Page 515 of Manhattan Bossholes

“But it does. It changes everything.” How did he not get this? “You think I’m going to be with a man who’s publicly dating someone else? After what I went through with Dylan, you really think I’d do that?”

“It wouldn’t be real,” he argued. “Just a show for the press.”

“Not real?” I shot back. “Like us, at Bernie’s party? You said that wasn’t real. We were just a fake couple, right? Will you and Heidi be a fake couple like that?”

That, at least, seemed to leave him at a loss for words—for all of a minute or so. But then he straightened up, a stubborn scowl on his face. “You know it’s different. You’re just being stubborn.”

“What about it is different?” I pressed. “I was useful to you, I was good for Branson Designs, so I got a fake relationship out of it. Now Heidi is useful, she’s getting you the publicity you need, so she gets a fake relationship too. I believe that you don’t really care about her.” After the things I’d heard him say, I didn’t really have any doubt about that. “But what about me? Why am I different? Why is what we have different?”

Because I love you.

That was all he had to say. Or maybe It was never fake with you at all—I was just too scared to admit it. If he’d only say that, everything could be okay again. All I needed was to know that he truly cared about me—that what we had was real. If he could assure me of that, then I’d do whatever it took to get us through this. I just had to know that I mattered to him, that I was more than a useful employee, a fun sparring partner, a good fuck.

The silence stretched out endlessly…and then his phone rang. He jumped to grab it from the breast pocket of his blazer, and my stomach dropped. Apparently, I was taking second place even in a moment like this.

I guessed that was my answer.

“It’s Christopher,” James said with a frown. “He watched the livestream and he probably has feedback, but can’t it wait?”

“You would think…” I began but realized that James had already answered.

“Hey, Christopher, what’s up?”

I couldn’t even muster any surprise or outrage. I felt all tapped out. Utterly empty. It was as if this proof that my feelings didn’t matter to James at all made them all go away. All that was left was cool logic.

James didn’t love me. I would always be an afterthought. And that meant…it was time for me to leave.

“Okay, that’s it.” I put my hand on the doorknob and James finally looked at me. “I’m leaving. Whatever we had—real, fake—it’s over.”

“Natalie, hold on⁠—”

But it was too late. In every way that mattered, I was already gone.

JAMES

“What did you say, Christopher?” I asked my brother. I was having trouble concentrating on anything but the way Natalie had looked when she left. I wanted desperately to run after her…but hadn’t I spent all evening telling myself that I couldn’t give in to my impulses when it came to her? Family and the business came first, always. That was the rule I had made for myself. And that meant this call with Christopher took priority. “You’re too quiet, I can barely hear you. Is this about the show?”

He’d been mumbling and at first I assumed that he was just overwhelmed by the show, but the more he talked the more obvious it became that something strange was going on with him.

“Amanda…” he slurred.

“Amanda what? Speak up!” I was frustrated by his timing and bizarre behavior. But maybe if we could wrap this up quickly, I could still get to Natalie before she got too far away. Surely all we needed was a few more minutes to talk and we could work this out. Surely she didn’t really mean it was over.

“Amanda is…engaged. And pregnant.”

It came out in a sob, and I suddenly realized what was happening. His ex, the woman who told him after they were married that she never wanted children, was going to have a baby with another man.

“Oh, bud, I’m so sorry.” I sighed. “That’s rough. You want me to come over?”

Christopher made a noncommittal noise.

“Hey, talk to me.”

I heard a lot of rustling.

“I’m just so tired,” he slurred. “I need to sleep now, m’kay? Good night and goodbye, brother.”

Then it hit me. His speech and weepiness felt familiar. “Did you take something? Christopher?”