Fake Love Rich Boss Series

by Peterson , Sloane

  And it’s tempting. I’m so fucking tired of being alone. I’m so tired of constantly wallowing in this self-pity, of dealing with the repercussions for my actions, but all I can think about is her.

  I wonder if she’s alone. I wonder if she’s been getting the money that I send her each month. I wonder what she told Lucy, our daughter, about me. Does she even know I exist? If she does, why does she think she’s never met me?

  I’m sure I could ask Noelle and find out all the answers to the questions that haunt me, but I’m scared of the answers. I’m scared that she’s moved on. I’m scared that I let three years pass because I thought I was doing the right thing, only to lose the one chance to have what I truly want.

  So, I push those thoughts aside. I decide that I’m not in the right mindset to deal with all of this. I decide that instead of going home and wallowing, I’ll go to the bar and have a drink.

  Maybe I’ll be able to forget about the ghosts of my past, of the could and should be’s. Maybe for once, I won’t feel like the monster I know that I am.

  Maybe I’ll drink enough to convince myself to call her, just to hear her voice again.

  Chapter Two

  Cassidy

  I should have known I was going to be facing this alone. Maybe I was just naïve, or hopeful. I had faith that I wasn’t going to be raising a child alone. I went through with every detail of his ridiculous plans, giving up my dream job just because he thought it would be safer. He promised me that it would all be okay and like a damned fool, I believed him...

  I can’t be too bitter. The bitterness gets me nowhere and despite all of it, I managed to walk away with the most beautiful thing in my life.

  She sits in her tiny bear chair, her golden hair in pigtails. She’s eating pancakes, watching her favorite TV show. She’s never known him a day in her life, and she’s well-adjusted. She’s happy.

  I know that in a few years she’ll have questions, but as for right now, I’m happy not having to answer them.

  I finish making my cup of coffee, getting it a nice shade of caramel before I join her in the living room. I take a seat on the couch, letting the TV show play in the background as I focus on the day ahead of me.

  I’m working for Crosby Construction again, a construction company that takes on local and national projects. A few years ago, they got into a bit of a scandal and I was the one who saved the company’s reputation. They were thrilled to hire me back and I needed the job. I definitely had the leverage.

  My attention goes back to Lucy, who’s just picking at the pancake on her plate, no longer taking bites from it, just picking it apart. I sigh.

  “Lucy, I need you to either eat it or give it to me. We have to get you to your grandmother’s before I go to work.”

  Every morning isn’t like this. Some mornings I have to pick up fast food or ask my mom to make her breakfast. Some mornings I don’t get the chance to even think about a cup of coffee.

  Another blessing in disguise about leaving New York and returning home to Georgia is having my mom close by. The fact she can watch Lucy whenever I need her to saves me thousands on trying to figure out childcare.

  “I’m eating,” Lucy says defiantly. As if to prove a point, she picks off another piece of blueberry pancake and stuffs it into her mouth.

  I sigh again. Some mornings are more difficult than others.

  “Don’t you want to go to your grandmother’s today, Lucy?”

  “No.”

  “And why not?”

  “I want to stay home with mama.”

  I work more than I should. I get weekends off, but I can get called in at a moment’s notice. I often do. Working in PR, I need to be able to be there at the drop of a hat to fix whatever problems arise. These days, it’s usually just the need to shut down the old prostitute rumors, but other things pop up from time to time.

  “I know.”

  I place my cup on the coffee table, relenting to the fact that I’m going to be getting to work a bit late today. I get off the couch and walk over to where Lucy is sitting. I squat down next to her, reaching up and giving one of the pigtails a playful tug to make her look at me.

  “How about...we go to the petting zoo on Saturday?” I offer, “We can go see the goats and the pigs and maybe ride a pony?”

  It’s the best thing I can offer her.

  I don’t think Lucy was into it at first but as soon as I mention a pony ride, her grey eyes light up. They’re so much different from her father’s. Her eyes are expressive, a lighter shade of grey.

  “Promise?” she asks, bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable of pouts.

  Reaching out, I tap the tip of her nose.

  “Promise. Now, let’s clean up a bit and go see grandma. I’ll make sure she plans something fun for you today, alright?”

  I’m only fifteen minutes late to work. Not late enough for them to notice or even care. After I promised Lucy a trip to the petting zoo this weekend, she started to listen a lot better.

  Crosby Construction is located in a small office building. It’s reminiscent of a small-town doctor’s office. Based inside a small white building, you enter through a small lobby with roughly five chairs and a faded blue carpet. Barb, the receptionist, is an older woman who hardly smiles and grunts when you speak to her.

  I miss Noelle so much.

  I walk right past Barb and into the back with the rest of the offices. Neil, the current owner’s office is right up front. The door is closed, and I can hear him speaking loudly on the phone.

  My office is towards the back, roughly the size of a small cubicle. It fits a desk and a single chair, with faded white walls and the same faded blue carpet as the rest of the building. It’s never really felt like ‘mine’, but I make it work. I’ve decorated my desk with personal photos and trinkets I’ve collected over the years.

