Page 81 of Bossing My Holiday
“I see. And do you love each other too?” She wiggles a finger back and forth between Braxton and me, and I shake my head.
“Why did you lie to us, boy? What is this about a fake relationship when you’re clearly in love?”
I hang my head in shame. “I didn’t want to be set up, and I didn’t want to be married off to the highest bidder like before. I made Waverly, who admittedly didn’t care for me very much because I wasn’t the nicest of bosses, a deal she couldn’t refuse in exchange for coming here and playing the part of my girlfriend. That’s how this began.”
She folds her arms and leans against the entryway to the penthouse for support. “I see. So you came here and lied to us, but it wasn’t quite a lie.”
“Waverly wasn’t my girlfriend when we first arrived. Shewasn’t Braxton’s either. What’s happened between us began here and grew quickly.”
“Hmm.” She takes the three of us in with new eyes. “Love does not often come on this quickly.”
“No,” Brax agrees. “I’ve loved Waverly for two years. I just never acted on it until we got here.”
I sigh and drag a hand across my jaw and adjust my bow tie at my neck. “Same with me. I knew moving back here would eventually become my life, and I didn’t want to start something and get hurt or hurt Waverly.”
“But you’re hurting now. All of you.”
“I told them I was moving here.”
“What’s all this?” My mother comes over, her emerald gown sweeping the floor as she walks, only for her to come to a screeching halt when she notes the visible tension and miserable expressions. She shifts from confusion to concern. “Is everything all right? Alain, come here.”
Great. Now the party can really start.
My father comes over and notes our interlocking hands. “What’s going on?”
I glance at Brax and Waverly before I turn back to my parents. The words come easier than I expected, tumbling out in a rush of relief and fear. I explain how what began as a convenient arrangement with Waverly posing as my girlfriend to thwart marriage-hungry women evolved into something more. Something real. I explain how Braxton and I both fell in love with her and how she, remarkably, loves us both in return. How the prospect of separation has been destroying me.
My mother’s face cycles through shock, confusion, and something unreadable. My father stands rigidly, arms crossed.
“So this has all been a lie?” my father finally asks.
“Not all of it,” Waverly answers. “The feelings are real. The connection between us is real. The only lie was pretending itwas conventional and that Braxton was only my boss and nothing more.”
“You want to be with them in Boston,” my mother states. “Even though you told us today that you were going to be moving here.”
“Oui. Yes. I want to be with them in Boston. But it’s my role in this family, as the single heir, to step up and take over Ouest Hotels, and I can run OuestHicks along with Braxton from here, especially now that we have a Paris company. And truth be told, I don’t want anyone else to run Ouest Hotels but me.”
My mother shakes her head. “I don’t understand. How can you… be together with her? What about marriage and children?”
“We’re not exactly there yet,” Brax answers. “And I’m not sure it’ll matter since Tristan is moving here, and Waverly and I will be together in Boston.”
“So you ended it with her… with them,” my father cuts in.
“Yes,” I confirm. “I told you I was moving here.”
“Sounds like a tricky situation,” Grand-mère comments. “Love can be that way.”
“Not so tricky anymore,” I tell them. “Just painful. Love can be that way too.”
“By moving here and taking over Ouest Hotels, you’re leaving Waverly and Braxton and your happiness with them.”
It’s not a question, but I answer my mother all the same. “Yes.”
A trembling hand meets her lips, and she looks at my father. “What do we do?”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t want my son to be unhappy. Not again. We already did that to him once, and I’ve felt nothing but guilt for it since. Yes, I wanted him to find a woman and settle down, preferably here in Paris, but not like this.”
