Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair
Chapter Eleven
Zoey
“You need to get over here,”I whisper-shout into the phone. “I need you, Abby. Code red. Emergency.”
She sighs into the phone. “Trust me. If I could get over and dive into the middle of the soap opera you’re living in, I would. But my sister-in-law called first with her own emergency. I’m on my way to Katy to help with my niece and nephews.”
I groan. “I just saw you like two hours ago.”
“And she called me an hour ago. I left from mini golf and hopped on the highway.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I hiss, eyeing the girl on the couch, who still hasn’t actually met my eyes. I don’t want to know what she’s watching on the tablet. As long as it keeps her occupied, I should be glad. But how long can that last? And when is her bedtime?
And how is it that I am in Gavin’s house, babysitting the daughter I didn’t know he had, while he’s passed out with a virus in the bedroom?
It’s shocking that Ella’s mom left her here with me at all, given the fact that she has never met me, didn’t get any kind of okay from Gavin, and didn’t leave any kind of instructions, just a little girl and a bright pink bag with the Louis Vuitton logo all over it.
Who buys Louis Vuitton luggage for a child? Right. Gavin’s ex.
“Abby, what am I supposed to do? I can’t handle this.”
She chuckles into the phone and I make a mental note to make her pay the next time I see her. “She’s not going to bite you. Wait—how old is she? Because she actually might.”
“She’s maybe like … ten. Ish?” I am the worst with children. At knowing their ages. At knowing what to do with them. I never even babysat. Babies cry when they look at my face, so I’ve always given them a wide berth. I have a theory that children can see right into your soul, and they’ve always seemed to find mine lacking in some regard.
I don’t do kids.
Yet, here I am. When Gavin wakes up, he’s giving me a raise. And then maybe finding me a new job.
“Call the house. Maybe Delilah or Sam or Harper could help? I mean, if you really don’t think you can do this on your own.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” I grumble. But as soon as we hang up, I’m dialing the house. We all have cell phones, but I figured it’s like a game of roulette with the landline. Delilah is the lucky winner, and her sweet, Southern voice fills my ear.
“Hey, Delilah. I need a massive favor.”
“Of course. Just let me know what you need, hon.”
I sigh in relief. “It’s a very long story. But I’m here at Gavin’s house.”
She screams, and I have to hold the phone away from my ear. Ella even hears it and looks up from her tablet, seeing me as though for the first time. And yep, she finds my soul lacking and goes back to whatever she’s watching.
“Finally! You and Gavin! I knew it! We all knew it!”
“No, D. It’s not like that. Sh! Listen. I need help!”
She giggles. “Okay, but you’ll have to promise to tell me what it is like. I can’t wait. Is he a good kisser?”
My neck is hot and I fan my cheeks. “Delilah. I need help babysitting Gavin’s daughter.”
The line goes silent. “What?” She sounds totally confused.
“Yes. The short story is that his ex-wife dropped off his daughter here and he’s passed out sick. I need help.”
“You need me?” she says.
I groan. “Please. I don’t know who else to call. And handling a sick man is hard enough.”
“But I can’t help until tomorrow at like nine.”
“Tomorrow? No, I need help now.”
“You know I would if I could, darlin. Give me the address and I’ll be there in the morning.”
When I hang up, I text Delilah Gavin’s address, then hold the phone to my chest, staring across the room at Ella. She doesn’t really look like Gavin, but more a carbon copy of Eleanor. So far, her attitude isn’t much different either. She doesn’t seem to think I’m worthy of a hello or more than the one glance she gave me a minute ago.
Where is she supposed to sleep? Gavin didn’t mention a daughter to me, ever, and he definitely doesn’t have a room set up for one. I know because I looked in all the rooms earlier when I was trying to locate the master bedroom. He has a guest bedroom, which is not all that unlike his master bedroom, very grown up and not at all pink. The third bedroom is part office and part exercise room with a treadmill, some weights, and a desk. Nothing in this house screams that Gavin has children.
The more I think about all this, the angrier I become. I cross the room to Ella.
“Do you know your mom’s phone number?” I ask.
She looks up slowly from the tablet, her brows raised in a perfect mimic of the way her mother looked at me. I don’t let her see the shudder that moves up my spine.
“I’m eight,” she says.
I was pretty close in my estimate. “Okay. You’re eight,” I say with a shrug.
“I’m eight, not five. Of course I know my mom’s number.” She spits it out so fast that I have to have her repeat it, and she absolutely does not think I’m worth her time.
But I manage to dial the number and walk back to the office, closing the door before Eleanor picks up.
“Hello?” she says in a clipped tone. So maybe it’s not just me and she’s a jerk to everyone.
“This is Zoey. I’m the woman you left Ella with.”
She sighs and I can almost hear the eye roll that goes along with it. “Already having trouble? Just don’t take away her tablet and this will be super easy.”
That comment somehow slices right through me. I’ve said that it didn’t matter whether people had good or bad moms, I’d envy just having a mom. But that was perhaps short-sighted. This woman is a witch. How was Gavin married to her? Maybe my whole view of the man needs to change.
“I just have a few questions. What’s Ella’s bedtime? And where does she usually sleep when she comes to visit?”
Eleanor laughs, and I want to reach through the phone and punch her in her pretty face. “Oh, she’s never stayed there before.”
“Okay …”
“Ella hasn’t ever met her father.”
This sentence is like a math problem with the numbers and the variables, the kinds that never made sense to my brain. I see the pieces, but they don’t fit together.
“What?”
“Gavin has never met Ella. He actually didn’t know about her, so have fun with that little announcement.” She laughs again, and I begin to wonder if she is a sociopath.
My mouth is open. There are no words. Not one word for the bomb she just dropped. Gavin doesn’t know he has a daughter. They have never met. And Eleanor just dropped Ella off here like it was so casual with a man who is virtually a complete stranger. I have to wonder how he didn’t know he had a daughter.
My life today has become an episode of Maury Povich. I should have stayed at mini golf. Except there is something fiery and protective stirring in my chest. I want to save both Gavin and Ella from this woman. Harpy and her Disney villain face have nothing on Gavin’s ex-wife.
He didn’t know how right he was when he texted earlier. He did need me.
“And her bedtime is whenever. We travel so much that she doesn’t really have a set time. Probably before ten.”
I don’t know kids that well, but I know that ten o’clock is much too late for an eight-year-old. Isn’t it? But Eleanor has hung up, leaving me alone in a house with my feverish, passed-out boss and his new-to-him, surprise daughter.
Is my birthday over yet?