Page 48 of Tempted By the Bosshole

She laughs. “I don’t need the calories, but if you have a single friend…”

“He’ll be my age.”

“Good. Izzy has convinced me that I need to expand my dating pool.”

I laugh. “You got it.”

The moment we hang up, I leave the mall, find the perfect little shop to help me make my wife smile, then pick up some groceries and head home. I glance at my watch and swear under my breath. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. I’ve left her alone on one of the hardest days of the year.

Never again.

“Isabella?” I call out as soon as I open the door.

“In here,” she croaks.

I cross the floor and find her in the living room, curled up in a blanket and downing a package of store-bought cookies, with a messy bun, a red nose, and puffy eyes while Die Hard explodes from the big screen above the fireplace.

Jen called it.

“Baby girl…” I drop my packages on the coffee table, take the cookies from her cold fingers, and drag her onto my lap. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone today.”

“You have a life.”

She’s not wrong, but her voice is small. The sadness I hear hurts. “I’m back. I won’t leave you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Look at me.” I cup her cheeks until she does.

Instantly, she tears up. “I’m not usually good today. I’ll be okay by midweek.”

And miss Christmas? No. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

The tears start rolling down her face. “How did you?—”

“I called Jen.”

“And she told you.” Isabella presses her lips together and brushes the tears from her face. “Traitor.”

“She’s an amazing friend.”

“The best.” My wife starts crying again.

I wrap my arms around her tighter and hold her trembling body close as I press the remote to turn on the fireplace. “Tell me what happened?”

She shakes her head.

“Please.” That’s not a word I use often. “I want to understand, and I can’t until you explain.”

“Why? There’s nothing you can do.”

“Maybe not, but you’re my wife. I told you, I take care of what’s mine.”

She blows out a long breath, like she’s too tired to fight me. “Early that morning, Mom went to the mall to buy my Christmas present. It was a charm for a bracelet we’d been adding to since I was a kid. She wanted to get there when the store opened at five in the morning since they were having a sale, quantities were limited, and money was tight. On her way, a drunk driver veered into her lane on a dark road and hit her head-on. She never stood a chance.”

Oh, fuck. I hold her tighter. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. So, so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Isabella pushes me away. “This isn’t your problem, and I don’t expect you to try and make it better.”

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