“Right.” She goes back to her desk and doesn’t look over at me once she sits down.
Which is probably fine.
Either that or it’s terrible.
I mean, I did tell her we wouldn’t be discussing our extracurricular activities at the office.
And I don’t have time to wonder what’s up, because of the shit-ton of calls and emails and the half a shit-ton of contracts I have to go over before we leave for Cleveland. Maddie knows this better than anyone. Which is why she’s leaving me alone to let me work instead of getting into a discussion about her feelings. Which is why she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. Which is why I don’t want to lose her.
* * *
After a few hours of powering through the most urgent calls and emails and skimming through a few contracts, I get up to stretch my legs. Standing just inside my doorway, I wait for Maddie to look up from her computer monitor. She doesn’t seem to be typing or reading. She’s just staring ahead.
“Should we order lunch?” I ask, startling her.
She contemplates this for an excruciatingly long time, like I’ve asked her if she ever wants to eat lunch again for the rest of her life. “Hang on,” she finally says. She stands up and rounds her desk, heading toward me. She gestures for me to step aside, walks into my office, and shuts the door.
“Well now. I wasn’t talking about ordering that kind of lunch, but let me close the blinds…”
She sighs, a long, sad sigh.
“Dec. I’ve been thinking about this a lot for the past couple of days, and I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
And there it is. The other shoe.
Most days, I’m beyond grateful to have the mind of a legal professional. Most of the time it keeps me out of trouble because I’m always thinking ahead, looking at things from every possible angle. I wish I could say that I didn’t see this coming, and I wish I could say that I hadn’t planned a response for it. But I did, and I have.
Here we go…
Thirty-One
Maddie
YOUR NUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE
Declan studies my face for about a year, and I can’t for the life of me read his expression.
Fucking lawyers.
I’m finally ready to have an actual discussion about my real feelings and what I want, but I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s going to present his closing arguments to the jury. I’m about to get run over by the attorney train.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and says, “Yeah, I know. Too good to be true, right? Just a matter of time before things get complicated.”
“Declan…I just can’t—”
He cuts me off and starts pacing back and forth. “No, I get it, you’re right. Let’s stay ahead of this. The whole point of that document was to ensure that we don’t let this interfere with our work and our dynamic here at Sentinel.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly. So as long as you aren’t planning to sue me for sexual harassment, then we’re good.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, shaking my head. The usual response to his baloney general counsel personality, but Jesus that stings. “Is that really all you’re worried about right now?”
“I’d like a verbal reaffirmation that you won’t be taking this up with HR, Maddie.”
“I won’t be taking it up with HR, Declan. But I would like to shove that document up your—"
“Don’t worry, I won’t force you to come to the office while I’m attending the rest of my family events alone. So you’ll have nothing to complain about.”
“Hah! Beg to differ.”
His eyes, usually an intoxicating warm shade of whiskey brown, are now iced black coffee. The kind that give you a headache and diarrhea. The kind that you eagerly consume for a sudden burst of energy and then causes you to question all of your life choices when you crash and burn. I can’t look at him.
Declan Cannavale has always made my blood boil for a variety of reasons, but now that there’s love in my heart, I don’t know if it can handle this. Apparently the secret to being his assistant and dealing with his bullshit was believing that there was nothing to him besides the bullshit. Even now, all I see is the guy who sat on my aunt’s sofa watching a romantic comedy with my dad. I don’t think I can stand Office Declan anymore.
“I’ll just go to Cleveland by myself tomorrow, then. Do you have any requests as to what kind of lie I should tell my family regarding the reason for your absence? Fear of flying? Food poisoning? Or should I just tell them we broke up?”
I whip around to face him again. “For your information, I wasn’t talking about not going with you to Cleveland. I was trying to tell you that I don’t think I can work for you anymore.”
He had this same look on his face after I slapped him in that hotel elevator. “You’re joking, right?”
“Why would I joke about that?”
“You want to quit being my assistant?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be the first to do that now, would I?”
“Some of them were fired. Most of them were fired. Because none of them were as good as you. You can’t quit. We said going into this that we wouldn’t let it affect our working relationship.”
“You honestly don’t think it has?”
“No, I don’t. I got half a shit-ton of work done this morning. We’re both being professionals here. We’ve both remained fully clothed. What’s the problem?”
“The problem, Mr. Cannavale, is that I am neither a sex robot nor am I an administrative robot. I can’t turn my feelings on and off like you can, and I don’t want to try to do that every single day.”
He keeps shaking his head, like I’m speaking a foreign language. “So let me get this straight… You’re talking about—what? Quitting the job but continuing to pretend to be my girlfriend until after my brother’s wedding?”
And there it is.
The word pretend.
That’s all it is to him.
I can’t believe it didn’t even occur to me that he was just pretending all this time.
There’s a steaming hot lump of something in my throat. I want to burst into tears and scream Liar liar, I’m going to set your pants on fire! But I’m going to summon up all of my inner strength and channel Julianna Margulies from every episode I’ve ever seen of The Good Wife instead. Take the high road. Get off the emotional roller coaster. Make a rational decision and then calmly express it and leave. “Actually, I don’t want to go to Cleveland with you anymore either, Declan. I quit all of it.”
