Page 89 of The Wrong Boss

“Which demonstrates a lack of good judgment,” Cole lobbed across the table.

I bristled. “Lack of good judgment was you presuming that you could meet my daughter without running it by me first.”

“How long would you have lied to me if I hadn’t?”

“Mr. Christianson, Ms. Woods, please,” Thomas said, his voice firm but gentle as he tried to defuse the tension in the room. “Remember, we’re here to work together.”

I turned my face away from Cole and sucked in a deep breath. My whole body trembled, and sweat dampened my underarms. This was infinitely harder than I thought it would be.

By the end of the meeting, I’d agreed to let Cole see Evie once a week for two months, in my presence, after which we would reassess. We both left the mediation feeling like we’d lost. I watched him stalk out of the room and mash the elevator button, his eyes hard and the line of his shoulders stiff.

My own exit was slow and labored. I feltlike an old dishtowel that had been wrung out one too many times. When I got home, I lay on the couch for an hour, then dragged myself to my feet and got ready to go pick Evie up from school.

It was time for another tough conversation.

THIRTY-SEVEN

COLE

I straightenedthe sleeves of my sweater over the watch I’d just checked. They were very nearly late. Shifting on the hard wooden seat, I resisted the urge to check it again. I knew it had only been about ten seconds since I’d looked at the watch; it wasn’t the time that was making me antsy.

I was about to meet my daughter.

Touching the bag next to me to make sure the gift I’d bought was still there, I stole a glance at the clock on the restaurant wall. Then cursed myself.

This wasn’t like me. I wasn’t some nervous ninny. I negotiated with important people. I managed a portfolio of assets worth billions. And a six-year-old was making me sweat?

The door opened, and I stopped kidding myself. It wasn’t just the six-year-old that was making me nervous. Carrie came breezing through the door, looking as beautiful as she had the first day we met. And the day she walked into theoffice. And the day she trounced me at golf. And every day in between, before, and since.

I hated how much she affected me. I resented the fact that she was here at all, when she didn’t deserve to supervise a thing after keeping our daughter a secret from me, after lying to me for weeks and making me believe that she really cared about me. She’d made a fool out of me, and I still wasn’t over it. I doubted I ever would be.

“Hi, Cole,” she said as she came to a stop at our table.

I nodded. “Hello.” My gaze shifted to the little girl clinging to Carrie’s side. She stared at me through dark brown eyes, her hair braided back from her face so I could see just how much she resembled me. “Hi. I’m—” I stopped. What was I supposed to call myself? “Cole” seemed informal. “Dad” seemed presumptuous.

“You’re my father,” she supplied, then glanced at her mother. When Carrie nodded, the little girl stuck her hand out. “Mom said that I could choose what to call you. Zara calls her dad ‘Daddy’ and Imogen calls hers ‘Papa’ but I haven’t decided, so I’m going to call you Cole.”

A girl who knew what she wanted. Couldn’t argue with that. “Sounds fair.”

She gave me a businesslike nod. “I’m Evie.”

“Short for Evelyn,” I said, and couldn’t help my smile.

Evie beamed at me. “Yeah. You remembered!” She slid into the chair and looked at Carrie, who took a seat beside her. “Mom, can I get the brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce?”

“You have to eat lunch first, Evie,” Carrie said, sounding firm—but I could see the love in her eyes when she looked at her daughter.

I felt like an outsider looking in. I cleared my throat and said, “You like brownies?”

“Yeah,” Evie confirmed, nodding vigorously. “And pie.”

“And cookies,” Carrie provided. “And cake.”

“Andespeciallyice cream!”

Evie’s grin made me laugh, and I couldn’t help the urge to look at Carrie. She half rolled her eyes, but her smile widened.

I caught myself smiling back at her. Not liking how easy it felt, I cleared my throat and grabbed the bag I’d stashed on the chair next to me. “I got you something,” I said to Evie.

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