Boss I Love To Hate Read online

  “Are you okay?” He ran one hand through his dark hair, and his eyes teetered between the computer screen in front of him and the view of something behind me, as though he were uncomfortable to ask the question. “I feel like things have been going on with you lately.”

  Forget it.

  He obviously wasn’t letting me leave without getting whatever was off his chest out in the open.

  I plopped down on the chair.

  If he was uncomfortable, I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

  I shifted in my seat, looking at him flat-on. “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, yesterday …” He averted his stare. “ … you looked upset. You’ve been looking that way for some time now.”

  He’d noticed? Odd.

  “And you’re usually less mean to me,” he noted.

  “You like it when I’m mean to you.”

  “Well …” He shrank into his seat, looking like a reprimanded child. “Normally, you’re funny, but now, you’re just rude.”

  Crap.

  That wasn’t good. I liked to stay the utmost professional at work. I was careful not to let my personal life bleed into my work life. I guessed I should have tried harder.

  I carefully composed my features. “Yes, everything is okay. Fine,” I lied. Everything was far from fine. Tick, tick, tick, tock, tock, tock goes the countdown to the wedding.

  “Okay. Well, if you need anything …” His voice trailed off, and he waved a hand. “Anyway, Kristin just went into labor early this morning …”

  I let out a silent sigh of relief, glad our conversation was off his dating life and my mood swings. “Really?” My spine went stick straight, and a genuine smile surfaced.

  Kristin was Mason’s secretary. She was sweet like candy and ready to pop.

  “That’s great.” Then, I remembered her due date. “Wait, I thought she had a few more weeks.”

  “I guess not. But Mason will need some help booking his trip to Ohio this weekend to next week. Could you do that?”

  “Of course.” I swiped at my iPad and made myself a note. “I have access to his calendar and all of Kristin’s files. Consider it done. Is Janice going?”

  Brad’s face scrunched up.

  Whoops, I’d said Brad’s bad word, the naughty word, the person he disliked the most—Janice.

  “The gold digger,” he scoffed. “I hope to God not. It’s a work event. I wouldn’t doubt it though, given that she likes to tag along on all his trips and spend his money.”

  I ignored his comment and kept on typing. Let’s just say, Brad was not a fan of Mason’s girlfriend. Honestly, I wasn’t a fan. She did give off that gold digger, I’m only into designer, but I can’t afford it on my own vibe. But still, it was Mason’s choice who he decided to be with. Not mine. Not Brad’s.

  “Just ask him. I don’t even want to broach that subject.” Brad ducked his head back into his computer, already done with the Janice conversation.

  “All right. Is that it?”

  He rubbed at his brow again, one of Brad’s many I’m annoyed habits. “Last thing, could you book a double queen at Great Wolf Lodge for this weekend?”

  I blinked. “The water park?”

  That was a strange place to overnight with a woman pal. And he had a new one already? Maybe he meant Sybaris—that couples hotel with mini swimming pools in each room?

  “Yes, the water park. I’m taking my nieces this weekend.”

  I nodded slowly. Don’t judge a book by its fine-ass cover.

  The smile that crept up my face was automatic. “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah, I want it to be a surprise.”

  “It’s going to be a good one.” I stood, but before I left, he called out my name.

  “I’m not a total Scrooge, you know.”

  I peered back at him and threw him a sideways glance. “I didn’t say you were.” Just an unsatisfied, woman-hunting dog. But I kept my thoughts to myself.

  Chapter 4

  Brad

  The weekend flew by, and I had bonded with Sarah and Mary in a way that I’d never done before. We’d had a fun weekend at the water park. The girls had been fed and clothed and safe, and I had acted like a responsible adult all weekend.

  Screw Mason and his fun uncle comment.

  While he was on his business trip, I’d made sure to text him pictures of us—by the waterslide, eating nachos, pillow fighting.

  I hadn’t gotten a response, which only meant he was jealous.

  Sucker.

  “Girls,” I yelled from the bottom of the stairs, “are you ready?”

  Annie had called to tell me that she couldn’t drop off the girls, so I’d told her I’d drop them off this morning. I’d wanted to fire her right then and there, but Mason would have been pissed. It had taken all my energy not to.

  “Sarah, Mary, let’s get going. You don’t want to be late for school.”

  Mary and her cheery way hopped down each step until she reached the bottom. She dropped her bag, rushed toward me, and gave me her good-morning hug. These good-morning and good-night hugs from Mary never got old.

  “Uncle Brad, that was the best weekend ever. Better than Great America, better than that cupcake tour I took with Uncle Mason.” She tilted her head, looking thoughtful, and then scrunched up her nose in the cutest way. “But definitely not better than Disney World with Daddy. Sorry, Uncle Brad.”

  “It’s really hard to beat Mickey.” I rustled her hair and then nodded toward the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready. Go, peanut. You’ve gotta get going before you’re late to school.”

  I peered up at the stairs, waiting for Sarah to appear. She’d been in a mood over the weekend. A much better mood than I was used to, but a mood, nonetheless. I hated that she was turning into a teenager—well, pre-teenager. Couldn’t we go back to the days when she was sweet and happy all the time?