He clenches his jaw, but there’s that flash of something in his iced coffee eyes that reminds me of the warmth in him.
I look away again because if I don’t take the heat that’s rising in me and use it to roast his nuts on an open fire, then we’ll just have sex on the floor of his office, and I’ll still end up with the same problem.
I not only fell for my boss, but I fell for an act.
Or some alcohol and carb-induced holiday reverie. A rated-R version of The Nutcracker. The nutcracker that turned into a naked dancing prince was just a dream. Now I’m waking up to a rat in a suit.
“You’re just going to leave me?” His voice is cold and flat.
“I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice. I’ll find and train my replacement.”
“You’re doing the exact thing I told you I don’t want you to do.”
“I’m not filing a claim with HR, Declan. I just can’t work for you anymore, and I can’t believe you don’t understand why.”
“I need you here as my assistant. What do you want—a raise?”
“Go to hell, Declan.”
“Yeah, because I’m the asshole—it’s never the one who walks away.”
I almost make it to the door. I almost manage to bite my tongue and keep my mouth shut. But I spin around to face him and say, “You know what
I think? I think Hannah probably walked away after years of trying to get through to you. But you never heard a word she said because you were so busy trying to convince her you were right that you couldn’t even see what was wrong. And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with who you are or who you and I were together these past few days. I loved the time we spent together. You’ll never know how much. But I’m not going to spend one more second pretending that I’m okay with this.” I put my hand on the door handle and wait for him to say something, anything.
But he doesn’t.
I glance back at him, and it is chilling, the way he’s looking at me. I either hit a nerve or an artery, and he clearly didn’t hear a word that I said after the Hannah thing. He has no rebuttal. And he clearly does not want me to continue talking.
So I open the door.
“If you leave now, don’t bother coming back,” he mutters.
“Fine. Don’t bother calling or texting me, because I won’t respond. It’s not my job to anymore.”
“Oh, and don’t worry—I’ll still give you a good letter of recommendation if you need one. About your administrative skills, I mean. Not as a fake girlfriend.”
I have no idea what Julianna Margulies would say in this situation on The Good Wife, but I let my middle finger do the talking for me.
I don’t slam the door shut, because there are at least five other people here today and also because there are dampers on all of the office doors to prevent them from slamming shut. But I have never wanted to slam a door so badly in my life. Or to throw a desk through a glass wall—or a lawyer.
Or to punch something.
At least I can go home and do that, thanks to the thoughtful asshole who gave me a punching bag for Christmas.
Merry fucking December 28th to me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
MADDIE: Hi.
DECLAN: Hi Piper.
MADDIE: Yeah. It’s me. I’ll delete this convo from her phone when we’re done. She’s here talking to my mom in the other room. Rough day, huh?
DECLAN: It’s not great. She okay?
MADDIE: I’ve never seen her this smad before, TBH.
DECLAN: I don’t know what TBH means. Or smad.
MADDIE: TBH=to be honest. Smad=sad and mad.
DECLAN: Ahh. I tried calling and texting her and going to her place after she left, but she won’t respond. I don’t blame her. I was a total asshole.
MADDIE: IMO she just needs time. IMO=in my opinion FYI. FYI=for your info.
DECLAN: LOL I do know what IMO and FYI stand for, thanks.
MADDIE: Oh cool.
DECLAN: I never wanted things to end up like this.
MADDIE: Neither did she. But it’s not my place to speak for her. Hey, so if you need someone else to go to the wedding with you and pretend to be your GF, I am available!!! LOLOL.
DECLAN: You’re a great kid, Piper. One day, some guy will be lucky to have you. When you’re twenty-five or so.
MADDIE: Maybe by then I’ll have boobs.
DECLAN: I cannot comfortably respond to that, sorry. But you’re great no matter what.
MADDIE: Well anyway. Maybe you should try her again tomorrow. Give her some time to cool down. Give yourself some time to cool down too?
DECLAN: You’re very wise. Except I have to go to Cleveland to be with my brother tomorrow morning. But I’ll try calling or texting.
MADDIE: Okay. And also, if Eddie needs a date let him know that I’m available too LOLOL JK but not really.
DECLAN: You got it. Take care. Don’t forget to delete this conversation.
MADDIE: I’ll do it now. See you later. I hope.
DECLAN: I hope so too. Have a happy new year.
MADDIE:
Thirty-Three
Declan
THE WORST MAN HOLIDAY
Everything in this suite at the Cleveland Ritz-Carlton is mocking me. The king-size bed that Maddie won’t be in when I return tonight. The view that I can’t look out at with her. The orchids that I know she’d love. I could be pleasuring Maddie Cooper under the rainforest shower head right now. Instead, I’m Googling “what to eat before drinking alcohol” and trying to order bananas, salmon, eggs, sweet potatoes, and hummus from in-room dining before Billy Boston and Irish Nolan show up to kidnap me.
