The Boss Project by Vi Keeland





• • •



“That sucks. I’m sorry.” Greer frowned. I’d arrived at her specialty wine shop a little earlier than she’d needed me to so I could fill her in about Simon and Mia. I hadn’t been able to shake the conversation I’d had with him, and I’d wound up going out to Brooklyn to take a long walk on a beach where I often collected sea glass before coming to the shop.

“I expected he might turn me down. Simon was never big on drama—that was Mia’s forte. But I never anticipated he’d turn me down because he and Mia were back together.”

My sister shook her head as she finished unpacking a box of wine, lining the bottles up on a shelf. “I can’t believe someone as smart as Simon would be stupid enough to take her back.”

“I know. I tried to put myself in his shoes. He and Mia were only boyfriend and girlfriend, not engaged like Christian and me. But I honestly don’t think I would feel any differently if Christian and I hadn’t been engaged when I caught him. Cheating sort of has levels. If you have a drunken one-night stand, that’s a three on the cheat-o-meter. If you have an ongoing relationship with someone else, that’s like a six and a half. If it’s with your significant other’s friend or family, it rockets the offense up to a ten. Maybe, maybe, I could forgive a three. But anything higher, it’s no longer a mistake. It’s absolutely a choice. The whole thing just makes me so crazy…” I lifted my chin to the locked glass cabinets behind my sister. “I might bust open your fancy reserve cabinet and drink a few bottles.”

She pointed to the shelf behind me. “You can get just as drunk on the cheap stuff, sister.”

I walked behind the counter. “Don’t worry. I like to match my alcohol with how I’m feeling, so the cheap and crappy stuff it is.” Pulling open a drawer, I tossed my purse inside. “Now go—get out of here. I don’t want you to be late for your appointment to pick out my future niece or nephew’s genetic benefactor. Actually, hang on a second…” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of bright red sea glass. Leaning over the counter, I held it out to my sister. “Take this with you.”

Greer kissed me on the cheek as she took it. “You and your lucky sea glass. I’ll see you at home later. If it’s slow, lock up at seven thirty. You don’t have to wait until eight.” She grabbed two bottles of wine from a display. “We’re going to need these to continue our conversation about what an idiot Simon is when I get in. Ben has to go back to work after we’re done, so it will be just us girls.”

“I feel like he’s never home lately.”

“His company needs twenty-four-hour IT support since they’re global. Both the night-shift guys quit the same week, so he’s basically been working nonstop. It’s a good thing we’re getting help with our fertility because we’re never in the same room long enough to conceive.”

I smiled halfheartedly. “Love you. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Love you, too.”

For the next hour and a half, I helped a few customers, washed the front windows, and stalked my phone for unhealthy fast food within a three-block radius. When seven thirty rolled around and no one had called or come in for forty-five minutes, I decided to do as my sister said and close early. I needed to feed my soul to make myself feel better—literally, not figuratively. So I turned off the neon OPEN sign, locked the door, and walked one block over to Gray’s Papaya for the best hot dogs in the city. It had been a long time since I’d had one. Lord knows I’d been watching everything I ate earlier this year so I could look my best in my wedding dress. And I hadn’t had anything but coffee all day today, since I’d lost my appetite after my appointment this morning. I actually salivated as I watched the cashier add chili and cheese to my order. When she was done, I was so anxious to dig in that I grabbed the bag and started to walk away.

“Excuse me. That’ll be nine sixty-two, please.”

I turned around and shook my head. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I got so excited, I forgot to pay.” I pulled out my credit card, as I’d used the last of my cash earlier today to buy coffee from a street vendor.

“Here you go.”

The woman swiped and then frowned. “The card was declined.”

“That can’t be. I have plenty of credit available.” I motioned to the credit card machine. “Can you try it again?”

She did, and the same thing happened.

“Shoot. Alright. I’m not sure what the problem is.” I pulled another card from my wallet. “Use this one.”

The cashier swiped and then sighed. “This one’s not working either.”

“What do you mean it’s not working?”

She pointed to the screen. “It just says declined.”

“But that’s impossible. Your machine must be broken.” I looked around and noticed the woman next to me paying. Her card seemed to go through without a hitch. I pointed. “Can you try that register?”

The teenage cashier barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Sure.”

But the same thing happened at the other register. And now a line was forming since I was preventing two rows of people from paying.

“Ummm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure what’s going on. Can you hold my order aside, and I’ll call my credit card company? There must be some sort of mix up.”