Page 36 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

“I just…” I run a hand through my hair, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here. Or like you can’t do your job because of what happened.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks down at the glass in her hands. “I don’t feel that way,” she says after a long pause. “Truth be told, I’ve been wondering if you were going to fire me.”

I blink, caught off guard.

“Fire you?” I repeat, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “Why the hell would I do that?”

Annie shrugs, her gaze still fixed on the glass in her hands. “Because it would make things easier for you. No awkwardness, no weird tension.” She lifts the glass to herlips and takes a small sip, her posture defensive. “I know how these things go.”

Her words hit a nerve, sparking an irritation that I try to tamp down. “You think I’d just fire you to avoid a little discomfort?”

She raises her eyes to meet mine, her expression unreadable. “Wouldn’t you?”

The kitchen feels colder, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. I let out a sharp exhale, leaning against the counter. “No, Annie. I wouldn’t.”

She tilts her head slightly, skepticism written all over her face. “Why not?”

“Because Robbie likes you,” I say simply, the truth laid bare between us. “He trusts you. And he needs someone like that in his life.”

Her lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “Robbie…”

“Robbie,” I interrupt. “This isn’t about me or you. It’s about him. I’m not going to let my… my screw-ups get in the way of what’s best for him.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. She sets the glass down on the counter, her fingers curling around its edge. “He does like me,” she says softly. “I like him, too.”

She studies me for a moment, her blue eyes piercing through the layers of guilt and frustration I’ve been carrying all week. “That night,” she starts, her voice hesitant, “it wasn’t just you.I was—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “I should’ve handled it better. I’m sorry for running out like that.”

“It’s fine,” I say quickly, almost too quickly. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“I think I do,” she counters, her tone firm but gentle. “You’ve been nothing but professional with me until… well, until that.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Not exactly a glowing review.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, stepping closer. “I just—look, I don’t regret working here. Robbie is a great kid, and I… I want to be here for him. But that night—”

“Forget that night,” I say, cutting her off. The words come out harsher than I intend, and I immediately regret them. “I mean… let’s not make it into something bigger than it was.”

Her expression tightens, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing again. “Okay,” she says, her tone clipped. “If that’s how you want it.”

“It is,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “For Robbie’s sake.”

She nods once, her posture stiff as she steps back.

The silence stretches again, but this time it feels less oppressive. I pick up the container of chicken and take another bite, needing something to do with my hands.

“By the way,” she says abruptly, her voice lighter, though it feels forced. “Robbie had a great time at Field Day. In case you werewondering.”

I freeze mid-bite, the words taking a moment to register. “Field Day?”

She frowns, tilting her head. “Yeah, at his school. You didn’t know?”

“No,” I say slowly, setting the container back on the counter. “I didn’t.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “It was on the calendar. I assumed you saw it.”

I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t exactly keep track of school events. That’s why I have people to… handle things.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the look on her face speaks volumes.

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