Page 98 of Boss Me

My reply was automatic. “I am.”

“Not so fast, Coop.” She leaned across the end table that separated us. “It’s not just the shareholders. I care about you, too. Have you talked to your therapist since you’ve been back?”

“I’ve been back five days, and most of that has been hustling to meet with shareholders. When would I have time to talk to her?”

“Make the time. You won’t have my vote until you do. And what about Ben?”

His name on her lips made me want to curl around the hole in my chest. I told her what happened in the office on Tuesday. The recording Weston showed me. How he dragged my father into it and the old fear had rushed back until I said things I didn’t mean.

“That snake!” Jamila exploded. “I wish I’d known that at the board meeting. Weston’s so low he has to look up to see hell.” She brushed her hand against her pearl-colored slacks like she could wipe off his handshake. “Do you need help erasing that recording?”

“Jay took care of it. But it was just the physical proof. I never should have slept with my assistant.”

“Technically—”

“Technically nothing. As the COO, I was wrong to take advantage of him like that. I’m supposed to set an example. Once we’re on the other side of this, I’ll make a statement to the employees.”

“Cooper.” Her voice was gentle. “You can’t be the COO all the time. You have to be a human, too. Humans fall in love.”

“I didn’t think I could. Let myself love anyone who could love me back. But in the end, I was a better person with Ben. Because of Ben.”

“In the end? The Cooper Fallon I know doesn’t give up.”

“Mila, he walked out with his shit and didn’t look back. Besides, I’m toxic. He’s better off without me.”

“Toxic? Dramatic, much?” She smirked. “I admit, it’s going to take some hard work to get your man back after you pulled that shit. But I’ve never known you to shy away from hard work.”

Jackson had told me the same thing. But I didn’t know how to do that kind of work. Give me a stack of spreadsheets, and I’d crank through them. Presentations? I could compose them on the spot. But I’d never had a good look at people putting work into a relationship. I shuddered, remembering my parents’ marriage. The constant fear in my mother’s eyes.

“What if I—what if he doesn’t want me back?” I picked up the mug of tea and sipped it to hide the tremor in my lips. The tea was revolting, and I spat half of it back into the mug and coughed the other half into my elbow.

She laughed. At me. But the anger didn’t rise into my chest the way it usually did on the rare occasions someone—usually Jackson—mocked me. My heart hurt too much.

“Of course he wants you back. He was over the moon for you when I saw you on the island. He needs you to prove you care about him.”

“Jay said I need to make a grand gesture.”

She snorted. “I don’t know about that. You have to prove you’re serious about him.”

“I’m plenty serious. But I need to think about what’s best for him, too. What if that’s not me?”

She waved her hand like my shortcomings were light enough to waft away on the ocean breeze. I knew better. They were massive. Heavy. They’d weighed me down for years. I couldn’t let them crush Ben, too. What I did in the office last week flattened him. He didn’t deserve that.

“We’re going inside.” Jamila stood. “We’ll get you something to drink, something to eat. You’ll think better then. And we’ll make a plan for Synergy and for Ben. If you carry it through, if you promise to take more vacations and see your therapist regularly, I’ll vote against the merger.”

With Jamila’s vote, we might have a majority. I was less confident about her help with Ben. She’d had even more meaningless relationships than I had. “No more chamomile.”

She stood and pulled me to my feet. Her arms went around me, and I relaxed into her hug. I hadn’t felt that safe since I’d eased out from under Ben our last morning on the island. “Okay.”

I let her lead me inside. Because one thing I’d learned through all this was that the only way I could regain control of my life was by giving up control.

That afternoon, I tracked down my mother. If I’d remembered it was Sunday, I wouldn’t have bothered calling her security detail. There was only one place she’d be.

Even though Mass had been over for hours, the scent of incense clung to the building like vines on the trees on the island. Bitterly, I turned away from the doors to the sanctuary. God hadn’t saved us from Mick Fallon. His Church hadn’t saved us. I’d saved us both.

I found her in the donation closet. A skinny young Latina clutching a swaddled baby to her chest stood nearby, her wide eyes on my mother as she dug through plastic bags of clothing. A black eye swelled on the woman’s tan skin.

Mamá emerged from the bag and held up a pair of black pants and a garish floral blouse like she’d found the cure to cancer. “Pruébate estos, querida.” She extended them to the young woman.

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