on me.

Ethan. Katie. The client.

“I’m sorry—could you repeat that?” I asked, straightening slightly.

The client smiled politely. “We were asking about the revised rollout timeline.”

“Of course.” I nodded, pulling it up immediately. “We adjusted phase one to start two weeks earlier—based on your team’s feedback yesterday. That gives us a longer optimization window before launch.”

As I spoke, I felt it.

Ethan’s attention.

Steady.

Focused.

Not on the presentation.

On me.

I didn’t look at him.

I couldn’t.

Not without risking—

“Well done,” the client said, nodding. “That’s exactly what we were hoping for.”

“Thank you,” I replied, keeping my tone calm, even as something inside me shifted again.

Because this—

This was what I was good at.

This was where I belonged.

Even if the rest of it… didn’t make sense.

After the meeting, everything blurred back into motion.

Handshakes. Follow-ups. Conversations overlapping as people filtered out of the room.

I gathered my things quickly, ready to slip out before I had to think too much about anything.

“Abby.”

I paused.

Of course.

I turned slowly.

Ethan stood a few feet away, Katie just behind him, checking something on her phone.

“You did great in there,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied.

Simple.

Professional.

Safe.

Katie glanced up then, smiling. “She always does. I keep telling you, we’d fall apart without her.”

There it was again.

That same line.

Only this time, it landed differently.

Ethan’s gaze shifted briefly to Katie.

Then back to me.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We would.”

Something in his tone made my pulse jump.

Katie didn’t seem to notice.

Or if she did—

She didn’t react.

“I’ve got another call,” she said, already stepping away. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said.

She didn’t kiss him.

Didn’t linger.

Didn’t even really look at him as she walked out of the room.

And for the first time—

I saw it clearly.

Not perfect.

Not effortless.

Not what I’d built it up to be in my head.

Just… convenient.

My breath caught slightly.

Because that changed things.

Or maybe it didn’t.

Maybe it just made them more dangerous.

“Abby.”

I looked back at him.

He was closer now.

Too close for a conversation that was supposed to be professional.

“You should take the rest of the afternoon,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

“I’m fine,” I replied automatically.

“I know you are,” he said. “That’s not the point.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time.”

There it was again.

That line he kept crossing.

That space between professional and personal.

“I’m not pushing,” I said quietly.

“You are.”

His voice wasn’t sharp.

Just certain.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because it meant he was paying attention.

Too much attention.

“I just like my job,” I said.

His gaze held mine.

“For me?”

The question landed before I could stop it.

Before I could take it back.

Before I could pretend I hadn’t just crossed a line of my own.

The silence that followed was immediate.

Heavy.

His expression shifted—just slightly.

Not shock.

Not confusion.

Something else.

Something I couldn’t quite name.

But I felt it.

All the same.