  Hormones were to blame for her transformation. I couldn’t deal with women’s mood swings on a day-to-day basis, but I’d have to deal with Sarah’s. There was no way to avoid it. Any other female and I would have left already.

  “Sarah!”

  We had fifteen minutes to go before I had to jet out of this house and off to drop them at school first before I went to work. Annie was supposed to take them today but had an errand to run. If Sarah didn’t get down here in the next two minutes, we’d be late. I shook my head. Then, I rushed up the stairs two at a time and knocked on her door. I waited a second and then knocked again.

  “Sarah? Warning, I’m coming in.” I waited a little bit before I turned the doorknob and walked right in.

  She was on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, her face wet with tears. My stomach sank and kept on going. Instantly, I rushed to her side but then stopped, unsure of what was the matter.

  Crap. I didn’t do well with crying women, and Sarah was turning into one. Mary was easy. Practically anything I did to cheer her up would work. And it didn’t take much—ice cream, a good joke, candy, toys. But Sarah was more complicated.

  “Sarah, what’s wrong?”

  She had always been closer to Mason. We had a good relationship, but it was different. Sarah was an introverted kid. Where Mary was outgoing and rambunctious, just like me, Sarah was just like Mason. She internalized a lot.

  “What’s wrong? Is it a boy? Do I have to get your dad’s guns out?” I joked, attempting to make her laugh. Though, in all seriousness, if it were a boy, I’d kick his ass. That would be an easy fix.

  She continued to cry, and that unease turned to a squeezing in my chest. My go-to tactics that would normally work on Mary would not work on Sarah, but I’d have to at least try.

  I approached with caution, treading slowly across her plush pink carpet. The pink was the only remnant leftover from childhood. Now, pictures of actors and bands that I didn’t really recognize were plastered all over her walls.

  I sat at the edge of her bed as she cried into her pillow. She’d been crying about the stupidest things lately,
but it didn’t break my heart any less. Times like these, I could remember her mother so clearly. She had been kind and beautiful, and Charles had been so in love. Becky had stepped nicely into the motherly role, but I was sure there was nothing like your own mother. Sarah had been old enough to still remember Natalie; she had formed an unbreakable bond with her biological mother. Mary had never met Natalie, but Sarah remembered her mother so vividly at times.

  “Sarah …” My fingers touched the ends of her hair. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t beat up whoever made you cry.”

  Her head popped up, and she swiped at her eyes with her forearm. “When does Uncle Mason get back?” Her voice was so sullen, so broken.

  I understood their bond, but it gutted me that she needed him when I was right here. She had ushered Mason out the door when he left to go to his Ohio business trip and given him the longest, lingering hug as though he were leaving for a three-month trip to Africa. I was never jealous when it came to women, but with my nieces, Mason and I were always vying to be the favorite uncle.

  “He’ll be back Wednesday, but whatever you have to tell him, you can tell me. I’m your uncle, too.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched together. Then, with a slow shake of her head, the tears began to fall, and she dropped her head into her pillow again.

  We were gonna be late. There was no doubt about it. But there was no way I’d rush her.

  I brushed her hair from her face and bent down to kiss her forehead. Whatever she was crying about, I wanted to fix it, slay every one of her dragons.

  “Sarah, please just tell me. You can tell me anything.” I scooted closer. I wrapped my arm around her and brought her into my chest.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle having kids of my own. My heart broke enough just from my niece’s tears. How would it be if my very own children cried like the world was ending?

  “I’m bleeding.” Her voice was so soft that I leaned in, straining to hear her.

  “What?” I reeled back and searched her face. Then, my eyes scoured her whole body. “Where?” My voice heightened with concern, and I scooted away to get a wider view of her, my hands following my gaze—first, her arms, then her face, and then her shoulders. “Sarah, where?” I almost ran to the door to get the first aid kit. But I had no idea where she was bleeding.

  “No …” Her face turned tomato red. “I got … I got my period.”

  I stood there, dumbstruck, mouth agape, and openly stared at her as though she were a wild animal that had grown horns. I blinked—not once, not twice, but three times. Then, I blew out a slow breath. “Okay …”

  She dropped her head into her pillow and began to cry again.

  It was a wonder how these kids made me feel so clueless sometimes. I could lead conversations in the boardroom. Close out deals as I was eating a bacon cheeseburger. Handle a hostile takeover. But this … this? I had nothing.

  I lifted a finger and then slowly backed up toward the door as though I were trying to escape. My smile was strained, and perspiration formed at my brow.

  Sarah tilted her head, waiting for some response from me but I had none.

  “One second. I’ll be right back.” Then, I shut the door behind me.

  Sweat coated the back of my neck. I paced up and down the hall and then decided that I needed Mason’s help after all.

  I could call Charles and Becky, but Mason and I had made a pact not to bother them during their honeymoon unless it was an absolute we can’t handle it emergency. This would constitute for a call, but still, I’d try Mason first.

  I reached for my phone in my back pocket and leaned against the wall in the hallway. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”

  When it went straight to voice mail, I left a message. “Mason, call me back. It’s an emergency.”

  Then, I texted him.

