Misadventures with the Boss (Page 22)

“Ah, one of those girls.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Yep, that’s me.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, when I got home, I decided the place for me to go was school. It was always something that had mattered to me. I was a straight-A student—”

“I had no doubt,” he said.

“And I had a knack for learning, so I threw myself in. Then, you know, I met this guy, and he wanted to run away with me, so I dropped out and he…dropped me.” Shame bubbled beneath the surface, and I tried to push it aside. “I still decided to run away. Just, this time, it was by myself.”

“And that’s how you ended up here,” he concluded.

“That’s it in a nutshell.” I nodded.

“Could have been worse,” he said, and though I knew this was his way of trying to soothe me, I couldn’t help but poke at his logic.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well, you could have married him or had his baby and then had him walk away. That would’ve been worse.”

“I guess so, yeah.” I shrugged.

“Or worse, you could have never met me.” The mischievous glint returned to his eyes, and I gave him a playful punch on the arm before taking his hand in mine again. I let out a breath, relieved to have things on a lighter note but also somehow soothed that we’d shared some of our darkest times with one another. I finally was starting to feel like I was seeing the whole man instead of just one piece of him. And I liked it.

A lot.

“Come on, Mr. Modesty. Show me your other favorites. I’m interested now.”

Next, he took me to another room filled with paintings of single words like love, honesty, and respect. He studied each of them closely, mentioning the font and pointing out the brush strokes. In the next room, he showed me things he’d noticed about oil painting, explained the difference between the mediums, and then took me to the room full of old sixties’ vacuum cleaners and wildly shaped coffee tables.

“I can see why you’d find this place inspiring. I want to write the great American novel just walking around this place,” I said.

“Me too. Bad news is that I’m a terrible writer.” He took me by the crook of the arm and led me back out to the vendors outside, stopping to grab me a cupcake from one of them before we leaned back on the steps and watched the hordes of people coming and going.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I said when I’d finished my cupcake that I hadn’t even realized I was hungry for.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you had such a terrible time in the system, why did you stay in New York?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was because this is the center of the world and I needed to be part of it?”

“Not for a second,” I shot back.

“You know me well,” he laughed. “I’ll warn you, though, it’s not a happy ending.”

“Don’t you end up meeting me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was dating a girl who went to Columbia, and she got pregnant. I moved back here to be with her and the baby, and I bought an apartment building so she could keep going to school.”

“Oh,” I said, my mind spinning.

“She was nice enough, but she miscarried in the third month, and then we decided it wasn’t worth staying together if we’d only been doing it for the baby.”

“That’s devastating. You must have been heartbroken.”

“Yes and no.” He pursed his lips and then looked me deep in the eyes. “Would you think I was a bad person if I told you that I was sad for her but a tiny part of me was relieved? Not that I would’ve ever wished for it, but I didn’t love that girl and I don’t want children. I did it because it was the right thing to do, of course. But ever since then, I’ve been careful to make sure there was never a repeat.”

“You’re not a bad person,” I said, but my heart gave a little squeeze.

“Thanks. I guess if you’ve lived through everything I have—if you saw the pressures and the stresses of people trying to raise children—it’s just not for me.”

I took a deep breath. “I can understand that.”

We spent the rest of the day roaming the city, and as much as I loved his company, a little part of the joy inside me had faded. Both at the thought of a young Jackson, alone and confused and unloved—and at the realization that he didn’t want kids.

I shouldn’t have minded. Hell, this one date was more than I’d ever expected from him, but I couldn’t help it. There was a part of me that felt a little heartsick at the thought.

Later that evening, we walked back to my apartment, and all the while he lectured me on the importance of locking my door and making sure I knew what was happening in my neighborhood. In truth, though, I was only half listening. A part of me was still back on the steps of the museum, thinking over everything he’d said and trying to understand the reason I’d been so affected.

It hit me right as we walked through the door of my building, and it was like a slap.

I was falling for him. Wrong. I had already fallen. Hard. Quirks and stern lips and all, I was head over heels.

Which, when it came to Jackson, was way, way too deep.

Chapter Fourteen

Jackson

Monday came in like a sledgehammer, taking out all my well-laid plans and sending everything into freefall.

I’d just hung up the phone with my legal department, and apparently the merger we’d spent months prepping for was at risk. There was some sort of zoning issue that might hold up a lucrative build, and the company on the other side of the merger was getting cold feet. All through the morning, before any of my regular employees walked through the doors, I was on the phone with managers at the other company, and then merger specialists, and still more acclaimed consultants, until my throat was dry.

To be honest, when the lights of the day went up and people started shuffling through the door, I barely even noticed. Instead, I was focused on the constant steady beat of my heart and the icy dread slowly seeping into my veins.

Of course, I wasn’t worried about myself. Hell, I wasn’t even worried about the company. Ninety percent of mergers didn’t go through, and that was a possibility I’d considered when I’d started this venture. But that didn’t change the fact that even here, on the executive level, some of my employees would be losing their jobs if I couldn’t make this work.

Vaguely, I thought of Clara in HR. She’d spent the last two weeks circling the office to get pledges for her son’s Jump Rope for Heart Disease event. Her husband had died of a heart attack only last year, and it meant everything to her that her little boy was taking action so young.

Then there was Frank. He’d asked for a raise a few weeks ago and for good reason. He’d been with the company almost since its inception, and he was helping to send his grandchildren to college.

The list went on. Every single one of these people had a story to tell—a reason they needed this job more than anything else. And the way I ran my company? There was no fat to trim. Anyone we lost here would be essential, and it would be impossible for me to reckon with the idea of letting them go.

So I wouldn’t.

I just had to figure out how to avoid it.

Clicking on an email labeled Urgent—as if everything else wasn’t—I glanced at my computer screen as a gentle knock sounded on my doorframe.