Page 58 of Her Impossible Boss's Baby

Then he did the same, taking a bite for himself. It thrilled her. And she wasn’t even quite sure why. Perhaps because this meticulous man with such a routine was being playful with her. Was giving her things that she was entirely certain he had never given to anybody else before.

It felt... It felt like a revelation.

And it made her tremble.

Because it felt dangerous.

Oh, so dangerous.

“I should get my own plate,” she said, wiggling away from him.

“I don’t like it when you’re demanding.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Because on Wednesdays, I feel I might be very demanding.”

“Wednesdays?”

He looked like he was considering whether or not he should make a note in his calendar. Polly will be demanding. Recurring event.

“Or Thursdays. I’m unknowable.”

“You are not.”

“I’m not?” She sat down at the table, her heart pounding a little bit harder than it needed to be.

“No. You are very knowable, Polly. You like summer and sunsets, and cake. You keep chocolate in your purse. Half the movies you watch make you cry.”

“Those first few things are not unique, and also how do you know that about the movies?”

“I’ve overheard you telling a great many of your coworkers about a movie you have seen over the weekend, and about half the time you say that it made you cry. You are very soft, but at the same time you are very strong. I do know you.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me. About your parents.”

“I did.”

“You gave me a general idea for why they were a problem. And I want to know. Specifically. My father did not want me to be the person that I was. He wanted me to be the person he wanted me to be. And that I think is a terrible thing for a father. My mother loved me exactly as I was, and even then losing her, she helped me find myself. That is what a good parent does. Even when they aren’t there, the love that they gave you does its good work. And so I want to know. What did your parents do that is so terrible that you left Indiana—”

“A lot of people leave Indiana.”

“What did they do that was so terrible that it makes you not want to return home? I assume you don’t wish them to even know you’re having a child.”

“I can try to explain it to you,” she said. “But I’m afraid you’ll just...” Suddenly, awfully, she found herself getting weepy. It was the pregnancy hormones. And him. Maybe just somebody else asking about her life. About her. “You can’t just put me on the spot like this, Luca. I have perfected my mask.”

“You haven’t. I had the right of you from the moment you first walked in here. I knew that you were not half so sophisticated as you pretended to be. I knew that you were overawed to be in a company that size. I knew that it wasn’t the blasé thing that you were trying to pretend that it was.”

“Well. You are insightful.”

Her chest felt tight.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I have told people. I told the guidance counselor at my school when I was in high school, and he just said it was normal to have conflict with your parents.” She blinked back tears. “It’s so hard to explain. Because it’s like I was responsible. For being an emotional barometer. I had to read the situation around me and react accordingly. And if I didn’t, then I was going to have to deal with the consequences. Because it wasn’t so straightforward as my father walking around acting angry. He would seem fine. And in fact, he would bait me into conversations that would end with him screaming at me. Because he wanted a fight. And so he would manipulate me until he got one. And my mother... She wanted me to be obedient. Biddable. And the way you accomplish that is by making sure that someone doesn’t have a sense of themselves. Of their worth. She was an expert at making me question myself. If I would tell her about something that happened at school she would ask me if I was sure that that’s what happened. Somebody hurt my feelings she would say... Maybe that isn’t how it went. Maybe you were the one in the wrong. Before I would leave for school she would say, did you think that looked good?” She shook her head. “It was just such a perfect storm. But they didn’t beat me. They didn’t starve me. They just made me feel like everything around me was unstable. Like I had to walk on my tiptoes to avoid causing an avalanche. That was all.”

But it had been so heavy. And carrying it all this time had been a weight she hadn’t known was still resting on her shoulders.

“That would have been my undoing. I already question everything that I do, and often have to question my interactions with people. If somebody sought to undermine me in that way, it would’ve broken me.”

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