Simi my love

Chapter 6: The mix-up

By the time Simi returned to work, the entire office was convinced she and Damilola were

dating.

"So did he kiss you while you were bedridden and vulnerable?" her coworker Bola asked

with a grin.

"No. He was being nice because I got hurt."

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," Dayo said dreamily.

"It's not romantic. He visits all his tenants when they're sick."

"Does he?" Bola looked skeptical. "Name one."

Simi couldn't, because it wasn't true, and she knew it wasn't true, and she hated that she

was starting to believe the office gossip about them.

To make matters worse, Damilola had become increasingly present at work. He'd never

been particularly involved in the day-to-day of the marketing department before, but now

he seemed to have endless reasons to stop by.

"How's the campaign coming?" he'd ask, leaning against her desk.

"Fine. On schedule."

"The brainstorm session next week—I thought I'd sit in."

"You never sit in on brainstorm sessions."

"Maybe I'm changing my habits."

This continued for two weeks until Simi finally cornered him in the supply room.

"Why are you avoiding professionalism?" she demanded.

"I'm not avoiding anything."

"You're lurking around my desk. You keep finding reasons to talk to me. Everyone in the

office is noticing."

"Maybe I like talking to you." He looked at her directly. "Is that a crime?"

"It's unprofessional."

"So is getting hit by a motorcycle, but here we are." He stepped closer. "Simi, I've tried to

maintain distance. I've tried to be professional. But I can't stop thinking about you."

Simi's breath caught. "Damilola—"

"I know about the vow. I know it makes me a complication. But I wanted you to know that

the vow is gone. You broke it."

"I didn't do anything—"

"Exactly. That's why it worked. I wasn't looking for someone who tried to be perfect for me.

I was just looking for someone real." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind

her ear. "You're real, Simi."

"This is a bad idea," she whispered.

"Probably."

"We work together."

"Not directly. You report to Christina, and I report to the board."

"We live together."

"In different houses."

"Everyone at work is already gossiping."

"Let them gossip. I'm tired of playing it safe."

He was going to kiss her. She could feel it coming like a storm. And she was going to let

him, because for the past month, all she'd been able to think about was this exact moment.

Then someone walked in.

"Oh! Sorry, I just needed—oh my God." It was Dayo, holding cleaning supplies and

wearing an expression of pure delight. "I'm leaving. I saw nothing. I heard nothing."

He backed out quickly, and within thirty seconds, the entire office probably knew that Simi

and Damilola had been in the supply room together.

Simi put her head in her hands. "Your reputation is destroyed."

"I don't have a reputation. I have money and a vow that everyone's been gossiping about

for years." He tilted her chin up. "The question is: what are you going to do now?"

Before she could answer, her phone rang. It was the recruiter at another company she'd

applied to weeks ago.

"Hi Simi! I'm calling because we'd like to make you an offer. Senior Marketing Manager

position, ■250,000 per month, starting next month."

Simi's stomach dropped.

"Can I think about it?" she managed.

"Of course! We'll need an answer by Friday."

She hung up and looked at Damilola. "I got another job offer. More money. Better title."

His face changed. She watched it happen—the moment he realized she might leave. "Are

you going to take it?"

"I don't know."

"Then let me give you one more reason to stay." He took her hand. "Go on a date with me.

This weekend. Not as landlord and tenant. Not as boss and employee. Just as two

people."

It was a terrible idea. It violated every rule she'd made for herself about professionalism

and boundaries and self-preservation.

"Okay," she said anyway.

He smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. "Wear something nice. I'm

picking you up at seven."

She did not take the other job. She spent the week agonizing over the decision and

ultimately turned down a position that offered more money and a better title, because it

would have meant leaving him.

She was officially an i***t.

Friday night, she tried on fourteen different outfits before settling on a simple black midi

dress and gold sandals. When Damilola arrived, he was wearing dark linen trousers and a

white shirt, and he looked so good that she actually gasped.

"Hi," he said, like that was a complete sentence.

"Hi."

He drove them to a restaurant in Victoria Island that she'd only ever seen in pictures—the

kind of place where the plates cost more than her monthly groceries. But he was so

attentive, asking her questions, making her laugh, telling her stories about growing up, that

she almost forgot to be nervous.

"Can I ask you something?" she said over dessert.

"Anything."

"That girl you were with. The one who made you make the vow. Do you still love her?"

He put down his spoon. "No. Not for a long time. I thought I did for a while, even after I

found out about the cheating. But then I realized that I loved the idea of loving her more

than I loved her." He looked at Simi. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes. My first boyfriend was like that for me. I thought I loved him, but really I was just in

love with not being alone."

"And now?"

She couldn't look at him when she answered. "Now I'm terrified of being alone again,

which is probably why I'm making terrible decisions about staying at a job because my

boss is charming."

He reached across the table and took her hand. "You made the right decision. But not

because I'm your boss. Because you belong here."

She looked up at him. "You sound very sure."

"I am."

As they drove back to the compound, Simi knew she'd crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

She'd already started imagining a future with him—going to movies, meeting his family, all

the small normal things that couples did.

It was going to end badly. It probably was. But for the first time in months, she didn't care.

He walked her to her door, and she thought he might kiss her again.

Instead, he said, "I want to do this right, Simi. I know it's complicated and unconventional,

but I want to take you seriously. Can we take it slow?"

She smiled, because of course he'd be the kind of man who'd want to take things slow. Of

course he'd want to do it right.

"Slow is good," she said.

He kissed her forehead—just her forehead—and left her wanting more, which was probably exactly the point.