Page 83 of The Wrong Boss

“I’m here to seeBee Good,” he said, and nodded to the tickets in my hand. “I—I just came from the hospital— My father—” He finally met my gaze, and thunder crackled between us. “Who is this?” he demanded, meaning Evie.

Evie snuggled closer to me, clearly afraid.

And that pissed me off.

I stood up straighter. “This is my daughter. I wasn’t aware you’d bought yourself a ticket too. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, part of the deal,” he repeated, letting out a bitter scoff. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you have much of a leg to stand on there, Carrie. So I’ll ask you again. Who is this?”

“Mom?”

“It’s okay, Evie.”

“Evie,” Cole repeated, and the sound of her name on his tongue struck a gong of fear inside me. I saw the worst possible future stretch out ahead of me. He’d fight me for her—and he’d win. He had the power and the resources to get anything he wanted.

“Short for Evelyn,” my daughter clarified. “That was my grandma’s name, but I never met her. She was my mom’s mom. Who are you?”

“I’m—” Cole stopped, his chest heaving. “I’m Cole. I’m…your mom’s boss.”

“Oh,” Evie said, and looked up at me. “Is he going to watch the show with us?”

“No, honey,” I said, clutching the tickets close.

Cole’s brows rose high on his forehead. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. This was going all wrong, but I wouldn’t sit next to him—and I wouldn’t let him spend time with my daughter when I hadn’t prepared her for it. When he could tell her?—

“That’s pretty rude, considering I’m the one who bought the tickets,” he said, voice low. At some point, he’d moved closer. He stood just in front of us, and I kept my arm around Evie’s shoulders, like I needed to protect her from him. Deep down, I knew I was only trying to shield myself from theconsequences of this meeting. The consequences of my lie being unraveled.

“You bought the tickets,” I agreed, “but clearly you’ve never dated a mother, because no one would agree to introducing her child to her lover without prior warning,” I hissed. In my peripheral vision, I saw Evie look up at me. Her little hand reached under my jacket to cling to the back of my dress at the base of my spine, as if she wanted to fuse herself to my side.

This was all wrong. Everything about it was wrong.

Cole looked at me like I was a stranger—no, like I was worse than a stranger. I was a contemptible, worthless worm in his eyes.

Heartbreak was a hidden explosion inside me, but overlaid on top of the hurt and the grief over what-could-have-been and what-almost-was was something much, much bigger.

I wasangry.

Angry that he’d shown up here, without warning, intending to introduce himself to my daughter. Angry that he’d taken away my chance to talk to Evie. Angry that he’d been sopresumptuous?—

“How old are you, Evie?” Cole asked.

My daughter glanced up at me, frowned, then looked at him. “Six.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“That’s enough,” I snapped.

“No, I want to know,” Cole said, his smile a cold, awful thing. “When were you born, Evie?”

“My birthday is July?—”

“Hush, honey,” I interrupted, but it was too late. I watchedas Cole counted backward. Watched as he rocked back on his heels, the month of her birth being all the confirmation he needed.

Hurt flashed across his features, but he locked it down and covered it with anger and disgust. I deserved it all.

“Let’s go,” I said, walking past Cole. I glanced at the exit, my heart pounding with the need to escape. But Evie’s hand slipped into mine, and she tugged me toward door B. Through the theater’s speakers, a bell rang to indicate that everyone should find their seats.

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