I Quit My Job Twenty-One Times And He Packed Her Shirt Chapter 06

I Quit My Job Twenty-One Times And He Packed Her Shirt Chapter 06

She attached a short video clip. Julian was pacing aimlessly through the corridors of our New York

headquarters, with a helpless–looking Chloe trailing behind him.

“Julian, what’s the point of asking around here?” she pleaded in the video. “Just come home with me.”

Julian whirled around, glaring at her with pure venom before shoving her away. “I’m looking for my girlfriend!

What the hell does it have to do with you? Back off!”

I sighed heavily and closed the clip. “Linda, I’ll text him right now and clear this up.” “Thanks, appreciate it,”

she replied before hanging up.

I pulled up his chat and fired off a message: [Stop throwing a psychotic tantrum at my workplace.]

His response popped up almost instantly.

[Rachel, I already backed out of the relocation assignment. I officially declined it.]

[Just tell me your address. I’ll pack my bags and come to you. Let me be the one to follow you around this

time, please?] His words practically begged.

But looking at the screen, I felt absolutely nothing. If anything, I felt annoyed.

It turned out he had always known exactly what I wanted. I just needed him to choose me–just once.

[Don’t bother.] I texted back. [Where you go and who you go with has absolutely nothing to do with me

anymore.]

[And stop making a scene at my office. It’s embarrassing, Julian. Seriously.]

The blatant disgust in my words must have cut deep.

Because once upon a time, whenever his projects failed, I was the one staying up all night to comfort him.

When executives threatened to fire him, I was the one who rebuilt his confidence and helped him start fresh.

But now, I was calling him an embarrassment.

[If you cause another scene at the office, I’ll have Linda call the police.]

I locked my screen and took a deep breath, turning my attention to a fresh bouquet of peonies sitting on my desk. They had been delivered that morning, morning dew still clinging to the petals.

Over the next few days, Linda didn’t bring up Julian again, and my schedule became packed.

I was constantly running between corporate project sites and managing demanding corporate clients. Some nights, I was so drained I passed out before even washing my face.

On a particularly warm afternoon, my phone rang with an unfamiliar local number.

“Hi, is this Ms. Johnson? Are you Julian’s girlfriend?” a voice asked.

“He’s completely wasted at our bar, and right before he passed out, he begged us to call this number.”

“Is there any way you can come pick him up?”

I pressed my lips together as my mind wandered back to the past.

When we first started building our careers in the city, Julian attended endless corporate dinners. To land

major accounts, he would drink himself into oblivion night after night.

Back then, no matter how late it got, I would always be waiting patiently outside the venue to drive him

home.

Later, when he started traveling for work, I would always show up at the arrivals terminal, regardless of how

early or late his flight landed.

But this time, I didn’t hesitate for a single second.

“I’m sorry, I’m not in New York right now,” I said coldly. “You can call his little mentee listed under his

contacts. Her name is Chloe.”

Before the bartender could reply, Julian’s slurred, muddled voice cut in. “No… don’t call Chloe…”

He clumsily snatched the phone away, his tone sounding incredibly pathetic.

“Rachel… are you really throwing me away?”

“I drank way too much… my stomach hurts so bad. I just want a bowl of that hangover soup you make for

me.”

“Rachel, please come get me. I’ll wait right here for you, no matter how long it takes.”

Julian had chronic, severe stomach ulcers.

Yet, listening to him now, my heart didn’t soften even a fraction. Instead, I pulled up Chloe’s contact info and

sent her a text.

[Julian is entirely wasted at the bar down the street from your office. Go pick him up.]