Boss of Me (A Steamy Office Romance) Page 7

  “Chelsea, hold on-”

  She’s hung up. Her words are like a knife through my chest. I feel like someone’s pulled the rug out from under me. It’s not the fact that I’m being dumped that confuses me. It’s the fact that something so big has come up, and that instead of turning to me for strength, she feels like she has to go at it alone. As if something like this would be a burden to me, when that is the last thing I feel. If she thinks I’m going to give up on us that easily, she’s wrong. What we have is good, and I’m not going to back down without a fight. I-I love her goddamnit! I think, and it’s both a surprise and a certainty. I do.

  I feel a rush of regret that I didn’t insist on accompanying her. I should have. Chelsea told me that Steph wanted to go home too, which was why I relented, but now I know that was the wrong thing to do. Something bad had happened. I should have been there to hold her when she got the news. Anger at my own stupidity eats at me, making me twitchy. I can’t stay here. I have to go to her so we can fix this.

  Right away I head towards my closet where I keep my rolling suitcase for business travels. I don’t need much, a shirt or two, a pair of jeans, some underwear. If I end up staying longer, I can always buy stuff. I try her cell phone, but she’s turned it off. That or she’s ignoring me because I went straight to voicemail. I hope that it’s because she’s worried I’d convince her otherwise. Why else would she be avoiding me? It hurts that she thinks I can’t help her through it. That having me there would make things harder, but I’m determined to prove her wrong.

  I’m almost out the door when my phone rings, and I answer, thinking it’s Chelsea. It’s not though. It’s someone I’d rather not hear from.

  “Brandon! Is that really you? Do you know how hard you are to get a hold of?” She gives a trilling laugh that tells me exactly how unfunny it all really was. All I can think of is maybe I’m hard to get a hold of for a reason, but I hold my tongue. I want to be on the road already, and I have no desire to prolong the conversation at all.

  “Renee,” I say shortly.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She’s a headhunter, specializing in upper management positions. I’m grateful that she got me to where I am now, but as I’ve tried to make clear, nicely then less so over time, I don’t want to be anywhere else. This company is where I plan on making my mark.

  “What can I say? I’m not interested in whatever it is you want to talk to me about. I’ve built a solid foundation here. I’m on track for an executive position.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. You don’t want a lateral move. You told me that last time. That’s not why I’m calling you. And you know, if you maybe picked up your phone once in a while, or got yourself a secretary who remembered to let you know that I’m calling, maybe you’d know that. I’m calling you because Whittaker International is willing to offer you a position. COO of their line of Cyclone energy drinks.”

  I can hear the triumph in her voice, like she’s caught the biggest fish in the lake. But I don’t see it that way. Cyclone is a relatively new product, though their parent company Whittaker International owns enough soft drink brands that it’ll probably do fine. I’d be starting over again though.

  “Renee, it’s great that you thought of me for this-”

  “I haven’t finished,” she cuts in. “They’re willing to offer a very generous signing on bonus you know, and they’re willing to pay for relocation costs to Atlanta as well.”

  That caught my attention. Atlanta was where Chelsea was. She’s resigned and broken up with me because she’s got to be with her mom. Well, who says that I can’t be there with her too?

  “Email me the details Renee. You’ve got me interested, but I have to go.”

  I hang up without a goodbye and head out the door. I have a very long drive if I want to get there before Chelsea goes to bed.

  **********

  Chelsea’s mom lives in a quiet neighborhood, where the houses are old, so they don’t look so cookie-cutter, and have big, sprawling gardens. It looks like an idyllic place to grow up. There’s even a big old tree growing in the yard, perfect for sneaking out late at night. I park on the street and get out quietly. The living room lights are still on, and hopefully that means I won’t be disturbing her mother. I walk up the drive slowly, rehearsing the words that I want to say to her. At the little red door I stop, take a breath, and press the doorbell. It chimes, echoing into the house. There’s the sound of a dog barking and scuffling on the door, then the lock opens.

  It’s her. She’s disheveled, and she’s got puffy eyes from crying, but it’s my Chelsea. I step forward and take her into my arms. There is no need for words. She keeps her back straight for a moment, but then she molds to my chest, fitting snugly into my arms. Everything feels good and right. She begins to sob, and I stroke her hair, murmuring shushes into her ear.

  “I’m here. I’m here.”

  After a few moments she pulls back. I wipe a tear and she laughs a little bit. The dog snuffles around me, hoping for pets so I oblige with a few pats on the head.

  “I can’t believe you drove all this way,” she begins to say, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

  “Right after you hung up,” I say. “Which by the way, only made me more determined to come, so if your plan was to stop me from convincing you, it backfired.”

  I can see how glad she is to see me, which I’m going to take as a good sign. An older woman shows up in the doorway of the living room, an older, blonder version of her daughter.

  “Chelsea, who’s this?” she asks, pulling her cardigan straight.

  “This is Brandon mom,” Chelsea says, still smiling at me with her eyes. “He’s- he’s the guy I’m seeing.”

  I am. That’s a good sign, I think happily as I step inside to shake her mother’s hand. It’s small and fragile, as though she’s wasting away. No wonder Chelsea is so determined to be here for her mother.

