Page 77 of The Boss and the Adoption Mess
Chloe:Ouch. So… was she pretty?
Me:She looked like me.
Chloe:Oh!
Me:I mean, natural red hair. Freckles. But her vibe was different. I don’t know… could that really be coincidence?
Chloe:Honestly? Since I moved to London, I’ve only met two women who looked like you. Total coincidence both times. Maybe I ran across one before, but it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how rare your look is. You stand out. Really.
Me:But still—couldn’t it just be chance?
Chloe:He lies about where he is, then finds himself a stand-in?
Me:An upgrade. She was way hotter than me…
Chloe:Oh, Kimmy… you’re ridiculous. And yes, I do think he did it on purpose. You didn’t sleep with him because you passed out. And now you’re around him every day. But you two have a contract, and you’re supposed to be looking after his niece. Hecan’t start something with you. Why do you think I keep Tony at arm’s length?Sharing both a bed AND a workplace is just a terrible idea.
Me:Yeah… it brings on chaos.
Chloe:Exactly. And he knows it. That’s why he went after a copy—because he couldn’t have the real thing. Or because he knows it’s a terrible idea to start something with you.
Me:Yeah…
Chloe:So: hands off!
She’s right. About everything.
But why am I tearing up again? Just the thought of him kissing another woman, touching her, being close to her—it drives me crazy. I can’t stop picturing that stunning woman who’s both like me and so much hotter than I’ll ever be.
I have to get him out of my head.
I just don’t know how.
Chloe and I keep texting until well past midnight. Sometimes she takes a while to answer—she’s busy at the bar—but she stays with me the whole time. In the end, she tells me I should get out there and meet people. There are plenty of hot guys who’d be dying for a chance with me.
Even if I don’t actually do anything with them, it would be a nice ego boost. And she’s right—my ego could use it. It would feel good to get flirted with again. Just like that first time Gabriel talked to me, when I felt like a princess. I want that feeling again. And if it’s not coming from him… then it could come from someone else.
As much as the thought stings, it’s better this way.
I need to listen to my head, not my heart. My heart is what landed me in this mess—and it can’t keep going like this.
Thursday passes quietly. Late in the morning I have the driver take me to a hobby store so I can pick up the supplies we need to cast Rosie’s leaves in resin. She couldn’t stop talking about it all morning.
By early evening the three of us are in the garage, Rosie and I watching while Gabriel mixes the resin. We keep our distance—it’s not completely safe while it’s liquid. Then Gabriel carefully lays out the leaves the way Rosie wanted them. The block, about the size of a thick book, will need a few days to harden. We’ll just have to be patient.
Friday we head to the airport. Thomas drops us at the entrance, where a friendly woman from the airport staff greets us. She has our luggage checked in and escorts us to the business lounge. The atmosphere is relaxed, and the food delicious. Soft music is playing, and pleasant fragrances make the stay more than enjoyable.
“Is this your first time flight?” another airport worker asks, crouching down to Rosie’s height.
Rosie had wandered off while Gabriel was on his phone, and I was buried in my book. She was supposed to be drawing, but her curiosity got the better of her. Since she was quiet, it didn’t seem to bother anyone.
“Yeah,” Rosie answers the airport staff member.
“Are you really excited?” the woman asks kindly. They’re only a few steps away from us, but Gabriel and I keep an eye on the situation.
“A little,” Rosie murmurs shyly.
“But your parents are with you. If anything happens—if you feel scared or sick—you just tell them, okay?”
