Page 11 of How to Marry the Boss

“Sure.” She shakes her head. “You know what? This is bull. I’m calling my brother.” She starts to pull out her phone from one of the pockets of her sweats. “I don’t need his on-call babysitter on me twenty-four seven. He’s gone way too far this time with his over-protective brother crap.”

Ever since she was a kid, Mia has always been the type of person to question decisions that were made on her behalf. At least ones that didn’t have a logical explanation. So it’s no surprise she’d try to call him.

If I weren’t such a meticulous planner, I’d be freaking out right about now.

“You won’t be able to reach him, I’m afraid.” My words stop her fingers from fidgeting on her phone.

She looks up at me puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“His and Kiera’s plane took off about an hour ago. They’re on vacation as of today, remember?”

For my plan to work, I had to get Jonathan out of the way. Long enough for me to move in, convince Mia not to say anything to him, and to have time with her without interruptions. So I started having the occasional conversation with Kiera about different cruise ships that sail through the Hawaiian Islands. I couldn’t tell Jonathan he should go on vacation without him getting suspicious. But his fiancée could. And sure enough Jonathan told me, before announcing in a memo sent the week before New Year’s, he was taking Kiera on a prewedding Hawaiian cruise for a week and a half. And that if anyone needed anything from him, they’d either have to talk to him before he left or after he came back. In other words, he’ll be completely off his phone while he’s gone.

Do I expect to win Mia’s heart before Jonathan gets back and finds out what I’ve been up to? That would be wishful thinking, but anything is possible.

With an annoyed look on her face, she walks into the kitchen, leaving the door open. “Make yourself at home then, I guess.”

I walk inside, closing the door behind me. “Certainly.”

A few moments later, we are sitting at the table, quietly enjoying our hamburgers, when she speaks. “I didn’t think you were the type that ate fast food.”

“A cheat day is good every now and then.” I shrug. “I’m surprised you still hate pickles on your burger. It’s sacrilege,” I tease.

“Are you kidding? I never have and never will.” She looks over at my food. “Both pickles and mustard? That’s disgusting. I don’t know how you and Jonathan can stand that.”

“I guess you could say it’s an acquired taste.”

She rolls her eyes. “That or you have no taste buds.”

I laugh. The light conversation is nice. The last time we had a conversation like this seems like an eternity ago. Most of the time, even when Jonathan was pursuing Kiera, Mia was either digging at me for information or trying to ignore me.

She changes the subject. “Why can’t you both trust me to make good decisions?”

I swallow the remnants of my burger. “Jonathan does trust you. It’s other people that are the issue. I’m with him on that, but the way he goes about it is different than what I’d do if I were in his shoes.”

I can remember the times when my best friend would be the first to cast his vote on who she’d date. Times when he had a friend who had a brother that went to her school to keep an eye on her. Times when he expressed his opinion about something whether she asked for it or not. Now that she’s older, he isn’tas overbearing. But he still tries to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do.

She takes a sip of her glass of water before speaking again. “And what would you do?”

“You’re an adult. I respect that. Jonathan and I just want to make sure you stay safe.”

“What do you mean you ‘respect that’?” she questions. “Let’s not forget; I almost sprayed you with pepper spray.”

Touché.

“True, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Unbelievable.” She shakes her head. “You sound just like him. I don’t need micromanaging from either of you. I may be a woman, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were. And I don’t intend to tell you how you should live your life.”

“Babysitting, if not that, is basically what Jonathan wants you to do, isn’t it?”

I understand her anger and frustration. Pinning everything on Jonathan has clearly ripped open an old wound.

“Yes, but I’m not Jonathan. Do what you want. I’m not going to tell you otherwise. I might offer to be your sounding board now and then, but that doesn’t mean you always have to take my advice. All I ask is that you call or text me if you need anything. Whether you’re broken down on the highway, need a designated driver, or a shoulder to cry on. I just want to be there for you.” I might be too much on the nose, but it’s the truth.

She stares with a stern look on her face. She doesn’t trust Jonathan, so I’m guilty by association.

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