Page 63 of Boss Level

She sighed and seemed to sink into herself. “I’m thirty. No one wants someone as old as me for a wife, and my mom does all the things I do, so I’m not any good to my parents. If I couldn’t cook and clean, I’d be useless. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Fury raced through my veins, and my food soured in my gut. I set the bowl on the coffee table and turned on the couch so I was facing her. “Hey, look at me.”

“Why?”

I covered her foot with my hand, drawing her gaze. “Because I want you to see how much I mean this. Your worth lies with who you are, not what you do for other people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you should be an asshole, but you weren’t born to serve.”

“But… I was.” Her voice was soft.

I got it. I hated that I got it, but I had a decent idea what she was feeling. “You weren’t. You’re your own person, and life is for figuring out who that is.”

“Easy for you to say.” She dropped her head into her arms as she spoke, muffling the words. “You already have all the answers.”

“I don’t, not by a long shot, and it’s not easy for me to say, I promise you. I know what you’re feeling.”

She mumbled something that sounded likeI doubt it. When she raised her head, her smile was tight, and her eyes dull. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump on you. Forget what I said. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Claire,” I called after her retreating back.

She closed the guest room door in response.

I flopped against the couch with a sigh. Was I that difficult when I went to live with Rosie? I’d love to believeno. That I’d been reasonable and open and heard her out and never argued.

That didn’t sound anything like me.

I’d love to tell Claire everything I’d learned since my dad kicked me out. About faith, about love and sex and relationships, about the world.

But it had taken me years to figure it out, and trying to squash my view of reality on top of hers in a single night would only make her shut me out.

I finished my food, washed my dishes and left them to dry, and headed to bed.

Wednesday at work was like the eye of the storm. The game was going smoothly, business was getting back to normal, but the tension hung in the air.

Wade had set a meeting for next Monday, to talk through this issue with Elliot and cast a tie-breaking vote. My teams were back to work on the next rounds of content.

I left the office before six that night, and the world felt completely out of whack at that point. The only thing I’d heard from Xander was the news about the meeting with Wade, and a quickhow are you holding up?

I had a similar conversation with Dom.How are you holding up? Dale’s out, by the way.

The only thing unusual about either exchange was that I didn’t used to talk to either of them on a daily basis. And now it didn’t feel like enough.

When I got home, my condo smelled incredible. Like garlic and meat and I wasn’t sure what else.

I found Claire at the table, eating a pasta dish in cream sauce that looked as good as it smelled.

Huh. I’d forgotten a table could be used for that.

She scrambled to her feet as soon as she saw me. “I didn’t think you’d be home or I would’ve waited. Let me get you a plate. Sit down.”

“You sit down. Now.” I used my boss-voice to make her comply.

She flushed red, but did what I told her.

In the kitchen, I found an array of glass dishes, each with a different portion of the meal in them. This was way better than delivery.

I piled my plate high with food—Xander would be proud of me, eating without prompting—and rejoined Claire in the dining room.

She didn’t say anything, and the smell of the food was making my stomach growl, so I dug in. For a short while, the only sound in the room was silverware hitting the dishes as we ate.

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