Boss I Love To Hate

by James, London

  “Good to meet you, Berlin,” she smiles. “Keep your eye on this one. I’ve known him a long time now, and he’s as troublesome as they come.”

  “She does know you well,” I grin.

  “She’s also prone to exaggeration,” Sawyer protests.

  They both laugh, and Sawyer favors her with the sort of smile you’d give a favored aunt. I can definitely see the affection between them that’s developed over the years.

  “I’ll give you two a minute,” Bette says.

  She hustles off, and I look around. The diner has a distinctly ‘woodsy’ feel to it. Like our cabin, it’s got the faux rough-hewn log walls. Old logging equipment and old black-and-white photographs of the town hang on the walls. It’s quaint and charming – and incredibly homey. And the confluence of delicious and tantalizing aromas that fill the place make my mouth water. Twelve hours of incredible sex or not, I think I could eat my weight in food here anyway.

  “So what are you thinking?” he asks.

  I flip through the menu – such as it is. The menu is far less expansive than the places in the city I’m used to. They don’t have many things on offer, but hey, I can respect a place that knows itself well enough to know what it does well and sticks with it, rather than experimenting just to satisfy city dwellers like me who are used to having a thousand different choices.

  “I may just go with the pancakes,” I state.

  “Really? How boring,” he grins. “Be adventurous. I mean, you did just have sex in a hot tub for the first time.”

  I giggle, my first instinct being to look around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. The waitress comes back to the table and flashes Sawyer a wide smile.

  “What’s it going to be, hon?” she asks.

  Sawyer looks at me. “Allow me.”

  “My culinary fate is in your hands.”

  Sawyer orders us enough food to feed an invading army – country fried steaks, hash browns, eggs, bacon and sausage, and a short stack of pancakes on the side. When we’re alone again, I just laugh.

  “Is somebody else joining us for breakfast?” I ask.

  “Nah. I’m just making sure you’re carb-loaded for the next round.”

  “I’m pretty sure if I eat all of that food, I’ll sleep through the next round,” I counter.

  “Don’t worry; I’m pretty sure I can manage to keep you awake.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I grin.

  “You better.”

  “And you two better get a room.”

  We both look up into Bette’s smiling face. She sets our plates down and tops off our coffee before she turns and heads off again. I inhale deeply and feel my mouth watering. I cut a glance at Sawyer before digging into the mountain of food. We eat in silence for a few minutes – it’s all so delicious, I really have no desire to speak anyway. Every bite seems better than the last, so I just keep shoveling food into my face.

  I push my plate away and lean back in my seat, feeling like I might just explode. I stare in amazement at Sawyer’s nearly empty plate.

  “Where in the hell do you put all of that? You don’t have an ounce of body fat on you,” I whine. “I’m going to put on a thousand pounds from this.”

  Sawyer shrugs. “You only ate half of your food. You’ll probably only put on five hundred. Max,” he notes, giving me a grin. “Don’t worry though; I know just how to work it off of you.”

  I laugh. “Do you ever not think about sex?”

  He screws his head up, feigning thought. “No, not really.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  I look at the table next to us and see a young mother cradling her baby in her arms. She leans down and places a gentle kiss on the infant’s forehead. The baby coos and makes a series of adorable gurgling noises, squirming in his mother’s arms.

  Watching them interact sets off a rush of maternal feeling inside of me. It’s not going to be long before I’m holding my baby just like that. The thought of it brings a smile to my lips and fills my heart with a joy, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  I turn and cast a glance at Sawyer, and the smile on my face slowly melts away. The expression on his face has darkened, and he’s very pointedly looking away, clearly not wanting to see the baby. It sends a familiar lance of pain through my heart. I feel my eyes burning with unshed tears. Sawyer looks at me, and I can see his expression slowly soften, but he remains silent.

  “Do you even want to have this baby with me, Sawyer?” I finally ask.

  “What? Where is this coming from?”

  I sigh and stare at the baby for a moment before turning back to Sawyer. He’s taking a sip of his coffee, appearing to be the picture of relaxation, but I can see the tension around his eyes and the small frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

  “Do you?” I ask again. “I mean, I honestly don’t get the sense that you do.”

  He sets his coffee mug down and shakes his head. “I honestly don’t understand where this is coming from.”

  I sigh. “Because every time I try to talk about the baby, you shut down on me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do, Sawyer,” I press. “You don’t want to talk about the baby. You barely even acknowledge the fact that we’re going to have a child together.”

  He rubs his jaw but says nothing. Instead, he lifts his mug and takes a long drink. I can see the tension in his eyes, of course, but there’s something else there – something I didn’t notice before. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something. And given the fact that I can see Sawyer closing himself off – and since he’s not exactly known for being emotionally open – I know I’m going to need to draw it out of him.

  “I’m going to have this child, Sawyer,” I start. “And if you’ve changed your mind and decided that you don’t want to be a part of that, you – you don’t have to.”

