Page 93 of The Wrong Boss

“I know, Mom!” Evie said, stretching the word “know” for a few seconds.

“Be good,” she said, planting a kiss on Evie’s forehead. Then she looked up and met my gaze. I saw her steel herself, as if she had to don armor for a meal with me. Her smile was a little brittle as she said, “Hi, Cole. Ready?”

I nodded and opened the door to step back outside. My throat was tight, and I wasn’t sure if it was because Evie had upgraded me from “Cole” to “Dad,” or if it was because I hated that the easiness was gone between Carrie and me.

The restaurant I’d chosen was a contemporary place with intimate booth seats and low lighting. I wanted somewhere we could talk without being overheard. Somewhere that would feel comfortable—but as soon as we walked in and were led into the dining room by the hostess, I had to repeat my “not a date” refrain to myself with every step.

The place oozed romance. The walls were painted a dark burgundy color, and the booths were smooth leather. Crisp white tablecloths covered the tables, and soft jazz played from hidden speakers. Candles flickered on every table, withabstract art dotted around the walls. The windows were tinted, arched, and framed in gold, giving us a view of the street that made it seem like we were looking at a moving piece of art.

Carrie glanced around and arched a brow, then slid into the booth across from me. The seats rose up higher than our heads, and we were ensconced in our own private cocoon. We wouldn’t be overheard, but I’d underestimated just how intimate it felt.

“Nice place,” Carrie said, spreading her napkin over her lap. “Have you eaten here before?”

I shook my head. “Should we get some wine?”

She inhaled. “Why not?” she said, huffing a laugh.

Our stilted conversation smoothed out when I asked about Evie’s last math quiz. Carrie’s shoulders softened, and her smile became more genuine.

“…and she told me she wants to join the Mathletes next year,” Carrie finished, beaming. “How I ended up with a brainiac for a daughter, I’ll never know.”

“I always liked school,” I pointed out. When Carrie stiffened slightly, I cleared my throat. “Maybe she gets it from me.”

“Right.” Carrie reddened slightly and shook her head. “Sorry. I keep forgetting…”

“That I’m her father?” The question came out with more bite than I’d anticipated.

The redness on Carrie’s cheeks deepened. She straightened the place setting in front of her, shifting the utensils fractions of an inch as if she needed to do something with her hands. The waitress appeared with our wine and gave me a taste, and Inodded for her to fill the glasses. Once we were alone again, Carrie lifted her glass, touched it to mine, and took a sip.

Then she set it down and met my gaze. “Cole, I realize I never apologized to you.”

I leaned back. “No,” I agreed. “You haven’t.”

It was interesting watching her gather herself. I could see what a struggle it was for her to put the words together, but I admired her for wanting to try. These past few weeks, I hadn’t seen much of the capable, driven woman I’d observed at work. Carrie had acted closed-off and tentative, and it had made me feel like everything I knew about her was a lie.

But now, I saw some of the fiery woman who had yelled at me for saving her from a knife-wielding maniac. She squared her shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “I’m sorry for not telling you about Evie right away. Truly. I’d like to explain my reasoning, and I want to emphasize that I’m not making excuses. I was wrong, and I know it. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I’d like to explain my perspective.”

This was the brave, indomitable woman I’d fallen for. My heart thumped. “Sure.”

Her fingers played along the stem of her wine glass, and the pulse hammered in her neck—but her voice was steady. “Seven years ago, I had just come out of a bad relationship when I met you.”

“Derek,” I said.

She nodded. “Derek. He ruined my self-esteem and made me question everything I knew about myself. He made me feel incapable of everything, made me doubt my every decision. And then I met you.”

The utensils needed straightening again, so Carrie dropped her gaze from mine and busied her hands for a few seconds. I watched her, feeling a weight slowly descend onto my chest.

“You were everything good and exciting and perfect that I didn’t deserve,” she continued. “I was afraid. And then you were gone, and I was pregnant, and I couldn’t find you. When Evie arrived, it was this huge responsibility that I didn’t think I could manage. So much pressure caused by such a little human. And I told myself that I’d do everything I could to give her a good life. I’d be everything she needed, and I’d put her first. The past six years have been so, so hard—but I wouldn’t change them for anything, because I’ve got Evie. I finally felt like I had a rhythm, like I’d finally figured things out. She’s in school, she’s doing well…I’m doing it. Finally, I’m doing something right. So when I walked into your office and saw you…”

“You knew everything would change again,” I finished for her.

She nodded. “I’d given you up, Cole. I figured I’d never see you again, and I decided that was okay. I could be a single mom—I could be the best single mom. But then there you were—rich and powerful and handsome and everything that I wasn’t. Everything that I’m not.” She gulped, vulnerability shining in her eyes. With a deep breath, she said, “I walked into your office, saw you, and I was hit with this wall of fear.”

“You were afraid of me?”

“I was afraid you’d take her from me, Cole,” she said quietly. “I was afraid you’d use your resources to bully me, maybe turn Evie against me…I don’t know. She’s all I have, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing even a minute with her. So I told myself I’d get my ducks in a row. I wouldn’t be rash. But then…” She huffed, a little bitter, a little self-deprecating. Her lips bunched to the side as she shook her head and met my gaze. “But then you were you. And I couldn’t resist.”

In that moment, I felt a connection to Carrie that was deeper and more real than any we’d shared before. She wasn’t the strong, opinionated woman who sassed me and made me want her. She wasn’t the sharp assistant who was an asset to my company. She wasn’t the woman who made me want and crave and need.

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