  “Brandon, this is my mom, Miriam.”

  “Pleased to meet you ma’am,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry to show up so late at night.”

  “Don’t you worry about it,” she says. “It’s not even nine!”

  The dog thumps his tail on the floor and I give him another pat.

  “Oh and this guy here is Rudy,” Chelsea says. “He’s probably the worst guard dog in the world. He’ll do anything for pets.”

  “Well come on in,” Chelsea’s mom says. “Did you guys want to come into the living room? I was just about to go to bed.”

  Chelsea starts to protest, but her mom flaps her hands at her and gives her a big smile. I walk into the living room, pretending not to see her mother give her a big wink. The room is cozy, with a gas fireplace going in the corner, and overstuffed blue chairs around the room. The dog has come in too, flopping down onto the rug in front of the fire and ignoring me completely now that it had gotten what it wanted from me. I hear her mom make her way up the steps, so I turn around to see if Chelsea followed. As soon as I do, she flies into my arms.

  “Whoa,” I say as I take her into my arms and bury my nose in her hair. She smells fantastic, like coconut and something floral, but more than that, she smells like home I realize. I know that I made the right choice to come. I just have to get her to see that too.

  “I still cant’ believe you’re here,” she says, muffled into my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  Slowly, I tilt her face towards me and give her a slow kiss.

  “I’m here to be with you of course,” I say.

  “But what I said on the phone...”

  I take her slim hand in both of mine, holding onto it tightly. I look into her eyes steadily, so she knows just how serious I am.

  “Chelsea. I have been a fool. I liked you from the first time I laid eyes on you, but I never went for it because I thought my job was more important than love. I thought that once I had what I thought I wanted, recognition, I would be happy. But these past few months with you showed me that that’s not what life is
about. At all. And now that you’ve given me a taste of it, I can’t go back to the way I was. I know you want to care for your mom in her last days. I’m telling you though that I want to stand by you while you do that. I want to make sure you never shed another tear that I can’t wipe from your eyes for you. So I decided to take a job here so you don’t have to choose between me or your mom.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise. A smile tugs at her lips.

  “You-you did? Already?”

  “Yes. Turns out that’s what Renee kept calling about. There’s an offer to head up Cyclone energy drinks right here in Atlanta. It seems like a sign from above. So I accepted and drove out here.”

  “And what if I don’t say yes to all this?” she asks playfully.

  “Well, then I’ll be here to try and change your mind, won’t I?”

  She looks at me for a long moment, searching my eyes. Her smile has vanished.

  “I’m scared,” she says. “Really scared.”

  “I know. But I’ll be here with you the whole way.”

  And that was a promise that I’ve kept. That night was a hard night. Chelsea and I stay on the couch for a few hours, talking about what happened, and what she needed to do for her mother. At some point Rudy ambles over and Chelsea allows him to jump up, rolling all over our laps for a belly rub. And then there are tears, because her mom was supposed to be there for her wedding, for her grandkids’ birth, and everything else that still lay ahead. She let it all out, and I was there. That night Chelsea and I went to sleep in her childhood bed, because I wasn’t going to let another night pass with the two of us apart. Not anymore.

  Epilogue

  Chelsea

  Eight months later...

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “Chelsea?” my mother calls from the other side. “Are you awake?”

  I go to the door and open it. My mom is there. She’s thin, thinner than she’s ever been, but there’s a spark in her eye. She gets to see her daughter get married, and today no amount of pain can get her down. I step back to let her in. She’s got a bag by her side with all her old hairdressing equipment.

  “I was thinking that you can sit in the chair mom, and I’ll sit on the floor.” Even though I know she wants to pretend she’s okay, I know that she’s been more tired than usual. Sometimes I get scared that she wouldn’t make it, but today’s the day. It was her wish to see her daughter married, and I’m happy to say that it is going to happen. She sets her bag on the table and rummages around while I sit at her feet. Her hands gently comb through my hair. It’s relaxing, and we don’t talk too much. There’s no need. Everything we have ever wanted to say has been said in these past few months that I spent taking care of her.

  Slowly, carefully, my mom twists and pins my hair into a beautiful updo. And then Steph comes in with the makeup artist. She’s dressed in a strapless purple gown, and she’s carrying my wedding dress with her. It’s a beautifully extravagant mermaid dress, dripping with crystals and beading along the bodice. Out of the hundreds of dresses that I tried, it’s the only one that my mom and I both agree is perfect. There’s a layer of lace over the bottom of the dress, and a corset back that Steph has to tighten me into. I know Brandon is going to enjoy untying the laces tonight. It’s my little present to him.

  “Oh Chelsea,” my mom says, a tear in her eye. “You look so, so beautiful.”

  “Absolutely stunning,” Steph agrees. “I’m so glad you chose this one over the ballgown.”

  She opens up the box holding my shoes. They’re delicate blue silk peeptoe pumps. And of course there is my veil. I went with a beautiful long, cathedral veil over my hair, the edges decorated with simple lace. Mom rummages into her bag for a moment before pulling out a small jewelry box.