  I feel the warm, wet tears rolling down my face and angrily scrub them away. I wanted to approach this with cool logic, not emotion – but I seem entirely incapable. More tears replace the ones I just wiped away. Sawyer looks at me and purses his lips.

  “I don’t know why you’d think –”

  “Because you’ve been so cold about it all, Sawyer,” I snap. “What in the hell else am I supposed to think?”

  Sawyer runs a hand through his hair, a strange look on his face; I can’t quite make sense of it. But his continued silence is not only hurting me, it’s pissing me off. It makes me think he really doesn’t want to be part of our child’s life. It’s a thought that cuts me deeper than I could have imagined it would.

  But I knew it was a possibility. And knowing it was a possibility, I shouldn’t have dared hope – and I definitely shouldn’t have opened up like I did. I never should have let myself get as attached to him as I did. I should have known a man like Sawyer probably doesn’t want to be weighed down by a child.

  I don’t doubt him at all when he tells me he loves me – I think this may just be one of those cases when love isn’t enough.

  Sawyer sighs and looks over at the baby in the woman’s arms. I see the tension around his eyes ease. I’m shocked when I see the faint traces of a smile on his lips. It’s small and weak, but it’s there.

  “If I’ve seemed – distant – or maybe standoffish, I apologize, Berlin,” he begins. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you or be a part of our child’s life. That’s not it at all.”

  “Then what is it, Sawyer?” I ask.

  He looks down at the table and lets out another long breath. For maybe the first time ever, I see uncertainty in Sawyer’s eyes. He looks – shaken.

  “I want to raise a family – with you,” he says softly. “But I’m – I’m scared, Berlin.”

  I feel my eyes widen and my mouth fall open at the same time. I’ve never known Sawyer to be afraid of anything – much less admit to being afraid. Even back in school. In some ways, I’ve kind of always thought of him as a superhero of sorts.

  “I – I’
m shocked,” I respond. “I mean, the great Sawyer West, never intimidated, never scared, never takes shit from anybody – what in the hell do you have to be afraid of?”

  He takes a drink of his coffee and won’t meet my eyes. It’s amazing to me to see him so uncertain and nervous.

  “What in the hell do I know about being a father?” he asks. “I mean – seriously, look at that baby –”

  I follow his gaze to the baby and then turn back to him. He’s staring like it’s a bomb swaddled in a blanket, ready to go off.

  “That’s a lot of responsibility,” he continues, pitching his voice lower. “Being responsible for another life – I don’t know that I’d be any good at it. I’m afraid I’d do more harm than good.”

  His eyes are riveted on the baby, and fear is etched deeply into his features. Now that he’s admitted his fears, everything falls into place. Now I have a greater understanding of the situation – and of Sawyer himself.

  “I understand being afraid, Sawyer,” I tell him. “Trust me; I get it. I mean, what in the hell do I know about raising a kid?”

  “You will be a great mother,” he says, his tone more confident than I feel. “You just have a kind, nurturing way about you – a way I don’t have.”

  “That’s not true –”

  His bark of laughter is sharp. “It is true, and you know it,” he says. “You’re not selfish like I am. You’re giving and compassionate. I don’t have those traits.”

  “Sawyer –”

  “Oh, I’m not saying I don’t have other great traits, or that I’m not an amazing guy,” he chuckles, “but I don’t know that I have what it takes to be a good father, Berlin. I don’t know that I’ll do the right thing raising a child.”

  I reach over and take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We are different, Sawyer. We’re very different.” I hold his gaze firmly. “But we also complement each other in a hundred different ways. Your strengths compensate for my weaknesses, and my strengths compensate for yours.”

  “I wish that was true.”

  I squeeze his hand more firmly this time, doing my best to really underscore my point and lend him some of the assurance and belief he so desperately needs.

  “It very true, Sawyer. I believe it with all my heart. And for what it’s worth, the fact that you’re so self-aware is a good thing,” I offer. “I think it’ll help you be a better – a great father. But the one thing that guarantees you’ll be a good father is that you’re a good man, Sawyer. You’ve got a good heart.”

  He gives me a small smile, wearing an expression on his face like he doesn’t quite believe me.

  “I mean it, Sawyer,” I press. “You’re going to be a great father. I mean – if you’re really sure you want to be.”

  He gives me a long, even look, a warmth spreading across his face that makes my heart swell.

  “I do, Berlin,” he tells me. “I truly do.”

  He raises my hand and gently kisses the back of my knuckles, a sweet smile on his face. And though he looks more confident and surer about his path moving forward, I can still see a sliver of doubt in his eyes – but just a sliver.

  “Do you really think I’ll be a good father?”

  “I know you will be,” I smile. “Of course, you won’t be a better parent than I’ll be, but that’s just because anything you can do, I can do better.”

  His laughter is a low, slow roll of thunder that reverberates through every last corner of my soul. It’s warm and comforting and fills my heart with a bright, white, light. Sawyer looks deep into my eyes, holding my gaze firmly. He squeezes my hand.

  “I love you, Berlin.”

