Page 5 of The Boss Problem

My knees gave way, but before I could hit the sidewalk, Sean caught me, stabilizing me with his arm while my wobbly legs slowly regained strength.

“You look pale,” Sean said while I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe.

I came up for air at last, gasping as though I’d recently surfaced from an icy-cold lake.

I stared at my phone, still in my hand, as though it were a joke. I forgot about my coffee fight. I forgot about scoring a point over the strangely handsome man.

“Bruce,” I breathed out, my voice half sobbing, half urgent as I leaned against him. My fingers caught the edge of the cup, and the Americano toppled over me.

Sean cursed, pulling me away from the spill, but it was too late. His shirt got some of the drink, causing a big brown splotch to appear on his suit, while my white dress got the rest of the Americano.

I stared at the mess hollowly while Sean’s hands gripped my arms and pulled me a step back. I stumbled, and while I didn’t entirely fall, I ended up leaning into his side. For a minute, all time stopped as he held me, his grip tightening around my arms. He felt strong.

Strong and safe, I thought, trying to stand up.

Bruce’s rejection stung more than it should have because he took down Henry with me. Henry, who still suffered from that horrible accident on his way back from his friend’s house, ten years ago, all because of me. He’d pushed me out of the way when a car swerved to avoid a squirrel and hit him instead.

Sean held me, arms steady on mine. This time, he was looking at me—really looking at me—and I was looking back, stupidly searching for some explanation about what was happening to my perfectly ordered life. Those dark brown irisessoftened while he returned the gaze, eyes darting over each angle of my face, as though he was searching for something too.

Nothing. I had nothing. All I could think of was that Henry was waiting for me and I had broken Bruce’s heart. I’d had to choose between breaking Bruce’s heart or Henry’s, and I had known which one I could live with.

I hate my life.

I rubbed the trail of salty water away from my cheeks, but my eyes easily made more to replace it. Something in my expression and something to do with tears on my cheeks made his expression harden.

“I know people cry on their wedding day, but I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this. Did he …” He didn’t complete his sentence.

“Yes,” I replied. I hung my head, remembering my joy earlier in the café about how well this week had been going for me.

I looked at the man’s clean-shaven face and his set jaw. This was an unexpectedly long time to spend in a stranger’s arms, but it didn’t feel awkward at all.

“Shit,” I muttered and sat down on the ground.

The first person to know I was jilted was a complete stranger.

“I’m not getting married after all,” I managed to say.

The look on Sean’s face was one of incredulity. “You need to tellhimto go to hell.”

I said nothing, and Sean sat down next to me. He was silent for a bit.

When he spoke, his voice was dry. “I don’t see the point in weddings myself, but I can realize what an utter fool he is for breaking it off when all you asked was if you could reschedule. A man isn’t fit to marry a woman if that’s his response to your request. He’s an asshole, a bloody bastard, and I hope he lives to rue this day.”

I turned away, ashamed at the burning sensation in my eyes. It wasn’t completely Bruce’s fault, but Sean didn’t know the entire picture. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of Sean, but I was also incapable of responding to him.

There had been clues. Small, nagging ones that showed he didn’t value my brother as much as he should have. Instances where he constantly questioned my choices. Like when, in a fit of anger, he’d demanded to know if I was going to spend our married life ferrying my grown-up brother to his college classes. Or the time he’d complained about Henry’s increasing medical bills that I’d been paying out of my own wallet.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to tell this man that I’d pushed those red flags under the carpet, hoping to God that I was overthinking things.

I hadn’t wanted to doubt the one good thing in my life. I’d resolutely believed Bruce was the missing piece that would make our home a family. Our home that included Henry, my twenty-three-year-old brother, who was all grown up, but was wheelchair-bound because of my negligence.

Until a year ago, when I’d started dating Bruce, Henry was all I’d had in this world. Our mother had passed when we were little, and Dad was left with the responsibility of taking care of eight-year-old me and three-year-old Henry. When Henry got into an accident at the age of thirteen, unknown to me, Dad was close to his breaking point.

Some time later, when I quietly told Dad about my acceptance into Juilliard’s Dance Division, it turned out to be the last straw. He knew what that meant. I’d possibly live in the dorm, and he’d be left alone with Henry, caring for him. But instead of talking it out with me and trying to find a way to share the care for Henry, Dad left.

I was eighteen, and I’d become Henry’s caretaker.

Financially, medically, and emotionally for the past ten years.

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