  “Here,” she says. “This belonged to my great-grandmother. She wore it when she got married. You don’t have something borrowed, do you?”

  “No,” I admit. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

  “Then this is perfect.”

  I have to kneel down a little so my mom can put the necklace on me. It’s a gorgeous amethyst teardrop surrounded by tiny diamonds, the perfect thing for my wedding. I touch it and stare at my reflection, trying hard to keep back tears. It wouldn’t do to walk down the aisle with black streaks of mascara, and I know that we’re already running a little late.

  “It’s beautiful mom.”

  “Great-grandma got married to her high school sweetheart when she was sixteen, and they were together for almost seventy five years. Hopefully it will bring you good luck too.”

  I smile at her, and she gives me a squeeze on my shoulders. Together, we troop back downstairs. The hotel is beautiful, perched high in the mountains, with stunning views of the valley below and the surrounding scenery. Chairs have been laid out in the garden, and bunches of fresh flowers adorn the seats. We’re going to be married in front of a gorgeous floral arch. A string quartet plays music as the guests start to arrive and sit down. It’s simple, but perfect. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “You ready?” Steph asks, giving me a squeeze.

  “I’m excited. And nervous. But mostly excited. Maybe a little scared. What if I trip and fall?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says with a confident smile. “Today’s your day. Nothing is going to ruin it, okay?”

  She’s right. Everything is going to be just fine. More than fine. The quartet begins to play the Pachebel Canon and then we start.

  The next few minutes seem to pass by in seconds. My mom goes first, walking slowly down the aisle, and then next thing I know Steph is gone, and then the girl we hired to help plan the wedding is giving me the sign to go. I swallow, my heart racing as I exit out into the sun. Everyone has turned around, they’re all looking, and I’ve forgotten my bouquet!, but it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the aisle is Brandon and he’s looking at me, only me. I somehow manage to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’m smiling a goofy smile, I just know it, and I notice bits and pieces. My mom wiping back tears, Brandon’s little cousin picking at something in the grass instead of minding the rings, some lady in the middle who’s got on a ridiculous flowery hat that must weigh a ton...

  And then I’m there, standing in front of him. He looks so, so handsome today. Really the perfect specimen of a man. His hair is slicked properly so that it doesn’t fall into his forehead like it usually does, and he’s got on a light grey suit and a lavender tie. I can’t believe that this is the man that I get to marry and spend my life with. This is the man who moved all the way here to be with me, and wanted to help take care of my mom, and I can’t imagine being without anymore. He gives me a tender smile, and my knees start to wobble. I feel like I’m falling in love with him all over again. Everyone tells me that that stage ends, the one where you’re lovestruck and goofy whenever you catch sight of your man, but I’m still waiting for that to happen to Brandon and I.

  He looks at me, in that hungry way of his when he really loves how I look. It’s a look that says you’re mine, all mine. The fluttering in my heart increases, until it feels like there must be a swarm of butterflies trying to escape out of my chest.

  On one level, I’m aware of the officiant talking about love and vows and everything. I remember repeating the words. But really, all I can see and think about is Brandon, looking into his eyes and smiling back and seeing his eyes crinkle too in that way that I love. How lucky am I? That all of this is mine, and I am his! He can still make me do a double take sometimes, and I’m just taken away by how much I do love him. And then, finally, we are allowed to kiss. His lips are warm and comforting and familiar, and that isn’t a boring thing. That’s the very best thing, knowing that that will never change.

  Steph was right. Everything is just perfect.

  *****

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  “You own a push-up bra right?”

  It’s my first day on the job as a bartender at the Double D Ranch Bar and Grill. I’m trying to stuff my clothes and my purse inside the tiny little foot lockers for the staff but it’s hopeless. I’d been given my outfit the day before when I came to sign the paperwork, but there was no way on earth I was getting on a bus halfway across town in it. I’m pretty sure I was given the wrong size too, because the clothes look like they were meant for a kid. The little denim shorts look painted on to my butt, and the leather vest cuts right beneath my breasts. All the better to show off a tramp stamp or belly button piercing I guess. A pink cowboy hat completes the cliche.

  I look up at the server who’s supposed to show me around. I think her name is Mindy or Mandy. She at least looks the part with her flowy blonde locks and the butterfly tattoo at her hip. She seems completely at ease with showing off all that skin. Me, not so much. The manager, a big beefy guy who looks more like a customer than the staff had dumped me with her and took off to deal with some crisis in the kitchen. So much for my training.

  “For tips,” she continues. “You’re definitely going to want a push-up bra. Corporate doesn’t say so, but you’re never going to get the good shifts if you don’t show off a little. Customer’s expect it. Victoria’s Secret is having a sale right now. 2 for $40.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I say.

  She nods at me, as if she’s done her good deed for the day.

  “Come on. There’s lots to do.”

  I give my purse one last kick so that I can get the door of the locker closed, then I follow her from the break room. Before we head to the front of the house, we pause by a giant floor length mirror. There’s a small table where someone left some hairspray and a makeup case and Mindy/Mandy wastes no time rooting around until she finds a little bottle of perfume. She spritzes some in her hair, then offers it to me.