  Emergency. The girls. Call back. ASAP.

  I took deep breaths as though I were hyperventilating. Then, I bent down, hands on my knees, and tried to control my breathing.

  I called him again and no answer. Texted again and waited.

  Yes, I’d freak him out, but I didn’t care. I needed advice and stat.

  Every second felt like hours, as I knew that I had my crying niece behind this wall, feeling all alone and helpless.

  A few minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hey …”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and waited to catch my breath.

  “What? What happened?” Mason’s voice heightened with worry. I pictured him pacing, wearing a hole into our Ohio office floor. “Brad, what the heck is wrong? You said it was the girls. What’s going on?”

  “Chill. Just relax.” Even though I uttered those words, I was far from relaxed. “So … Sarah … she …” My voice trailed off.

  “What? What happened with Sarah? I swear to God, Brad. I was in the middle of a meeting and just stood and left when I got your text. What’s going on?”

  I sighed and rubbed a heavy hand down my face. Maybe it was wrong to call him because this man was freaking out way more than I was, and I was in pretty bad form.

  “She got her period, man. And, honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

  The line went silent. The man who was never silent and always had words when it came to speaking to me suddenly had none.

  “Mason? What am I going to do?” I needed help with this one, much as it hurt my pride.

  “Give me a second,” he mumbled into the line.

  I tapped my head against the wall, waiting and waiting and waiting. My niece was still bawling her eyes out, probably weirded out at the way I had left the room, and here I was, waiting.

  “What are you doing?” I shot out, patience gone.

  “I’m Googling what to do.”

  I chuckled without humor. Clearly, neither of us had a clue.

  Finally, he piped in, “Just tell her it’s normal. Says to stay calm. Get her some supplies.”

  I pushed myself off the wall. “What do you mean?” I grumbled. “What supplies?” I was picturing pencils and paper and erasers and folders, which I knew wasn’t right. “I don’t want to do this.”

  He sighed sympathetically. “This is gonna get complicated, brother. I mean, has anybody ever talked to her about tampons, the changes in her body?”

  I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and make loud noises like a little kid. I’d rather do that than deal with this shit. “Don’t they teach them this in school? What the hell are they teaching them then? Their tuition is high enough where this shit should have been covered.”

  “This is usually a big moment for kids her age.”

  “What does that mean, big moment? How do you even know this? Is that what it says on Google? Have you lived through your period?” I ran a hand through my hair, wanting to pull at the ends. “How the hell do you know?” My frustration was showing through my tone.

  “Fine,” he said, resigned. “I think we need to call Charles.”

  “Absolutely not.” I paced the hallway next to her door, one hand on my hip, thinking of my next step. This was taking longer than I expected. “We will not call Charles. I told him we would handle this when they were planning their honeymoon. They wanted to take the damn kids on the honeymoon with them, but you and I agreed that was inappropriate, and we wouldn’t allow it. And, we said we’d handle it, so we’ll handle it. We’ve got this.” I was rambling now and didn’t even know what I was saying.

  “Fine, I’m calling Janice then, and I’ll ask her to come over.”

  His girlfriend? Yep, that will be a negative.

  “Hell no. That’s the last person you’re calling. Why would you want your girlfriend around our nieces? To teach our girls to be cold-blooded, money-hungry—”

  “You’re an ass,” he snapped. “Fine, you don’t want to ask Janice? Deal with it yourself.” And then he hung up.

  I stared at the phone, blinking. Well, great. Now what?

  It took me a couple of minutes to coll
ect myself.

  I was a grown-ass man. Vice president to the largest intercontinental printing corporation. Nothing scared me. I could handle this. Right?

  Somehow, the internal pep talk I was giving myself wasn’t working, but I had left Sarah alone for long enough. I pushed through her bedroom door. She was in the same spot. No longer crying, though her eyes were red, and she was still gripping the pillow against her chest like it was a lifeline.

  “What did Uncle Mason say?”

  She had to know I had called Mason. Great.

  I cleared my throat. “He said we needed to have a little talk.”

  Sarah shifted on the bed, looking anywhere but toward my direction. She was uncomfortable with the situation, and that should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t. I wanted her to feel like she could talk to me about anything, even the stuff I didn’t want to talk about. I wanted her to feel like she could trust me.

  I tried to recall my early years as a teenage boy, but then I clamped those horny teen memories down. That thought backfired because, now, I wanted to lock Sarah up in a tower, just like that Disney movie I had watched with Mary.

  “Do you want me to call your dad?” Because, if she really did want to talk to her dad, she could. This was a major change in a young girl’s life, as Mason had said … or Google, whichever.

  “No.” She dropped her head, staring at the hands wrapped around her pillow in a tight vise.

  “So …” I cleared my throat, dreading the words about to come out of my mouth. “When a woman hits puberty … there are changes—”

  “We’re not talking about this, Uncle Brad.” She let out a low laugh. A laugh that eased the tightness in my shoulders. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

  “All right.” I let out a giant breath. I was about to ask her if she knew what a pad was because we were not taking the tampon route. I was not about to give a tutorial. I wasn’t explaining where to stick it in. Nothing was going up there until she was thirty, as far as I was concerned.