The Wrong Boss: Chapter 31

Cole wasn’t at work the next day. Whispers slithered through the office about Alba’s accident, about how Paulie, the driver, had been at fault. I thought of our accident on my first day of work and wondered if it should’ve been me laid up in a hospital bed instead of Alba. Kaia gave me the task of having flowers sent to her hospital room. I chose the nicest bouquet I could find on the flower delivery company’s website and let my guilt eat me from the inside out as I entered the company credit card details into the appropriate fields.

Just me, buying flowers for the woman whose fiancé I’d spent the last few days screwing. A normal, professional purchase. Yep.

Regret was a millstone around my neck. I regretted taking this job, keeping this job, indulging in all the little flirtations and looks and touches over the past several weeks. I regretted agreeing to go on the retreat. I regretted ever learning how to golf.

I especially regretted opening the door that evening, when Cole came knocking. If I’d just kept the deadbolt engaged, none of this would have happened.

Hailey would have told me that I was being a self-flagellating fool. She would have said that there was no sense beating myself up about decisions that couldn’t be undone. She would’ve been right, of course, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.

At lunchtime, I waved off Rachael’s invitation to go out for a sandwich and ate a sad, soggy salad at my desk. I was in a sad, soggy kind of mood.

Then my phone dinged. It was a message from Cole. It read: “Tickets to Bee Good are waiting for you at the box office. Saturday matinee show.”

My heart thumped, and despite myself, a bit of the sad sogginess lifted. He was paying out our golf wager. At some point between secret rendezvous in dark rooms over the course of the retreat, he’d asked me what Broadway show I wanted to see. I’d mentioned that my daughter was obsessed with bees and would love to see Bee Good.

Even with everything he was dealing with, he’d remembered. And come Saturday, I’d be able to reward Evie for her performance in the school spelling bee—however it went—with an honest-to-goodness Broadway show.

My throat was tight with emotion. I replied, You didn’t have to do that.

A second later, my phone rang. Cole. “Yes, I did,” he said after I picked up. “I always pay out my losing bets.”

Surreptitiously, I glanced around the empty office to make sure I was still alone. “Fortunate for me,” I said. “How are you doing? How’s Alba?”

“She’s awake. Broken legs and a bad concussion, but the doctors said she was lucky.”

“I’m so sorry, Cole.”

His sigh ruffled into the phone’s mic. “The timing isn’t ideal.”

“I’d go so far as to say a car accident is never ideal.”

A soft laugh. “True. What are you doing?”

“Sitting at my desk poking at lettuce in an old Tupperware container,” I admitted. “You?”

“Sitting at my desk thinking of you.”

I straightened. “You’re at work.”

“Home,” he said. “I’m heading back to the hospital in a bit.”

“Right.” I sank back down in my chair, feeling silly. Even if he’d been at work, I didn’t have the right to go up to his office and see him. I needed to tell him the truth. The best thing to do was distance myself as much as possible from him.

“Listen, Carrie—this accident, it changes things a bit. I want to talk to Alba about our engagement, ask her how she wants to handle telling our families.”

“Not a good look to break up right after she ends up concussed and immobile. And definitely not a good look to announce that you’re seeing someone new.”

He snorted. “No. But you know, you and me…I still⁠—”

“Just take care of your fiancée, Cole. Don’t worry about me.”

“Ex-fiancée,” he corrected. “Even if no one else knows, we’re still broken up. And everything I told you over the weekend is still true.”

Clearing my throat, I turned to my computer. “I should get back to work.”

“Carrie—”

“Please, Cole.”

“I want to see you.”

My heart ached. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Why? Because of Alba?”

“Yes, because of Alba!” I exclaimed. Among other things. I took a deep breath. “Just take care of her, figure your stuff out, and then we can talk.”

And when we did, I would tell him about Evie. Then everything between us would be over.

“Fine,” Cole said. “You’ll go to the show on Saturday?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to enjoy it, Carrie.”

“I will,” I promised, and I hoped he couldn’t hear the tears I held back.

We hung up, and I stared at my black computer screen for long minutes. Then I scurried to the washroom, locked the door, and cried.