Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair

Chapter Sixteen

Gavin

I’ve never been sky-diving.But my current level of panic and the drop in my stomach is what I’d imagine feeling the moment after someone pried my fingers off the plane to toss me out.

I have a daughter.

Or do I?

I don’t know Ella’s exact age, but she looks around either eight or nine. She could be mine, but none of this makes any sense. How has Eleanor kept this hidden for so long? And why?

As I’m listening to Eleanor’s phone ring and ring, I realize I’m holding the phone so tightly that I might crush the thing. Voicemail. Again. I mutter a curse under my breath and dial again.

“Still nothing?” Zoey asks.

I shake my head, willing my ex to answer. This is the first time in years I’ve ever wanted to talk with her on the phone. I guess this is more of a need, not a want. I’m definitely not looking forward to this call.

I glance down the hall, where Zoey managed to find Ella’s tablet cord. She’s apparently watching a movie in the guest bedroom.

“You sure she’s okay?” I ask.

Zoey nods, lowering her voice. “I think this whole situation is ridiculously hard. But it doesn’t sound like things were … stable with her mother either.”

I definitely wouldn’t call Eleanor stable. I don’t know if I want to imagine what Ella’s life has been like. As far as I know, Eleanor bounces from bed to bed in posh mansions and lavish estates all over the US and Europe. Did Ella go with her? Did she have a nanny?

I thought I was humiliated when I realized Zoey took care of me when I was sick, seeing me at my worst. Smelling me at my worst. And now … this.

What must she think of me?

And why haven’t I sent her home?

Zoey doesn’t need to be dragged into the mess that my orderly world has turned into. I thought a divorce would end the drama. That paying Eleanor well enough would keep her out of my life forever.

Wouldn’t she have asked for more money? For child support?

This is what I’m clinging to—the idea that this is another of Eleanor’s games. Dumping some other man’s daughter on my doorstep while she traipses off to who knows where. The other thing I’m clinging to like a lifeline is the blue of Zoey’s eyes.

She’s grounding me in a way that doesn’t make sense, given our relationship in the past. Consummate professionals. Ignoring my raging attraction to her, anyway, which is what I’ve managed to do for two years. One flirty text exchange, a fever, and suddenly it feels like we’re playing house.

But I’m going to completely lose it if she leaves me alone with Ella, who has yet to speak to me. After Zoey told me that Ella is mine, the girl silently got out of the pool and disappeared in her room. Clearly, I didn’t handle the announcement well. Is there a way to handle this well?

Zoey must sense my desperation because she hasn’t tried to leave. Eventually, I know she will, and I’m not sure what I’ll do.

“Hello?” Eleanor’s voice shocks me. Both because it’s been so long and because she sounds completely bored.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I practically growl into the phone. Zoey winces and I remind myself to breathe.

Eleanor laughs. “Well, when a man and a woman are intimate—”

“Not funny, Eleanor. Is Ella really mine?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation. She fired off the word like a bullet in a gun. It’s just as powerful, and I take a moment to collect myself.

“Pardon me for not trusting your word, but how can you be sure?”

I don’t want to mention the other men. Not in front of Zoey, who doesn’t need to bear witness to any further embarrassment. I’m so emasculated at this point that I’m like a cartoon drawing, not an actual man.

Eleanor sighs. The sound takes me back to our married days, and how her unhappiness permeated everything.

“Because I ruled everyone else out with paternity tests. Proof by exclusion. Congratulations. I guess I owe you eight years of Father’s Day cards.”

I lean my head between my knees, gripping my hair in one hand. Eleanor has topped herself this time. In her lack of humanity, in her bitterness, in her utter selfishness. I almost wish I were a cartoon. Then I could punt her into outer space, dust my hands off, and the credits would roll. In the real world, I wouldn’t wish violence on her. I’d just like her to disappear.

“How’s fatherhood treating you so far?”

“Why did you bring her? Why now? What am I supposed to do with her? Is she in school?”

“It’s summer break.” Eleanor laughs, the sound making my jaw clench. “She’d probably love to travel or go to museums. Maybe a camp. Have some daddy-daughter time. I’m not sure, but you can figure it out. Or pay someone to figure it out for you.”

