Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(44)

My eyes flipped open, and I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was clueless.

“This is not about a stupid reading.” I clutched my stomach, trying to hold myself together, almost to the point of hyperventilating. “This is about seeing Jeff when I haven’t seen him in forever. Seeing him happy and in love with my replacement, Barbie two-point-oh, when this …” I motioned between us. “… is all pretend.”

Brad’s hold dropped from my shoulder to my hand. “It’s not going to be that bad. That’s why I’m here, right?” His fingers intertwined with mine, and he gave it a squeeze.

I peered up at him, wishing and hoping that his words were true, and for a tiny moment, his touch relaxed me.

“How do you know?” My words came out as a breathless whisper.

“Because I do. Trust me?” There was sincerity in his tone, one that startled me for a second. The tone he used on his nieces to tell them that everything was going to be okay.

“Do I have a choice?” Because, do or die, I had to trust him at this point. I was banking that being seen with him would lessen the humiliation, maybe even lessen the hurt.

“That’s true.” Then, his sparkling smile made an appearance. “Let’s go, my new fake girlfriend. Let’s see if we can rile up the ex.”

He stepped out of the car and opened my door. After he extended his hand, I placed my hand in his, and he hooked it through his arm, pulling me closer. With the most tender of kisses, he pecked my forehead.

I peered up at him, and a vulnerability I rarely ever showed pushed through. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.” I gathered the sides of my dress, flattened it, and then gathered it again, squeezing the fabric between my fingertips.

He tipped my chin with the flick of his thumb and hummed the beginning of “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” by Bob Marley, and I had a hard time not smiling.

He can be cute. Sometimes.

“Will you stop fidgeting? You’re drop-dead gorgeous with that dress on. Though I prefer you with glasses on, too.” He led us to the front of the church.

I made a face. “You like the glasses? Why?” The nerdy glasses. Why would anyone like my nerdy Harry Potter glasses?

“Because … it’s you.” He said it as though it were fact, no inflection in his tone.

I didn’t have time to contemplate what he meant by that before we were at the steps of the church.

I took one more breath.

It’s showtime.





I forced a smile and kept my eyes steady on the door. If Jeff was here, I didn’t want to see him yet. I wasn’t ready, though I doubted I’d be ready anytime soon. I sent a silent prayer to the Almighty above to wait until the reception because it was inevitable. Maybe my nerves would be calm by then. Probably not.

The insides of my palms began to sweat when everyone’s eyes turned our way—more so, Brad’s way. Every woman gawked—women with dates, married, old, and young—and even straight men, taking him in, sizing him up, and then quickly turning away to realize that they weren’t up to par.

And, in that instant, I knew that I had made the right decision, bringing him here. He was a showstopper.

The pews were decorated with an array of pink and white roses, and cascading white tulle swooped down each row. I gazed at the crucifix in front of me and the stained-glass windows that brought in the natural light through every part of the room.

Though I was practically naked, my body heated as though I were experiencing hot flashes. I shifted and adjusted my dress, centering my neckline.

“You’re fidgeting again,” he said quietly, dropping his arm to link our hands.

“I can’t help it. I’m not used to wearing dresses this tight and revealing, and I cannot freaking breathe.” I pulled at the front of the dress again. Honestly, it wasn’t the dress that was restricting the air to my lungs; it was thoughts of Jeff and my replacement.

Since the runner was already laid down the middle aisle, we walked down the outer aisle and through the side, and as we passed a few people, they openly gawked.

A few ladies stood at the front pew. They seemed about my age, a taller blonde and a redhead. The woman smiled, a little bashful. After, their eyes perused me. I blew out a tiny breath. I could read what ran through their expressions. What the hell is he doing with her?

It was so obvious that they might as well have said it out loud, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t really with him.

So there. Eat that, everyone, with your judgmental eyes.

Brad ushered me down the aisle, and my eyes zoned into the seat where I needed to be, the third row from the front.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Keep your eyes on your destination.

I had one job: to read the second reading about love and marriage and how love was patient and kind and all that jazz, even when I didn’t believe in things like that anymore. A broken heart would do that. It crushed you and changed your beliefs.

I stepped into my pew, followed by Brad; all the while, his hand was on the small of my bare back. Heat rose from where he touched.

He leaned into me, so close that the scent of his cologne filtered through my nose, hitting all my senses.

“You smell good.” With anyone else, I’d be less honest, trying to front it. With Brad, that was all we were—honest and blunt.

“You look divine,” he dished right back. There was a huskiness in his voice that surprised me.