The Weight of Love: An Age Gap Instant Attraction Forbidden Romance by Emily Anne James

Author:Emily Anne James [James, Emily Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-04-08T18:30:00+00:00

Weeks have passed since we hooked up in the gym. He barely responds to texts. I am miserable, and I can’t figure out what to do about him for the life of me. He’s plaguing my thoughts constantly.

I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve totally caught feelings for the guy, and now he’s actually crushing them. This is why we are supposed to avoid adopting puppies, Dummy!

“Stella, where are you over there? Daydreaming about your Puppy?” Johnathan throws a balled-up paper across the conference room, bouncing it off my head.

It isn’t the first time he’s caught me zoning out. It was becoming a bad habit. I just can’t seem to quit thinking about Clark.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“The usual, Leslie.”

Emily sighed, looking back from Johnathan to me.

“It’s the same conversation we have every time. His compulsions are worsening, but he is also a genius with the code. Can we afford the five developers we would need to get close to matching his productivity?”

Johnathan grumbles, knowing she’s right.

“Can we legally require him to get help, Em?”

“Not really.”

“Damn. Honestly, I am worried that with help, he’ll lose his version of The Shine, so maybe no help after all.”

“You’re awful.” “Totally, but I’m also factual. His brilliance comes from how close he flirts with insanity. They go hand in hand with his worst moments. Did I tell you what he did yesterday?”

Both of them shake their heads at me in curiosity.

“Oh man, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Yesterday, I was leaving late when I noticed the light still on in that cubicle he calls a nest.”

They both nod in understanding, familiar with the scenario.

“As I walk around the corner, there he is,” I continue, painting the picture for them. “Perched up in his chair, legs pulled up, totally engrossed in coding. Looked just like Gollum.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I asked him what he was working on.” I shake my head, still in disbelief. “He’s coding a new program. It’s designed to send automated alerts to the entire office the next time someone moves his action figures. And get this—it’ll sound an alert every hour, on the hour, until the ‘culprit’ comes forward.”

Their reactions mirrored mine at the time: a mix of concern and sheer exasperation at the absurdity of a grown man, nearly sixty, setting alarms over action figures.

“Then, he gives me this look, straight in the eyes,” I add for effect, lowering my voice to mimic his, “‘They’re my preciouses…’ he says, and just turns back to his screen.”

The conversation shifts back around to questions about me and my ‘bench,’ but I don’t want to have to admit to my friends that there isn’t one. For the first time in over a year, I don’t have an active roster of men at my disposal. Clark has entirely ruined my streak of casual sex.

They ask about my Thanksgiving plans, but I tell them I don’t have the kids this year. I plan to go to the gym, eat pie, and sleep—preferably in that order.

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