  I think the best part about working at Crosby is there are no memories associated here. I’ve never had a personal connection to any of my coworkers. I’ve never made out with them in a supply closet or cried in their arms on a sofa.

  I’ve never fallen in love in this building, and that makes work a hell of a lot easier.

  I log onto my computer, waiting for the slow dial-up to connect me. As soon as I’m on, I start checking emails. So far, so good this morning. Nobody’s bringing up the fact the old owner, Neil’s father, used to solicit prostitutes while in the building, which ultimately ended his marriage and almost burned the company to the ground.

  As I continue to sort through my emails, there’s a knock on my office door. Looking up, I see Neil.

  “Everything alright?” I ask.

  A part of me is expecting to get a lecture about showing up late for work, instead, Neil offers a smile.

  “Paula was wondering what size Lucy currently is. We have some clothes that Amy never fit into and were wondering if Lucy could use them.”

  I don’t need hand-me-downs. I’m paid enough to clothe myself and my daughter, pay our bills and let us live a pretty comfortable life. It’s nothing like the life I could give her if her father was still involved...but it’s a good life.

  But I also know they’re not asking because I’m struggling. It’s the mountain town hospitality. Neighbors helping neighbors. I was expecting more people down here to look down on a single mother, but instead, I’ve found people are more willing to help.

  “She’s in a 3T,”

  Neil nods, “Got it. I’ll send Paula a message and let her know. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Amy’s been wanting to play with Lucy something awful.”

  “Probably not tonight...” I trail off before scrunching my lips to the side, realization hitting me like a brick wall.

  “Neil, are you trying to hook me up with somebody again?” I make sure the last word is particularly exasperated.

  The last time I had dinner with Neil and Paula, he invited over one of his employees, a sweetheart named Michael, and suggested that we go to dinner together.
They even offered a double-date provided we could find childcare.

  “Well, Michael’s still waiting on a phone call from you.”

  “I’m not dating, Michael, Neil. I’m not interested in dating.”

  “Paula and I just think it would be good for you.”

  Would dating be good for me? I doubt it. Do I really need more stress in my life? Do I really need all the drama that dating involves? Personally, I don’t think so. I tried dating and it just didn’t pan out.

  Who wants to deal with all of that heartbreak?

  “That’s great. You and Paula can date Michael. He seems like a nice guy,” I grin playfully.

  Another plus to working at Crosby is that I’m not scared to death of my boss. Alan Windsor always left me unsettled, always kept me on edge like I was waiting for his approval at every turn. And I hated that feeling. I understand there’s supposed to be some respect between a boss and his employee, but respect and fear are two different things.

  Neil feels like family. He makes the office feel warm. Maybe it’s not where I want to be, but I’m okay here.

  He makes a face at me before rolling his eyes. “Fine. Michael isn’t good enough for you. Give me a week and I’ll find another fine gentleman to sweep you off your feet.”

  “If you can manage to do that, Neil, I will be completely impressed.”

  “You have to be open to love, Cassidy,” he says in a singsong before leaving me alone.

  I roll my eyes even after he’s gone. If only he knew the hell that Oliver Windsor put me through, he’d understand why I’m not eager to let somebody in like that again. At least not until the wound heals.

  I turn my attention back to cleaning out my inbox and emailing marketing back with some feedback on current commercial ideas, what we should touch on, and what we shouldn’t.

  I think about giving Noelle a call during my lunch break, asking what she thinks about going out to lunch with Michael.

  It wouldn’t hurt anything...would it?

  Chapter Three

  Oliver

  The bar is downtown, swank, new. The music playing is soft jazz that begins to sound like the same song playing on repeat. I sit alone at the bar, sipping from my second glass of whiskey. I don’t interact with the people around me. I ignore the cute blonde bartender who winks at me when she brings me refills. She’s always here, always telling me my drinks are on the house. I know exactly what she’s after...but I don’t care.

  Younger me would be all for it. I would accept her offer, stick around until close, and invite her somewhere. Now I hardly look at her. I want to say that I’ve changed, but have I really?

  Before I can wave her down to ask for my third drink, my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. I consider ignoring it...but there’s always a chance that it’s her. I don’t know why it would be. She hasn’t tried contacting me in at least a couple years, but what if? I reach into the pocket of my slacks and grab my phone, seeing Noelle’s name pop up on the screen.

  That’s even stranger than Cassidy calling me. I click the button to answer and bring the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Oliver,” she says my name hurriedly, worry clear in her voice. “I need you to come to the hospital in lower Manhattan.”

  I forget the glass of whiskey sitting in front of me. I straighten up in the bar chair, reaching behind me and putting my suit jacket on as quickly as I can manage while still balancing the phone.

  “What’s going on, Noelle?”

  “Look, just get here,” she says, and I can tell that something’s really wrong. “Please,” she adds quickly before hanging up.

  Reaching into my back pocket, I retrieve my wallet and slam some cash on the bar in hopes that it’s enough to cover my tab. After that, I leave the bar and hail a taxi, worry building in my chest.

