Page 67 of The Boss

I hesitated a fraction too long, enough for her brows to knit together. “It’s just work stress,” I cut in before she could press, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, really. I promise.”

Josh groaned from the hallway. “Can we have this heartwarming reunion over food? I’ve been waiting for Christmas dinner all day.”

Mom shook her head but laughed, waving us toward the dining room. “Fine, fine. Go wash up first.”

* * *

Dinner was everything I’d missed—loud, chaotic, filled with teasing and laughter. Josh inhaled food like it was a competitive sport, Emily provided her usual running commentary on the latest gossip, and Dad threw in the occasional dry remark that had Mom shaking her head but smiling.

“So,” Emily said, fixing me with a knowing smirk as she reached for the mashed potatoes. “What’s the scoop from Providence? Any boyfriends?”

I nearly choked on my food.

Josh snorted. “That means yes.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I shot back, feeling heat creep up my neck. “There’s no one.”

For a split second, I felt the name forming on my tongue, the shape of it dangerous, too familiar. But he was never my boyfriend. And I was never his anything. I reached for my drink, swallowing both the words and the ache threatening to surface.

My parents exchanged a look while Emily arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And that totally unconvincing response isn’t suspicious at all.”

I groaned. “Can we talk about someone else’s love life? Like, I don’t know, yours?”

Emily shrugged. “I’ve been seeing this guy from my art history class for a few weeks, but it’s nothing serious.”

Josh made a dismissive sound. “Sounds like a total nerd.”

“Oh, shut up,” Emily shot back. “You’re just mad because you’re still single.”

“By choice,” Josh muttered around a mouthful of food.

I snorted. “Sure, buddy.”

The teasing and laughter continued, and for a little while, I let myself get lost in it. Let myself pretend I wasn’t carrying a hole in my heart the size of an ocean. But no matter how much I laughed, no matter how many times I let myself get caught up in the moment, there was always something lingering at the edges. A quiet ache. A shadow just behind the smile.

Of course, Mom noticed. She always did.

She caught me alone tomorrow evening, while we were cleaning up after dinner and aHarry Pottermovie marathon, her hands buried in soapy water, her gaze flicking to me as I dried the plates. “You’re quieter this time,” she said, not accusing, simply observing. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls when you’re home.”

I breathed out a chuckle. “Work’s been a lot lately.”

Her brow creased. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.” I reached for another plate, keeping my focus on the task, but I could feel her studying me, like she could read between the spaces of my words.

She sighed, drying her hands on a towel. “I just worry about you, living all alone out there.”

“I’m not alone.” The lie slipped out too easily. “I have friends. I have a life. I’m staying busy.”

She hesitated, then nodded, letting it go. “Well, don’t gettoobusy. Enjoy yourself. Be happy. And always remember that your father and I are very proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I will. But honestly, I am happy.”

And I let myself believe, just for a moment, that if I said it enough times, it would become true. But later that night, lying in my childhood bedroom and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars I’d stuck to the ceiling as a kid, with Moose curled up against my side, the weight of it all came rushing back.

The house was quiet now, nothing but the faint creak of the old radiator and the muffled wind outside. The Christmas lightsoutside my window cast a soft, golden glow, their twinkle almost mocking in its warmth. Moose let out a long, heavy sigh, his warm breath fanning gently over my arm. His weight was solid, grounding, the slow rise and fall of his chest steady against my side. I focused on it, on the quiet comfort of him, anything to keep from thinking about the absence of another body next to mine.

30. Zac

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