A hand touches my back, tentatively, and I realize that Zoey is beside me on the couch, her cool palm making circles on my back. I want to sink into her touch, her comfort. At the same time, I don’t have words for how much I hate her being here. Witnessing this.

“I’ll be back in a month,” Eleanor says, and I stand abruptly, knocking Zoey’s hand off. I can’t even think about that as I pace to the windows. Because: a month?

“I have a job. I don’t even know her. You can’t just do this—”

“It’s done. And unless you plan on getting her a replacement passport and flying her to Spain, you have Ella for a month. Now, considering the time difference, I’m heading back to bed. Speak to you soon.”

Eleanor hangs up the phone. And I’m left with a puzzle to solve, only it’s missing half the pieces. I know Zoey is behind me, watching me. I can see her reflection in the window in front of me. I close my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

I have a daughter. A virtual stranger to me, who seems terrified to look me in the eyes. And for the next month, I’m essentially a single parent. A child, though, not a baby. No diapers.

I can do this. I flip businesses, taking them from mess to money-makers. This is … different. But it’s not so different. I have a mess. An unclear path forward. I need to make a path.

I also need to eat something, I realize, as I sway on my feet. This feeling of weakness, of powerlessness, is going to kill me.

“That didn’t sound like it went well,” Zoey says.

“That’s an understatement.”

The silence is weighted with tension. “Gavin? Are you okay?” Zoey’s voice sounds softer than I’ve ever heard it. I wish the circumstances were different. That I didn’t feel like I might go timber any moment and faceplant onto the carpet. That I’d never married Eleanor. That Zoey would be speaking to me like this out of affection, not pity or sympathy.

“I just need a minute,” I tell her.

It takes more like three minutes, but my brain clears with awareness of what I need to do. It’s not conventional. It feels riskier than the worst business I purchased. I’ve never failed to see a profit, to achieve the goals I set out to accomplish. At least, in business. The only real relationship I have for comparison is Eleanor, which was an epic fail.

Is Zoey worth it?

Yes.

But am I worth it for her?

The answer to that question is less sure. I’m older, with a complicated ex-wife relationship. A daughter whom I barely know and met in the worst way I can imagine. I’m like the baggage carousel at the airport. The longer she’s near me, the more suitcases full of junk just keep appearing.

I open my eyes and stare out at the pool, remembering Zoey’s wide smiles, Ella’s laughter. I can still feel the remnants of my feelings as I watched them, how something warmed in my chest at the sight, even before I knew Ella was mine.

Zoey is an adult. I’m not going to make the choice for her when she can make it herself. All I can do is ask her, and hope she says yes, hope that she gives me a chance, baggage carousel and all.

I turn around, slowly enough that I don’t get dizzy. Zoey blinks up at me, dragging a hand over her ponytail before dropping it in her lap.

Feeling like an anvil might drop on my head any moment, I open my mouth and hope she can’t hear the nervousness in my voice.

“Come with me,” I say, immediately wishing I had asked her rather than demanding. Too late now. “Come with us to my parents’ ranch this weekend. Please.”

Zoey blinks in surprise, and though she has a way of keeping her emotions cloaked, I’ve become an expert at reading her. And I see the wheels turning.

One minute stretches into two, and I’m not sure I was more nervous before asking Eleanor to marry me. Why does this feel so much bigger than that?

“Are you asking for you, or are you asking for Ella?”

The question slices through me. I’m not even sure how to separate the two parts of what she’s asking. I want Zoey, but would I be asking her to come meet my parents if not for Ella? No. I’d be moving slower, with much more self-preservation. And maybe, because of Ella, I should be using more caution now.

“Both,” I say, feeling like this is the wrong answer.

Zoey nods, and I wish I could read her reaction. “I’ll come,” she says, and I can hear the but before she says it. “But I’d like it to be as a paid companion for Ella. That is, if you don’t mind being my boss times two.”

Zoey smiles, but I can’t fully return it. Because the last thing I want is to remember that I’m her boss.

Her boss times two.