Page 87 of The Wrong Boss

“Yes,” I answered.

“Oh,” she said, eyes on her ice cream. She tapped the spoon against the edge, her legs kicking back and forth. She was silent for a long while, and I waited, knowing she needed time to process. She ate a few more bites of ice cream, then shimmied closer to me to lean her head against my shoulder.

“Mom?” she asked.

“Yes, honey?”

“Was it the man at the theater?”

I froze. “Sorry?”

“My dad. He’s your new boss?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes. But I won’t be working for him anymore.”

“Oh. Is it because of me?”

“No, Evie,” I rushed to answer. “It’s not your fault. I won’tbe working for him anymore because…I wasn’t the right fit for the job.” Technically.

“You’ll go back to work for Mr. Wentworth?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

We sat in silence, our ice cream forgotten, sitting in a cone of light on a park bench while the last of the evening light faded. The air cooled, and I knew it would soon be time to go home.

“Do you have any questions for me?” I prompted quietly.

Her boots swung into view, then dipped back down as she kicked her feet back and forth. “About my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm… I guess…”

“Yes?”

“Does he want to see me?” Her question came out small and hesitant, and it broke my heart. I wondered how many times Evie had thought about her dad. How many times she’d wondered if she was wanted.

“I think the more important thing is whether you want to see him,” I told her.

She bunched her lips to the side. “I guess so…but…”

I stroked her hair. “But…?”

Evie let out a long breath. It puffed out in front of her in a cloud of white, and then she turned to look at me. “Does he like bees?”

I barked out a laugh. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” she answered, frowning. As if finding out if her father liked bees should’ve been at the top of my to-do list. Smiling, I brought my lips to her temple and kissed her. There would be more questions. And once I found out what Cole was going todo, we’d have another conversation. Probably multiple conversations. But for now, it was enough to have opened the door to the possibility.

As we walked home, I felt a little lighter. Yes, things were still in shambles. Cole hated me. I’d lost my job. I probably would never find a man I loved as deeply as I loved Cole, nor would I ever feel that intense of a connection ever again. I’d lost so, so much, and most of it had been my own fault.

But my daughter was okay. For tonight, that would be enough.

THIRTY-SIX

CARRIE

I receivedthe few personal effects I’d left at the office via courier the following Tuesday. I opened the small box to find my phone charger, a collection of snacks I’d stashed in my drawers, an empty water bottle, and the little succulent I’d spent weeks nursing back to health. Its soil was scattered all over the bottom of the box, and the smooth, oval-shaped leaves were crushed and mangled. I picked up its carcass and burst into tears. Hailey came rushing into the kitchen while I stood at the counter, holding the remains of a plant I’d inherited, crying fat, nonsensical tears.

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