Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(20)

We both perused the selection of pads.

“There’re so many different brands. But they’ll function the same way.” I lightly tapped her left hand, and she cowered into me, linking her arm through mine.

Sarah wasn’t a typical pre-teenager. I should know. I was the oldest of six and had seventeen cousins, ranging from seven to twenty-five, and the majority of those teenagers were hormonal and rambunctious. Sarah was quiet. She’d said five words since we left the office, and it was mostly one-worded answers to Brad’s questions. I’d guess she didn’t open up to people much. Where most of my teenage cousins were into makeup, skinny jeans, and heels, Sarah was a Converse, boy-jeans kind of girl.

Brad trailed behind me. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his eyes perused the feminine product aisle, his face devoid of any emotion.

He plucked a few boxes from the shelves and began to read the labels because, of course, he had to know it all. “This one has wings. This one doesn’t have wings. What do you prefer, Sonia, wings or without wings? What do you recommend?”

“Neither,” I deadpanned. “I prefer tampons.”

The color drained from his face, and he cleared his throat. “Um … I don’t think she’s ready for that yet.” Then, he plucked another box off the shelf. “How about these? They come with a little packet that you can put your product in. Isn’t that nice?” He ended that with a smile.

Sarah’s lips pressed together, and her gaze flicked upward. She was not a bit amused.

“Look, these are scented.” He gritted his teeth in the most uncomfortable smile.

I laughed under my breath when he lifted the box to his nose and inhaled deeply. I should snap a picture and send it to our company paper, which all the employees received. That’d be comic relief for the day—Brad sniffing a box of pads.

“Uncle Brad, please stop it.” Sarah plucked the box from his hands and placed it back on the shelf.

“I’m just trying to help.” He picked up another box and began to inspect the label.

Sarah completely ignored him and peered up at me as she bit her bottom lip. “I’ll just take whatever you use.”

Brad turned toward us, box abandoned, eyes wide. “No. No. No.” He shifted with unease. “I don’t think Sarah’s ready for that. Like I said, we have to wait for Becky to discuss the …” He pointed to the tampon box as though he was unable to say the word.

So mature.

“You know what? I use these sometimes.” I snatched the regular maxi pads off the shelf. “They’ll do the job.”

Sarah’s eyebrows pulled together, her gaze dropping to her black-and-white Converse shoes. “Thank you.”

My insides softened a little, and I tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear.

I lifted my gaze to Brad, who was still intently studying his niece as though she were a wild animal that no one could tame. And, out of nowhere, Sarah covered her eyes and rushed down the aisle, crying.

“Shit. I just don’t understand teenagers. Isn’t that what she wanted?” He linked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I have no idea what to do here.”

For the first time, Brad looked so helpless that I couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

I placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Let me talk to her for a second. Stay here.”

I found Sarah in the nail section, studying a bottle of dark pink. She stared blankly at the label, reading it as though it had the secret to all her problems.

I sighed. The teenage years were tough. From feeling like you wanted to crawl out of your skin sometimes and not knowing who you were to the hormonal stages

“I know it sucks, and it’s a little uncomfortable to be here with someone you barely know and, worse, your uncle. But at least, he’s trying, and hopefully, your mom will come back soon.”

“My mom’s dead.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and I strained to hear her. “She died, giving birth to Mary.”

My heart clenched. Crap. I had known that. I’d meant Becky, not her biological mom. Damn it, I should’ve been more careful. A heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach. I had known Charles’s wife had passed, but I hadn’t known the cause, but now that I knew, it felt more real—deeper—than hearing it through the grapevine at work.

“I’m sorry about your mom, kiddo. I’m sure you want her to be here instead of talking to me.”

“It’s not like I don’t love Becky …” Sarah’s voice strained, and she dropped her lashes to hide the hurt. “I just miss her.” Her lip quivered. “A lot of girls in my class were starting to get theirs already. And they’d say things like, ‘My mom took me here, and we had ice cream after I got my period,’ or, ‘My mom gave me a book, and we went over it together.’”

My heart hurt for her and the sadness in her eyes and the longing in her voice at her loss because there was nothing like a mother. I knew because I had the best one out there.

My mother was my best friend, my confidant. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Thinking about Sarah and how she’d lost her mother at a very young age tore at my insides. I could feel her sorrow, this huge, painful knot inside.

I reached for her clenched hand and squeezed, needing to comfort her. The sadness was heavy in her big brown, innocent eyes, but eventually, her fingers relaxed in mine.