Page 87 of Boss with Benefits

Rachel's eyes flashed with surprise. "I want those things too. When did you get it in your head that I don't want to get married? And kids, well, I haven't thought about kids, but if it's what you want, we can talk about it. But don't close the door before you see what's on the other side."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, I faltered. Did she just say she wanted to get married and have kids? Did she mean in general or with me?

Then another thought hit me. The one that had been gnawing at me ever since we started doing research on Brad.

"Do you know how old Brad is?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Brad's forty-one. That's younger than me!" I exclaimed. "I can't do it, Rachel. I can't be with someone who could be my daughter."

Rachel's face twisted with outrage. "Brad was sixteen when I was born. It's totally different. No one cares but you. So stop making it a big deal!"

"You need someone your age," I said, my voice firm.

"Stop it," she snapped. "I'm a grown-ass woman, and it's my choice if I want to be with you. I don't give a damn that you're older than Brad. All I want is you. Can't you respect that I know who I am and what I want? It's insulting that you don't ever believe me.”

The room fell silent. Then Rachel's expression shifted, becoming eerily calm.

"Maybe you're right." Her eyes glistened, but her face was somber. "If you don't respect me, then I wouldn't respect myself if I chose to be with you."

She flung open the office door. Prathi was sitting at a workbench close by and came to the door.

"I quit," Rachel said forcefully to Prathi. "It's my decision. I was going to tell you later today. Derrick had nothing to do with it."

Rachel turned back to me, her eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and defiance. "By the way, Brad's my father. In case you were wondering."

42

RACHEL

The late afternoon sun dappled through the trees in Central Park, casting a golden glow over our motley crew sprawled on the bedsheet we were using as a picnic blanket.

I was sandwiched between my mom and Lulu, with Brad sitting across from us. I couldn't stop looking at him, studying his face, and he was doing the same with me.

The whole scene was bizarre, like I had stumbled into some alternate reality where family reunions came with a side of existential crisis.

"So," Brad said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over us. "Do you want to share the last deviled egg?"

I snorted, unable to help myself. "Sure."

He grinned, a lopsided smile that I was starting to recognize as my own. "Sorry. This is all so..."

"Weird. Crazy. Strange."

"Wonderful," he said, and I bit my lip.

"Jessica used to do that," Brad said pushing back his chestnut-brown hair. "When she was anxious. During every test. Every choir concert."

"She did!" Lulu agreed, sitting up on her knees. "I remember that."

I bit into the deviled egg, but a piece of parsley got caught in my throat and I started coughing. Brad dropped his paper plate and was at my side, whacking my back. I drank some water to dislodge the tiny piece of food and swallowed. When I stopped coughing, Brad sat back, worry all over his face.

"I'm fine. No need to save my life. Just a rogue herb," I joked.

"Hey, I'm new to this whole dad thing." He smiled sheepishly. "I just met you and yet...."

"You'd do anything for her," Mom finished and placed her hand on top of his, squeezing it reassuringly. "Welcome to being a parent."

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