Boss I Love to Hate An Office Romance - Mia Kayla Page 0,13

and the mental fatigue rendered me unresponsive. I was too exhausted to try but even more exhausted to argue.

Brad

After dinner, Sarah helped Mason with the dishes while I ushered Mary up the stairs.

“I’m going to get you, you little monster.”

She squealed and ran up the stairs on all fours as I pretended to chase her, my fingers curled and outstretched like monster claws.

Five years ago, when Mary and Sarah’s mother had passed away, and then our parents, Mason and I had decided we would move in with Charles. Mason and I had made a pact long ago that we’d help Charles raise the girls. Natalie’s parents were long gone, and our parents had raised us to know that family meant everything.

From a very young age, the three of us had been groomed by our parents about the business—how to run the company and the ins and outs of the firm—but no one had taught us anything about raising children, most especially girls. But we learned. There was no satisfaction from the day-to-day at work, but soon enough, I’d found out that my joy came from watching my nieces grow up.

Mary was brushing her teeth, and I was enjoying how the toothpaste and foam were getting everywhere—on the sink, on her Barbie pajamas, on the floor.

Mary was meticulous in brushing every tooth, just like the dentist had told her. I didn’t stop her five minutes in because good hygiene was important, after all.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Because I knew she’d had a blast at Great America.

“I … I … yeah … pray … play.” Her words were muffled in the foam, and she had me chuckling.

Her eyes grew saucer-wide, and she giggled, spitting out the toothpaste from her mouth. After she gargled with water, she pointed a tiny finger my way and squinted like I was in big trouble. “Uncle Brad, you did that on purpose!”

I grabbed a towel from the rack, scooped her up in my arms, and dried her off.

“Hey …”

Her laughter was like endorphins to my soul, and I needed to hear it again and again. It was my personal addiction. So much so that I had a video on my phone of Mary laughing uncontrollably when she had been just over a year, playing peekaboo. Every now and then, I’d watch it on replay just to lift my mood.

“I just want to make sure you’re dry.” I wiped off her face, rubbed the towel over her dry hair, and back to her face.

“I’m dry. I’m dry.” She laughed, the sound muffled behind the towel. She pulled the towel off her head and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You and me and a bedtime story. You can tell me about Elsa and Anna or …” She bounced in my hold. “How about a story about Grandma and Grandpa or …” Her tiny fingers tightened around my neck as I walked out of the bathroom and toward her room. “Tell me again about that prince and all these princesses that chased after him because they wanted his crown jewels. I want to hear that story, Uncle Brad. I want to hear that story.” She ducked her head and kissed my cheek. “Please, Uncle Brad. Please.”

Shit. I really couldn’t blame Annie. I would’ve taken Mary to Great America, too. This girl would’ve gotten me to buy her the biggest stuffed animal and eat all the cotton candy in the world for dinner just by her look alone. Not one woman had that kind of hold on me. Mary did though.

“Only if you tell me which part of dinner was the best.”

“Your mac and cheese.” She grinned and rubbed her belly in an exaggerated effect.

She is good. This girl knows how to read and work people. Watch out, men of America.

“Right answer, kiddo.” When I reached her pink explosion room, I gently placed her on the ground.

She leaped up and down and jumped into her bed, kicking off its ruffled comforter. “Uncle Brad?”

“Yeah?” Fuck, she was so cute; my heart was melting all over the carpet.

“What’s protein? Uncle Mason kept saying that mac and cheese had too much carbs and not enough protein.”

I chuckled. “It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

I sat at the edge of the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. She had the lightest blonde hair, just like her mother, Natalie. I wondered how Charles felt every time he looked at her—a walking reminder of his first love.