Page 70 of Hating the Boss

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to deliver whatever punchline she was slowly getting to.

“We’re getting back together. I always knew we would. We are meant to be. Everyone says so. We just had to pass a few tests first, but we found our way,” she said, her voice airy and light as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my lap.

“I-I don’t understand,” I said, choking on my words.

“He must not have had the heart to tell you yet, sweetie. It’s a pity, really…” She shook her head as she clucked her tongue.

I suddenly felt my stomach drop and rise, like a rollercoaster of shock and panic and sadness. I felt like I was going to throw up, but it wasn’t from the pregnancy. The room seemed to spin on its axis, the spotlights overhead too bright and the smell of citrus too strong, as the oranges and flowers swirled together in a watercolor mess.

I pulled my arm from Angela’s grasp and took a step backward.

This couldn’t be real.

I had lived this before. I’d seen the movie, and I knew how it ended, with me being a lovesick fool with a broken heart. There was no way I was back here again. Memories of my ex came into focus in my head, the only sharp images in my blurred vision. They were then replaced with the moments I had shared with Brad. Moments I thought were real.

Was I just too stupid to see the signs?

I took another step backward, my heel catching on the lip of the glossy white dance floor, causing me to stumble slightly. I looked up to see Angela’s red lips curl into a cruel smile as she watched. She was enjoying this.

“Careful there,” she said with no sincerity in her voice whatsoever.

It felt like the air was knocked out of me as I scanned the room for the one person who would help me find my footing. Who would hopefully tell me this was all a big mistake. But Brad was nowhere to be seen.

I picked up my gown, the beads and detail felt heavier now, and I haphazardly weaved my way through the dance floor. It was the quickest way to the exit. I mumbled apologies to the dancing couples I passed, trying to keep the tears from falling from my eyes. I couldn’t give Angela the satisfaction she wanted. I refused.

I pushed my way through the tall, wooden doors and stumbled out into the hallway. The jazz music and dull murmurs of conversation faded behind me as I ran as fast as I could manage down the hall and out the front doors of The Plaza.

Outside, the air was cool against my skin and it was then that I let the first tear fall, right there on the red carpeted steps and in front of the doormen who looked at me with concern. I didn’t care.

“Ma’am…” asked one of the older doormen, looking at me with concern.

“Please, call me a cab,” I whispered, swiping at another tear that streamed down my face.

He nodded and quickly ran down the steps to hold up his hand. Within seconds, a yellow cab pulled up. I yanked open the door and stuffed myself inside. Struggling with the door, I yanked the rest of the dress into the backseat and finally slammed it shut.

“Brooklyn,” I said firmly.

The driver looked back at me through the rearview mirror and gave me a nod, a hint of pity behind his dark eyes. I looked away and pulled my phone out of my purse. I typed out a text to Brittany.

Me: Please, come over. I’m on my way home.

Brittany: Already? Is everything okay?

Me: Please.

I slipped my phone back in my purse and leaned my head against the window, my tear-stained face stared back at me in the reflection. I internally cursed myself for being so blind. For putting myself through this again. I was so stupid.

Had I really expected this thing between Brad and me to be real? I was just a pawn to get him what he wanted, while all the while he had his ex-fiancée—or fiancée—waiting in the wings. I didn’t understand why he needed me when he had her. He could have saved me from this mess.

Chapter 28 Brad

I tapped my foot impatiently as I looked around the ballroom for any sign of Sarah. This little conversation my father had called me over for was turning into something longer than I had anticipated. Why we had to go over numbers right now was beyond me. We were at a charity gala, for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t we just have a little champagne and enjoy the night, without thinking about work?

This was when I wished my mother were here, to pull my father’s head out of his ass, but she was out of town visiting her mother upstate. I had hoped she would be here to meet Sarah, but we had all the time in the world. At least, I hoped we did. If tonight went according to plan, we would dance and drink and kiss, and none of it would be for show.

“Have somewhere to be?” asked my father, following my gaze with a raised brow.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said. “I left my date over there.”