Page 79 of The Wrong Boss

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to enjoy it, Carrie.”

“I will,” I promised, and I hoped he couldn’t hear the tears I held back.

We hung up, and I stared at my black computer screen for long minutes. Then I scurried to the washroom, locked the door, and cried.

THIRTY-TWO

COLE

I satbetween huge bouquets of flowers next to Alba’s bed. Her legs were in casts, and two big bruises hugged the bottoms of her eyes. Her mother sat on the other side of the bed dressed in a Chanel twinset in baby blue, hands clasped on her lap, head bowed.

The soft beep of hospital equipment punctuated the silence of the room.

Mrs. Enders cleared her throat. “Do you think this will throw the wedding preparations off?” Her eyes were the same piercing blue as Alba’s, watching me from the other side of the bed.

I shifted, slipping my phone back into my breast pocket. Guilt tasted sour on my tongue; I hated lying, and it felt like it was all I’d done for the entire week that I’d been back in the city. It was Saturday now, with the midday sun shining over the stark white of the hotel room, and I didn’t know how long Icould keep up the charade. “I’m not sure about the wedding preparations,” I hedged.

“Alba said you two were working on seating arrangements recently. Anything you can share with me?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Frowned. “Did you not see the seating chart when you and Alba went over it a few weeks ago?”

Mrs. Enders’ frown deepened. “When we went over it? Honey, Alba’s been hush-hush about everything related to the wedding ever since you chose the venue. She didn’t like my entirely optional, helpful suggestions about choosing somewhere more appropriate?—”

“Wait—you haven’t been helping her plan the wedding?”

“I wish! If you only knew how many times I’ve tried to ask her how things are going! You know I have friends all over the city, right? If you two are struggling with the planning, I’ll be more than happy to take some tasks off your hands.”

I blinked, mind reeling. All those times Alba had said she was going to her mother’s house to work on wedding planning…had they been a lie?

The woman on the hospital bed beside me remained silent and asleep, even when I studied her face as if I could learn her secrets by osmosis. Had I known her at all?

“…and Itold herthat roses are classic. Youmusthave roses in at least your centerpiece arrangements, if not her bouquet. And not to mention the boutonnieres! But Alba thinks she’s getting orchids. Orchids! Now, if we were talking calla lilies, I might be able to…”

“Mom,” Alba croaked from the bed, a moment before hereyes opened. My ex-fiancée met my gaze, blinked, and turned her head to face her mother. “Mom, stop.”

“Honey, I’m only saying. The flowers?—”

“There won’t be any flowers.”

I froze. “Alba—” I started, then stopped. I’d sat in this hospital chair playing the dutiful fiancé because I wanted to give Alba the chance to recover before we announced our breakup.

But as Alba inhaled, I wondered if that was the real reason. Maybe, deep down, I was still afraid of what would happen when the end of our engagement became public. Would my father still talk to me? Would I still have a job? Would I end up exactly as I had all those years ago, when I discovered that my entire childhood had been a lie?

Maybe all my talk with Carrie had been just that—talk. Really, I wanted to squeeze out the last few moments as the dutiful son and soon-to-be son-in-law, because that was the disguise that felt the best to me. Before we announced the end of our engagement, I could still pretend to be the man my father wanted me to be.

“No flowers?” Mrs. Enders repeated, scandalized, hand flying to her chest. “Alba! Now, I’m as modern and forward-thinking as the next woman, butno flowers? Have you lost your mind?”

“No flowers,” Alba repeated, “because there’s going to be no wedding.”

Mrs. Enders stared at her daughter. Her face turned red as her eyes bugged, and then she turned to face me. I inhaled, mind whirling as I tried to think of the right words, when theolder woman stood up in a rush. “Where’s the call button? Nurse! Nurse!” She pointed to Alba. “Stay there. There’s something wrong with your brain. Cole, what are you doing? Give her CPR! She’s dying!”

“Mom—”

“CPR?”

“Nurse!”

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