Page 148 of Manhattan Bossholes

“She’s on a break,” Cora said. “And people around here think you’re approachable, so let’s pretend that’s true.”

Pretend?

“I’m here to inform you that we—you and I—are now in charge of our high school reunion.”

“Umm…” That didn’t make any sense. “Since when?”

“Since Trish Baxter—you remember her? Class president the year between us? Anyway, she’s going on a three-week Caribbean cruise with her husband and dropped the preparations in our laps. Well, technically my lap. But it shouldn’t all be on me, so it’s our laps now.”

“What? No.”

“No?”

I gestured in her direction. “Whatever commitment this is, take me out of the equation.” Did she really think I had time to organize a reunion? I barely had the time to help with Vincent’s bachelor party, and I genuinely wanted to go to that. “I wasn’t even planning on turning up to this reunion.”

“Well, that sounds like a you-problem,” Cora said, “because not only will you be turning up, but you will also be helping me oversee the decorating and last-minute vendor coordination. Oh, and playing hosts if Trish doesn’t make it back in time.”

That sounded like a nightmare. I didn’t have time for inane high school bullshit. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes.”

“No. This reunion isn’t even a blip on my radar. It is so insignificant⁠—”

“Look,” she said, dropping her hands to her hips and staring me down. “This might not be a big deal to you, but it matters to other people, and I’m not going to let you get away with flaking out.”

“I’m not flaking out on anything because I was never involved in the first place!”

“When you ran for class president, you made a commitment to your peers, and that was supposed to mean something.”

I scoffed. “Are you serious? Do you even hear yourself right now? That was high school. Who cares?”

“You can’t just bail on commitments when it suits you,” she snapped. “They matter. You can’t just leave people hanging when something shinier comes along.”

What the hell was she talking about? “I never committed to this.” Pretty sure I immediately deleted the email when it came through my inbox.

“Uncle Aiden!” a voice cried as my office door flew open for a second time. A blur of purple sparkles hurled itself at me, and I collapsed back on the sofa as Hailey climbed into my lap, hanging off my neck. “Guess what!”

“Hailey, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” I asked, noticing Cora jolt out of the corner of my eye.

“Ms. Linny is sick!”

“Ms. Linny,” I repeated, racking my brain for who that was. “Your daycare teacher?”

“Uh-huh,” Hailey said, absolutely beaming. “So I get to come to work with daddy!”

Dominic raced in a moment later, looking haggard, his hair disheveled. He’d skipped a button on his dress shirt. “Hale, what did I say in the elevator?”

“We rode the elevator!” she said, tugging on me like I was a set of monkey bars.

“Sorry,” Dominic apologized. “She got away from me. Hailey, it’s rude to burst into Uncle Aiden’s office when he’s in a meeting.” He winked at Cora, silently mouthing like father like daughter.

“Oops,” Hailey said, sheepishly. “Sorry, Uncle Aiden.”

“That’s okay.”

Cora’s face was flushed a deep red that almost matched her hair. She’d always been a blusher, but she only got this red when she was embarrassed. But what about this would have rattled her? Unless she was ashamed a four-year-old could grasp the concept of apologizing for barging into my office better than she could.

Hailey hopped off my lap, dancing to the window to stare out at the city.