Page 9 of Boss Me

“No one else can pivot at the last minute like I can. They’ve got spouses. Kids. Families.” All I had was an enormous, empty mansion in Pacific Heights. I didn’t have as much as a fucking goldfish to care for. And if I did, Norma could have fed it while I was in Boston.

After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Not having those obligations doesn’t mean you can do everyone’s work, Cooper. You need some downtime, too. Don’t you think what happened today proves it?”

I felt in my trouser pocket and pulled out the ring that had started all the trouble. It was a big, ugly signet-style ring with a light-blue stone set in the center. The silver ring was flattened slightly from the impact, and the stone now cracked down the middle. Larimar. For enlightenment and healing, Mamá said when she gave it to me. If it worked, I doubted I would’ve used it to smash my desk. I wouldn’t have acted like him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You need to talk to someone. Have you called your therapist?”

“Not yet.” The words ground out between my gritted teeth.

“Don’t get your tail up. I’m trying to help you.”

“I know. I know.” But knowing Jamila was in my corner didn’t put out the fire blazing inside me. “I have to get to the airport. I’ll call you this weekend.”

“Okay, honey. Take care.” Concern tinged her voice. Add her to the list with Norma and Ben.

I checked the heavy Rolex on my wrist. The car would be outside in ten minutes. Where were my fucking shoes? I pitched the phone through the door toward the bed so I’d have both hands free to tear apart my closet. I spun on my toe and—

When I looked down, I spotted my shoes. On my feet. I’d been about to wreck my closet over a pair of shoes I’d forgotten I was wearing.

My hands shook, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, my eyes were wide and wild. My hair stood up in sandy spikes.

Next time, it might not be a desk I hit. It might not be a sheet of glass I destroyed.

Add myself to that list of concerned people.

I strode across the closet, snatched the boutonnière off the shelf, and crushed it in my fist. I dropped the pieces in the trash. I was done with him. Done with it all.

My fingers were almost too shaky to find the contact in my phone, but at last I hit the call button. “Emily?” I said when the pilot picked up. “I need you to change our flight plan. We’re not going to Boston.”

3

BEN

Marlee smiled as I passed her desk. “You’re in a good mood.”

I paused and pointed up at the huge skylight. “The sun is shining, and I got an A on my econ paper last night.” I felt like crowing when I saw it. I almost wished my ex, Trey, and I were still on speaking terms so I could’ve told him.

“Good job! But remind me why you’re taking econ?” She grimaced. “You hate spreadsheets.”

“This is just an intro class, and it’s more about theory than actual formulas. The accounting class I took last semester?” I shuddered at the memory. Numbers had always been so difficult for me. Unlike my sister, Mimi, who was an accountant downstairs and a total boss at math. “Nothing but spreadsheets. But it’s required for my business major.”

“Should’ve majored in programming like me.” She flipped her light-brown hair.

“I should’ve done a lot of things different.” Like going to counseling after my boyfriend broke up with me my freshman year instead of dropping out. Maybe then I’d have what Trey considered a real job, and I wouldn’t be the oldest student in my econ class and getting my degree so slowly I’d be lucky if I graduated before I turned thirty.

“Hey.” Marlee reached across her desk to squeeze my hand. “I think it’s great that you’re getting your bachelor’s.” She smirked. “One of Cooper’s degrees is in business. Maybe you’ll be as rich as he is someday.”

“Ha, ha. By the time he was twenty-eight, he’d taken Synergy public and was already a multimillionaire.” I glanced toward his office out of habit, but of course it was dark. He was in Boston. “I hope he’s okay after all that shit Jackson pulled yesterday.”

“Jackson?” She released my hand. “He wasn’t the one who smashed his desk.”

“Yeah, but he—never mind.” Marlee was best friends with Jackson’s wife and thought of his kids as her nephew and niece. None of them worried about the burdens Jackson put on Cooper.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Cooper always takes it in stride.”

He did. Right up until yesterday. He was a pressure cooker, holding all that steam inside. We’d seen some of it escape yesterday, but what would happen if it continued to build? Would he go off on someone who wouldn’t immediately forgive him? Weston, maybe? God help us all if Weston fired Cooper.

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