The Gift of Love Read Online Free Page B

praise from the members of the partnership committee. The congratulations from his girlfriend.
    Wait. No, he’d never talked to Allison. She hadn’t shown up at the bar to celebrate, either. He should call her again.
    The doorbell ringing interrupted his fumbling for his cell. He looked out the peephole and saw a guy in jeans and a sweatshirt with the words “Break Up or Make Up” and two hearts, one whole, one broken in two, splashed across the front. He was holding a large manila envelope.
    When he opened the door the man said, “Are you ...” He consulted the envelope, then said, “Teej?”
    Allison was the only person who called him Teej. This had to be from her. Maybe this was her way of congratulating him on his success.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes having a bit of trouble focusing on the man in front of him. “My girlfriend calls me Teej.”
    “Okay, then, I have a delivery for you.” He handed over the envelope he was holding.
    “What is it?” Taylor asked.
    “Don’t know. Only know it’s for you. Sign here.” The delivery man held out a clipboard, and Taylor scrawled an indecipherable signature at the bottom of the form. “Thanks. Have a good one.” The young man disappeared down the hall toward the elevator.
    What the hell is this all about?
Taylor stood in his doorway looking at the envelope for longer than he should have. In his half-buzzed state, it seemed important he figure it out before he opened it. But he wasn’t having any success, so he closed the front door and went back to his living room.
    Returning to his favorite chair, he squeezed the envelope.
Hmm. Nothing lumpy or bumpy. So probably not a pipe bomb.
Not that he’d know what a pipe bomb felt like. Besides, if it was for Teej, it had to be from Allison and it wasn’t likely she would send a pipe bomb anyway. An exploding device wouldn’t be a good way to congratulate him, would it?
    He turned the envelope around so he could see the return address.
Portland? Why would she be sending something from Portland? It must not be about my CloudCo success. She wouldn’t have had enough time to get something here from Portland in the last couple hours, would she?
Moving the envelope back and forth like a trombone slide, he tried to read the name of the company, which was slightly smeared—probably from the light rain he had noticed when he left the bar. It looked like it said “Break Up or Make Up.”
Hmm. That’s the name the delivery guy had on his sweatshirt. Weird name for a company. Wonder what they do?
    Finally giving up on figuring it out, he grabbed the gadget he used to slice envelopes and opened it. Inside was a single page letter.
    Dear Teej:
    I know you’re going to be hurt and angry about the contents of this letter and even angrier at how I’m choosing to get the message to you, but I’m desperate. I haven’t been able to have a decent conversation with you in months about anything, much less something important. And it’s past time for me—for us—to stop pretending everything’s going well with our relationship.
    Relationship? Who am I kidding? E-mails and texts between people who live two miles away from each other don’t make a relationship. A relationship happens when people care about each other enough to make time for each other. For the past six months—for half of the time we’ve been seeing each other—your job has trumped everything personal. I know how much you want to make partner and why the CloudCo project is important. I have big projects and goals, too, yet I still have room in my life for someone I care for. You don’t.
    It’s been obvious to me for months, we need to break this off. You probably would see it, too, if you were less focused on your work.
    I’ve learned through counseling how important it is for me to get out of this stressful situation—yes, that’s what it has become, a stressful situation, not a relationship. Craig recommended this company in Portland. They’ve helped