Page 20 of The Bossy One

“You should go call Sinead,” Olivia said. “I’ll clean up dinner.”

I took her at her word and went to go sort out the women in my life.

* * *

“I don’t like lying to her,” Sinead said, about a half hour later. She’d claimed that rehab was going well, and I’d decided to believe her. One of the reasons I’d picked this treatment center was because they customized their program based on the needs of the patients. In Sinead’s case, that meant letting her have daily calls with her daughter, even though their standard program didn’t allow phone calls during the first few weeks.

“Nor do I,” I said. “But I think it’s better to shield her for a bit. When something bad happens to your parent…” I didn’t have to finish that sentence. Sinead knew how rough it had been the summer our da died. I didn’t want Catie to feel even a fraction of that. I knew Sinead didn’t either.

“Fine,” Sinead agreed. “For now.”

“For now,” I agreed.

“Can I talk to my kid?”

“Sure,” I said.

I went and knocked on Catie’s bedroom door. “Catie, love? I’ve got your mum on the phone for you.”

Catie opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “She’s mymom. Not mymum.” But she took my phone and held it to her small face. She went and sat on the pink beanbag chair with her back to me.

I wanted to respect her privacy, but I also wanted to be there if she needed me, so I retreated to my office, leaving the door open. I messed about with some work stuff, but mostly I was focused on the little voice in my guestroom. I couldn’t quite make out her words from here, but I relaxed when Catie’s initial monosyllabic answers gave way to longer monologues.

A notification from Snug popped up onscreen, saying I had a message from @1000words.

I immediately clicked, grateful for the distraction.

Can I ask you a work thing? What do you do when a boss wants you to do something dumb?

Get a new job, I responded, and she sent back a laughing emoji.

I smiled, liking that I’d made her smile.Seriously though,I continued,it depends on the type of the boss. Are they the ok sort, who can listen when you explain why they’re wrong? Or are they an arrogant arse who thinks their word is gospel?

I got the symbol that meant she was typing. Then deleting. Then typing.

Finally she sent,I think maybe both? There are moments when I think he’s ok, but then he just… ARGH.

I snorted a laugh at her frustration. I’d had bosses like that.

You’re not going to like it, I wrote, but at the end of the day, your job is to protect yourself. Not him or his business interests. So if he’s telling you to do something dumb, just do it so you don’t get fired. If it blows up in his face, that’s his problem, not yours. And maybe start looking for jobs. Maybe another one in Ireland so you can stay in the area. ;)

She didn’t respond for so long, I double-checked to see if she’d logged off.

But she was still there. Maybe the winky face had been too much. There were moments where we approached flirting—there was a memorable conversation on her birthday, when she’d had too much wine, and complained about being single and asked what I’d do if I was there with her. Despite that tantalizing prompt, I’d remained a gentleman.

Mostly.

But we usually didn’t go there, so maybe she wasn’t in the mood now.

My computer pinged, and I straightened.

I know that’s good advice. But the thing is, there’s a kid’s well-being at stake.

My fingers flew.Screw the fucker. If there’s a kid at stake, follow your gut.I hesitated.Let me know if you need help.

You already have,she responded.

“Uncle Declan?” Catie called. “I’m done.”

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