Boss I Love to Hate An Office Romance - Mia Kayla Page 0,82
kids and endless happiness. I wanted to believe in love for me in the future and that my love life hadn’t ended with Jeff and that failed relationship.
“See, that’s the thing.” His brow crinkled, and he absently tapped his fork against the plate. “Love is not even at any one time. Yeah, Dad dotes on Mom, but then once in a while, roles are reversed, and you can just tell Mom can’t get enough of Dad, as though he’s her world. It’s gross really.” He cringed.
I was thrown back to when we’d caught Mom and Dad making out in the car, in our garage, windows fogged up, but thankfully, they were fully clothed.
“That makes no sense.”
Then, he pulled back and took a sip of my wine in the Marco nonchalant way I was used to. “But it does. With you, you always looked at Jeff that way, but …” He trailed off, and the silence was deafening. Though it wasn’t said, I heard it in my head. But he never looked at you that way.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
The boom of my father’s voice had me jumping to my feet.
“Oh, crap.”
Marco chuckled. “I guess he’s back from work. You’d better save your non-boyfriend over there before Dad gets his shotgun.”
“Shit.” I was out of the kitchen and back in the living room, rushing toward my father in less than a second. “Daddy,” I cooed, wrapping my arms around him.
“You.” He pointed a stern finger toward Brad, like the barrel of a gun, steady and firm, knowing its target. “Who the hell invited you?”
I wrapped my arms tighter around my father, teeth clenched in a tight smile and blood pounding in my ears. “I did, Dad. I thought it would be nice for the family to know who I worked for.”
Brad teetered on his newly shined shoes, a timid smile forming. “Sir.” He stepped forward, steadying a hand to shake. “It’s great to finally meet the patriarch of the family. Sonia has told …”
My father narrowed his eyes and took a step toward him, glaring at his extended hand as though it had crap on it. “Yeah, I’ve heard a shit-ton about you. Slave driver, mean womanizer who makes my little girl cry.”
My face turned all shades of red. Why, oh why, did I have the best relationship with my parents and tell them everything?
Brad’s smile evaporated, and it looked like he’d been punched in the gut. And the aunties … well, they stared at Brad like he’d suddenly fallen off his pedestal.
I waved a hand at Brad. “It was one time. Nothing really. Plus, it was when Jeff dumped me. Any and every little thing set me off.”
How the hell did I get out of this one?
“Honey, I’m sure Brad has realized the error of his ways.” My mom reached for my father’s face, placing one large palm on his cheek. “And I’m sure he’s sorry.” She patted his cheek. “Because they’re dating now.” She beamed at him as if this was the best news she’d heard all year.
I groaned internally. Kill me, someone. Quick.
“Dating?” My dad flipped toward me so fast that I thought he would topple over. “Him?” The muscle by his neck twitched, and his vein pulsed in his neck.
And now was the moment of false truths. I could say I wasn’t dating him and have my father kick him out and beat him to a pulp, or I could say all was forgiven and lie because he wouldn’t kill his potential, possibly future son-in-law.
I gulped. “It’s true.” The pained smile surfaced again, the one that made my cheeks hurt from the strain. Then, I stretched a hand out and tilted my head for Brad to come toward me.
The aunts laughed with murmured confirmations of, “I knew it.”
Brad hesitated, but then I stretched my pained grin farther, and he walked toward me and intertwined our fingers. And, at that moment, I regretted ever lying and taking him to that stupid wedding and getting butt-ass drunk. Because one thing I never, ever, ever did was lie to my family. Our bond was real and strong and built on honesty. And, now, I’d have to lie about the breakup.
Brad
“… who makes my little girl cry.”
It took me a moment to realize what she was trying to do or even what she had said, that we were now pretending to be together because all that rang in my ears was, “… who makes my little girl cry.”