  I don’t know what’s going on – and that’s the scariest part. Noelle’s phone call was so cryptic that it left me in the dark. I instruct the taxi driver to head towards the Lower Manhattan Hospital and tell him I’ll pay more the quicker he gets me there.

  The buildings and people zoom past us as we drive. I pull my phone out of my pocket, debating on texting Noelle to see what’s going on. Maybe I could get a better answer through text messages.

  Before I can, the driver stops in front of the emergency entrance to the hospital. I pull the remaining cash out of my wallet and force it into his hand. Getting out of the car, I step through the sliding doors of the hospital, searching wildly for a sign of Noelle or something familiar. The anxiety is coming to a breaking point in my chest.

  “Oliver!” Noelle calls to me from around the corner.

  I feel relief when I see her. I rush over to where she stands, searching her face to see if I can see what’s going on. She’s a blank slate of worry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looks down at the ground before looking back up at me.

  “Your father collapsed.”

  “And?”

  I don’t know why that’s my first reaction. Maybe it’s the child in me, constantly viewing my father as someone invincible. Over the past few years of my life, I think I’ve truly come to believe that he is. He weaseled his way out of a murder charge, saved his company from the brink of bankruptcy.

  “I don’t know,” she says, “I’m not family, so I’m not privy to any information. I didn’t want to bother Alan with questions, so I’ve just stayed out here, waiting for you to come.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  I follow Noelle down a hallway and into one of the elevators. She presses the button for the fifth floor, and we ride up in silence. I don’t know what I’d even say to her if I were to strike up a conversation. We’ve never been friends. The one thing that brought us together is the one thing I completely ruined in my life.

  We step out of the elevator and she points me to room 523. I take a deep breath, feeling some of the anxiety in me begin to quell. He was probably just dehydrated, probably overworked himself, or forgot to eat lunch. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s older now. It likely takes more of a toll on his body.

  I knock on the door and step inside.

  Nothing ever prepares you to see your parent lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of them. Even if your relationship with that parent is rocky...it’s still a hard thing to process.

  He looks up when I enter the room, something softer about his eyes.

  “I told Noelle not to worry you.”

  “She didn’t,” I lie. I step further into the room, coming around to stand by his bedside, “I just wanted to see if it was true.”

  “That something finally took me down?”

  “Exactly.”

  Our relationship has always been complicated. Likely more complicated than I can even comprehend. I’ve always wanted to appease him, wanted to be his golden child. I followed in his footsteps, followed all of his advice. I did whatever he needed of me, but I still feel like I’ve never quite earned his approval.

  Lying in the hospital bed, I realize just how old he looks. His formerly brown hair is greying, quicker than I ever realized. His face is more wrinkled than I imagined. My father no longer looks invincible. He looks frail.

  “Heard anything from a doctor?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my front pockets.

  “Yeah,” he shifts in bed. “He said something about a heart attack. Something minor. Nothing to worry about. I should be out of here by tomorrow.”

  “A heart attack? Minor?” I raise my eyebrows. “That sounds serious.”

  “I realize that it does, but it’s not. The doctor assured me that I just need to start taking heart medicine daily, lessen my stress, the usual. Like I said, nothing to worry about. So, don’t you dare go calling your sister.”

  I hadn’t even thought of telling Allison. I haven’t seen her in a few years. She’s been off on the West Coast, living her California dreams or something. She pulled away when she rea
lized just who our father was, and I’ve always wondered if she made the right decision.

  Maybe I should have done the same thing.

  “Alright,” I say, realizing that there’s not much else left to say between us.

  We’re not a family of sentiments. We’ve never been open emotionally and there’s no point in starting now. He’s fine. No need to worry.

  “You should go get some rest. You’re going to have to step in for me tomorrow. I doubt the doctor will let me go back to work immediately.”

  “Right,” I nod, looking around the room. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call if you need anything, okay?”

  My father does something out of character. He reaches out and takes my wrist, pulling me a few steps closer to him.

  “I will, Oliver,” he says. “Have a good night.”

  “Night dad,” I reach out and give his hand a squeeze before stepping back and leaving the room.

  I find Noelle in the small waiting room, legs crossed, and bouncing as she sits in one of the chairs.

  “He’s fine,” I tell her. “Small heart attack, but he’ll be fine.”

  I watch the expression on her face turn into one of relief.

  “I was scared to death. He was talking to me and then he just collapsed.

  I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Thank you for coming with him, Noelle. And thank you for calling me. It’s appreciated.”

  “He’s your father.”

  I go home and try to get some sleep, just like my father requested me to do. I don’t know what to expect when I walk into the office tomorrow, but if it’s anything like it was when I took over for him last time, it’s always a challenge.

  I shower, crawl into bed, and force myself to fall asleep. I try not to think about my own self-pity sorrows, my mistakes, or the upcoming stress of the next day.

  I’m awoken around five in the morning, someone knocking on my bedroom door. I sit up slowly, running a hand through my hair and turning on my bedside light.