  My smile is so wide; it hurts my face. “I love you too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sawyer

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a screamer of a headache coming on – a full blown sit-in and protest at one of my properties tends to do that. As I consider Rider’s words, I find my mind wandering back to the Catskills and that perfect weekend Berlin, and I shared. I try to channel the good feelings the memories of that weekend engender to stave off the irritation flaring within me.

  “What do they want?” I ask.

  Rider chuckles ruefully. “Other than for us to not knock down their building?”

  “It’s not their building,” I grumble. “I bought it and have followed every law and regulation to the letter. Their time is up.”

  Rider clears his throat. “I’m assuming they heard about what went down at the Atwell. I haven’t confirmed it yet, but I heard they are looking to petition the borough board for a delay if not an outright quashing of the permits.”

  I slam my fist down on my desk, my frustration boiling over. “Son of a bitch,” I grunt. “This is why I don’t feed stray cats – not only do they keep coming back, soon enough you’re going to be feeding the whole goddamn neighborhood.”

  He grins. “No good deed goes unpunished, huh?”

  I glare at Rider. “Do you think this is funny?”

  His smile quickly fades. “No, not at all,” he replies. “I was just –”

  He bites off his words and looks away as if considering his next words very carefully. And if there’s one thing I despise, it’s being managed – Berlin and I are a lot alike in that way.

  “Spit it out,” I order him. “What is on your mind?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing I can say with any certainty.”

  “Then spill it.”

  He fidgets in his seat, still won’t meet my eyes, and looks distinctly uncomfortable. He still looks like he’s trying to find the right words to say whatever it is he’s struggling to get out – in other words, he’s still trying to manage me.

  “Rider –”

  My voice snaps him out of it. He looks at me, a small frown on his lips. “Like I said, it’s nothing I can say with any certainty…”

  “But? You obviously have a thought about something.”

  He nods slowly. “The deal at the Jackson got me thinking about how everything shook out at the Atwell.”

  “How so?”

  He finally raises his eyes to me. “These aren’t legally sophisticated people, Sawyer – the residents down at the Jackson. These are garden variety blue-collar types.”

  “Okay, but what’s your point?”

  “It just made me wonder if they were getting some – help,” he says, his voice growing quiet.

  “You mean Berlin.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, but the tactics – hell, the language they’re using – all sounds really familiar,” he points out. “And she hasn’t come in yet today.”

  “She hasn’t?”

  “Not that I know of,” he responds.

  A greasy feeling starts to churn in my stomach as a cold certainty that she’s mixed up in this takes hold of me.

  “She’s been helping you with things over in legal, right?” I ask.

  Rider nods. “Yeah, she’s picked up on contractual language a lot quicker than –”

  “Did she see the file on the Jackson project?”

  He pauses to think and then slowly shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, I wasn’t keeping anything from her or hiding it. I didn’t think I had to. But I guess she could have stumbled onto it and maybe lit that fuse.”

  “Shit,” I mutter. “Let me get her in here.”

  * * *

  “Before you start giving me shit, let me remind you that you never asked me to curtail my advocacy work,” she says.

  “I didn’t think I had to,” I spit. “I thought it was just assumed.”

  “Assumed?” she gasps. “Did you really think just because I’m earning a paycheck from you, I’d abandon the people who need my help?”

  I lean back in my chair and let out a long breath. I’m doing my best to keep my temper in check, but she’s really trying my patience right now. I gave her a pass on the Atwell and worked with her – I was doing my best to make her happy because I
respect and care for her. But now she’s taken up the flag of another group and is demanding I take another hit for one of her pet causes. It’s a fucking bridge too far.

  “I thought at the very least because you’re now taking a paycheck from Compass Development that you’d have the good sense to avoid pulling the company into another dispute,” I growl. “Don’t you find this to be a conflict of interest?”

  “No, not at all. Like I said, you did not ask me to stop doing my advocacy work,” she replies simply. “And since I’m your personal attorney and am not involved in the actual development side of the company, there is no conflict.”

  I scrub my face with my hands, my irritation and frustration starting to boil over. I don’t want to fight with Berlin – not after we had such an amazing weekend together. And not because our relationship is really starting to take off and head in the right direction. I’ve finally seemed able to really wrap my head around and embrace the idea that I’m going to be a father, and we seem to be growing closer with each passing day. I don’t want to derail that.

  But at the same time, I still have a business to run. If I keep delaying every single project because I’m fighting with Berlin about the how’s and why’s of every single one, I’m never going to get anything done. At that point, I might as well shutter the building, call it a day, and retire because Compass will not survive that sort of forced charitable giving.

  “When I gave you the delay on the Atwell, I told you I still had a business to run. I told you it was a one-time deal, and I was still planning to proceed with all of the other projects I had on the docket,” I remind her. “And that certainly wasn’t a challenge to you to rifle through the files to cherry-pick projects you wanted to derail. Maybe you don’t see a conflict, but I’d be curious to talk to the legal department and hear their thoughts about the legality of that.”

  “I didn’t go looking for the file until I got a call from one of the residents,” she snaps. “When I learned what was happening, I did my due diligence and found the information.”