Page 87 of Broken Boss

“No,” I answer honestly. “Not particularly. I’ve been toying with the idea of maybe taking a break. I own the company, after all, but I don’t necessarily have to run it.”

My brother nods solemnly. It’s a similar move to the one he made a year ago when he stepped down from his construction company and started a small boutique carpentry shop instead. He seems happier, more content. I want something like that for myself.

“Well, you know what to do, then. Now, I love you, but please get the hell out of my house.”

We both stand and Nate pulls me into a hug, slapping my back and squeezing tight. The breath goes out of me, partly because of his grip and partly out of relief.

For the first time in days, it finally feels like I have some sort of direction. A compass pointing me toward home.

Chapter 31

Autumn

Being back at my apartment should feel like home, but it doesn’t.

In fact, it’s worse under these circumstances. Orla is clutching a pregnancy test in her hand, mouth set. Frank, sensing the unease in the room, whines quietly at my feet.

I used to love this little space. Now, it feels claustrophobic and overwhelming. I love Orla, but her things strewn everywhere make me feel anxious and crowded.

My eyes dart to the timer on my cell phone. Fifty seconds. I clutch the pillow to my stomach tighter, wondering if there’s the start of a new life inside my body.

Forty seconds.

I reach out and rub Frank’s head to distract myself. After I got sick at Chris’s, Orla realized sooner than I did what that might mean. She immediately started packing my bag as the possibilities set in.

Frank hadn’t been thrilled with the rush of gathering everything, including his food and water bowl, and me frantically texting an Uber. I was sure at any second Chris would come home and ask me what the hell I was doing. Shake some sense into me. Of course I couldn’t leave. Kieran was out there, waiting to teach me a lesson for information I didn’t know I had.

The whole ride back into the city, the first few hours in the apartment, the entire first day, I waited for a “where are you?” text. It never came.

Now, a full day and a half later, I finally let Orla talk me into taking a pregnancy test. There are three more on the table in front of us.

Ten seconds.

Orla purses her lips and shakes the pregnancy test, like that’ll make it go faster. I tighten my grip on the pillow, my mind echoing with a dozen contradictory emotions.

Do I want this?

I’m scared.

I’m excited.

What if?—

Five. Four.

Three.

Two…

Orla stops shaking the test and looks at it. Neither of us are breathing.

“It’s positive.”

She whispers the words so quietly, I actually lean forward, but I know what I heard.

“Are you sure? Is it?—”

I scramble for the box to check the instructions again as she drops back into a chair.

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