Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(72)

“Uncle Brad.”

Sarah startled me in her GAP T-shirt and sitting at the edge of the stairs.

“You have school tomorrow. Get to sleep.” I waved my hand, and she moved off the stairs so I could pass.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her hair was piled up on top of her head, and it reminded me of Sonia’s don’t give two shits bun.

“If this is about your womanly issues or boys or school, we can chat about that in the morning.” I didn’t want to be an asshole, but my patience had been spent on Mason. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Not to Sarah, who was innocent in this situation.

I walked right past her to my room, but stubborn Sarah followed.

“You’re going to be cranky as hell tomorrow, so why don’t you go to sleep?”

“I was sleeping until you guys started yelling at each other.”

I pushed open the door and stepped over my pile of laundry that I needed to send to dry cleaning. “Blame it on your other emotional uncle.” Now, I was really being mature. I stopped, picked up the pile, and threw it with force into my laundry basket right by my bed as though the laundry basket were the cause of my foul mood.

“All you have to do is tell her the truth,” she said like it was so simple.

“What?”

“Sonia. All you have to do is be honest with her.” Sarah stood by the door, leaning on the frame.

“Sarah …”

“Just listen to me, Uncle Brad. Please?” she begged.

My features softened, and I let out a long sigh and dropped my ass on the bed.

“Okay.” I scrubbed one hand down my face, feeling the weight of not knowing how this would turn out on my shoulders. Then, I let it out, to the only person who would listen.

“I know Sonia. She won’t think it’s genuine.” I was like the guy who’d cried wolf.

The bed dipped beside me, and Sarah dropped her head on my shoulder. “Then, you tell her that. That you’re new to this, but you like her.”

As I peered down at my twelve-year-old niece, still so innocent in the world, I wondered … Could it really be that easy?

“Uncle Brad, take a chance. I really, really, really like Sonia.”

I touched the tip of her nose. “I do, too, Sarah. I do, too.”





Sonia

I placed my elbows on my office desk, leaning into the phone and reading the text.

Sonia! I’m so glad we were able to finally meet. Let me know when you’re free so we can do dinner.

Who is this? I texted the unknown number.

Jean. :)

I blinked and stared at my phone. Jean. Jean. Jean. But there was only one Jean that I knew.

Then, tiny, invisible spiders prickled my skin. It couldn’t be. How the hell did she get my number?

The phone blinked red, right by my keyboard, indicating an incoming call for Brad, but I ignored it.

I bit my pinkie nail, and after staring at the phone for far too long, I texted back.

Dinner? I typed back, hoping it was another Jean, some long-lost classmate or acquaintance that I had forgotten about.

Yes! I can’t wait. Jeff and I are free this Friday. Will you and Brad be available then?

Holy shit.

I typed, I’ll check.

Then, I flew off my chair and straight into Brad’s office for the second time this week.

His head peeked up from the sea of red roses in front of him. Oddly, they weren’t in a vase.

“How does Jean know my number?”

His eyes flipped to mine and back to the dozen red roses simply lying on his desk.

“Who are those for?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. But what I do want to know is how Jean got my number.” My hands rested on my hips, and my heels tapped against the marble floor. “Brad?”

He stood, stumbled, and approached without his usual confident swagger. Was he drunk this early in the afternoon?

“This … these are for you.” He stepped into me, toe-to-toe, and held out the roses wrapped in tissue paper and pulled together in a red bow. He teetered on his heels, his eyes meeting mine and then darting to something interesting behind me.

I followed his line of sight to the emptiness behind me and inhaled deeply, trying to see if I could smell liquor.

I blinked. “Me? Why?” My voice croaked and choked on my words. I stared at his hand as though it were on fire.

“Uh …” he stammered, and Brad never stammered. “I’m not used to this type of thing. This sort of thing.”

I blinked again. I’d never seen him like this. It was like he had grade school dance nerves. Why?

Then, a lightbulb went off in my head. Oh! “I forgive you.” I smiled and reached for the beautiful bouquet.

He had apologized up and down and left and right for making me cry at work after my family dinner, and now, the flowers were an extension of the apology. I got that.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” He pulled at the flowers now in my hand.

“So, you’re not sorry?”

Now, we were playing tug-of-war with the roses.

“Of course I am.”

“Well then, let go!” I almost fell back from the force of tugging too hard. I blew out the hair from my face and steadied myself on my platform heels. What the hell is wrong with him? “Anyway, back to Jean.”