“I have no idea what Korean pear juice tastes like,” I tell the moron on the other end of the line. It’s not his fault that I didn’t feel like eating on the plane. However, it is definitely his fault that the kitchen doesn’t stock Korean pear juice. “But I’m pretty sure that apple juice is not a comparable substitute. If drinking apple juice could prevent a hangover, then I’m pretty sure they’d just say that in the article, Raymond. Let me speak to your supervisor—you know what, never mind. I don’t want any of it. Cancel my order. This is horse shit.” I hang up the hotel phone, cursing Raymond, my life, the world, tomorrow’s inevitable hangover, and every single thing I said to Maddie in my office yesterday.
I don’t know why it hadn’t even occurred to me that she’d want to quit for any reason other than hating my guts. So as soon as she brought it up, my brain just shut down. I was already in defense-mode, but all I could do was think about how shitty my life would be if she weren’t my assistant anymore. I didn’t even have time to think about what it would be like if she isn’t in it the way she had been since the 23rd. For a guy who prides himself on saying all the right things at the right time, I totally shit the bed.
All I needed to do was listen to what she was saying and tell her how I felt, but I didn’t.
I threw myself into work for a couple of hours after she left, because that’s what I do. But once I’d blasted through everything, and the dust settled, I finally heard what she’d said. I finally heard what I’d actually said and realized five important things. One: I suck at relationships. Two: What she said about Hannah and me stung because she was right. Three: I can’t function without Maddie in my life. Four: I will do whatever it takes to let Maddie know how much she means to me. Five: I also have an obligation to my brother and my entire family to be here for this wedding, and the timing sucks almost as much as I do.
I can damage control almost any corporate nightmare that any idiot can throw my way, but apparently I’m still a novice at cleaning up my own messes. None of this is news to me—I knew I’d fuck things up with Maddie eventually. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I honestly didn’t expect to fall for her as hard as I did. And I certainly didn’t expect her to feel anything other than lust for me either.
I reach for my cell phone, which has been charging ever since I got to the room. I can’t believe I’m taking advice from a thirteen-year-old girl, but Piper probably knows more about Maddie than I do. I intend to change that of course, but hopefully she was right about Maddie only needing a day or so to cool down.
Just as I’m opening up my phone app, I get a call from my sister.
“Hey, Case. Can I call you right back?”
“No. What kind of asshole answers the phone like that? You at the hotel?”
“Yes. What kind of asshat won’t let someone call them back?”
“You know what—I wasn’t even calling for you. I need to talk to Maddie.”
“Why?”
“We forgot to invite her to our spa day while you guys are out stirring up trouble. And by the way—keep your eye on my husband. If he gets anywhere near another woman today, I will castrate all of you.”
“That’s a pretty picture. I don’t think you have anything to worry about—have you not seen Aiden’s itinerary? The first stop on the party bus ride from hell is a Dave & Buster’s.”
“Yeah, you know how much respect Billy and Nolan have for Aiden’s itinerary? About as much respect as they have for your liver. Good luck not puking your brains out. Put Maddie on.”
What to say, what to say, what to say…
“Maddie isn’t here, actually…yet.”
Fuck you, optimi
sm.
“What do you mean?”
“She had a minor family emergency to attend to, but she’ll try to make it to the wedding. Probably. We’ll see.”
“Dec…”
“What? What am I supposed to do—not let her deal with a minor family emergency?”
The emergency being that she has to tell her family how big of an asshole I am.
“She’s not coming?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said she isn’t here. Look, I have to call her before the guys get here. Have a great spa day—I promise to keep your husband in line. See you tomorrow.” I hang up. I never hang up on my sister before she’s said goodbye first. I’m in a downward spiral.
I start typing out a text to Maddie. It seems like the smart thing to do—take her temperature first before calling—since I’m not exactly bringing my A-game with the ladies today. Before I’ve even finished typing three sentences, my mother calls.
And I know, even before I answer, exactly how this conversation is going to go.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Dec. Why isn’t Maddie here? What happened?”
“It’s just what I told Casey.” I say a quick prayer, just in case there’s a chance she’s so busy she’ll actually fall for that crap.
“Don’t you give me that, mister. There’s something wrong. I can hear it in your voice. You’re hungry and you’re anxious. Tell me. Or, you know… If you’d feel better lying to your only sister and your only mother, then just keep doing that. Go on. I’ve got a million relatives coming into town and a house to clean, but I got all the time in the world over here.”
“We had an argument, okay? She quit.”
“She quit her job?”
“Yes. And she quit…being my fake girlfriend.”
“What did you just say? She quit being your fake girlfriend? Did my sixty-year-old ears hear that right?”
“Yes. I know it sounds weird—”
“Ya think?”
“But that’s just how it started out. Things got real, fast. And they were good. They were better than good. They were better than anything. And then I messed up, but I’ll make it right. I just have to talk to her before the guys get here.”
A VERY BOSSY CHRISTMAS Page 17