Page 44 of The Wrong Boss

I spentthe weekend with my kid, then went to work and did my thing. I saw Cole in passing on Monday, then sat through a meeting about the month ahead on Tuesday. He brooded at the far end of the table, fingers tented as various departments reported to him, and I focused on taking detailed meeting minutes while avoiding his dark gaze.

When we exited the meeting room, he was beside me. He gave me a slight nod. “Carrie,” he said, then slipped past me and walked away. When he waited by the elevator, I made the mistake of looking up. His dark gaze clashed with mine, causing every nerve ending in my body to flare to life.

Then the elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside before disappearing from view.

My heart thumped so hard for so long that I had to go hide in the washroom for ten minutes. It was pathetic.

Finally, Wednesday rolled around and I managed to leave work an hour early to meet Seth’s lawyerly colleague, a woman named Carla whose gaze was as sharp as the tailoring on her suit. She had dark brown skin and near-black hair, which she’d buzzed close to her head. She shook my hand with a firm grip and led me to a sparsely furnished meeting room that overlooked the busy street below.

She wasted no time in giving me the bad news: “The courtswill rule in the child’s best interest,” she said, “and in your case, it’s likely they’ll award at least visitation to the father, if not partial custody, depending on what petition he might file.”

“Right,” I said. I ran my thumbnail along the edge of the table that separated us. “And what happens if I just…don’t say anything?”

“It won’t reflect well on you if you work for him for any length of time without letting him know you’ve had his child.”

“Even though there’s no actual proof she’s his?”

Carla angled her head, deep brown eyes seeing right through me. “Is the child’s paternity in doubt?”

I slumped. “No. Not unless I turned into a queen bee and impregnated myself.”

Carla let out a noise that was half hum, half grunt. The scrunch in her eyebrows told me she was regretting doing this favor for Seth.

I pinched out a smile and explained, “My daughter knows a lot about bees, and therefore I know a lot about bees.”

The lawyer’s expression softened. “Mine’s on an alligator kick right now. Did you know they can regrow their teeth up to fifty times?”

“I did not know that,” I said, grinning. “I’ll tuck that one away for the next time I want to impress Evie with my deep knowledge of fun facts.”

Carla huffed, then tapped her nails on the table. Her face went back to business, but her voice was kind as she said, “There’s not much I can do for you right now. Not until the father knows about the child and we find out what kind of involvement—if any—he’d want in her life.”

“Okay.”

“Ouroffice can draft a letter for you, in case you’re not willing to tell him?—”

“I’ll tell him,” I interrupted.

“If that’s what you want. From our perspective, it’s cleaner if all communication goes through our office.”

“I can’t just pretend everything’s fine and let him get a letter like that with no warning,” I told her. “I just can’t. I’ll tell him myself. In person. Just as soon as I find the right time.”

Evie had insisted on practicing her spelling every day since she’d come home with the flyer. She kept talking about what she could get with the prize money if she won. Her excitement had morphed into determination, and it felt wrong to disrupt her when she was so focused. I’d wait until after the spelling bee. I needed the time to get myself organized, anyway.

“Carrie,” the lawyer warned. “The longer you leave this, the worse it’ll reflect on you if we have to go to court. I wish this weren’t the case, but a long, protracted legal battle will favor the party with the deeper pockets.”

Grimacing, I pushed back from the table. “And that isn’t me.”

Carla pinched her lips and nodded. “Tread carefully, and reach out once you’ve spoken to him. We’ll be waiting.”

I shook her hand and held it together until I was out of her building and on the street, the crisp autumn wind whipping the ends of my scarf. Tears filled my eyes, and I brushed them away with angry swipes of my palms. I stared up at the sliver of sky I could see through the buildings, a blanket of gray covering the city.

Just tell your boss that he’s actually the father of your child, I thought.No big deal. Toss that grenade into the corner office and then walk through the door to watch it blow up in your face.

Laughing mirthlessly, I buried my chin in my scarf and headed toward the nearest subway station. In the end, it didn’t matter that Hearst, Inc. was a meat grinder, and I was a poor little leg of lamb heading for a grisly end.

My fate had been decided seven years ago.

This wouldn’t end well.

---