Boss I Love To Hate Page 13

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, let’s have it.”

  Rider perches on the edge of the sofa, clasping his hands in front of him. He looks genuinely pained as if making the decision whether to tell me or not is killing him. Rider does his best to avoid getting in other people’s business. He’s never been one who enjoys gossip or rumors, preferring to stay above the fray. He’s always believed it was just too much hassle to get caught up in the affairs of others.

  “Okay look, this isn’t my business,” he starts.

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear already,” I grin.

  “Fine,” he grumbles. “She dropped her purse, and I found a bottle of – pills.”

  “Pills?”

  “Yeah, but not for her. The name on the bottle was for a Robert Roth –”

  “Her father,” I nod. “What was the name of the medication?”

  “It was Donepezil.”

  I frown. “And that is –”

  “It’s for Alzheimer’s,” he tells me. “Her father has Alzheimer’s.”

  I sit back and whistle low, the news hitting me like a sledgehammer to the gut. That would certainly explain her rushing off like she did in the middle of the night – she probably had to get home to her father and relieve whoever she has watching her dad when she’s not there.

  “I can’t imagine those meds are cheap,” I mention.

  “Probably not.”

  I rub my jaw, absorbing the information and trying to figure out not only what it all means, but what to do about it. The cost of caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s must be daunting. Not to mention the emotional toll it must take on her. As I think about it, I can’t imagine the burden that must be on Berlin’s shoulders on a daily basis, and how hard it must be weighing her down.

  And yet despite all of that she’s carrying on her back, she remains upbeat. Focused. Determined. She carries on every day, doing her job and taking on even more work on behalf of those less fortunate than her. What she does is admirable. Who she is as a person is even more so.

  I guess that makes my own problems seem woefully trite compared to hers. I’m lucky. I could easily afford that medicine, no sweat, and could have an army of highly trained nurses on call at all hours if I had a family member with that disease. Yet again, Berlin Roth is making me reflect on how fortunate I am compared to most people.

  “So now that you know, what are you going to do about it?” Rider asks.

  “I’m not sure yet but for now, I’ll file it away,” I respond. “I appreciate you telling me, brother, and don’t worry; I’ll keep your name out of it.”

  He nods. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Our conversation shifts to work and several projects we have in the works, but my mind continues to drift back to Berlin and her situation. She never complains about her lot in life. No, she bears her burdens stoically. Her strength and courage in dealing with all she does is incredible. I don’t think I can respect her any more than I already do right now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Berlin

  “I can’t believe it,” Gabby squeals. “Oh my God, honey. This is amazing.”

  She’s practically bouncing in her chair, and I’m suddenly regretting asking her to meet me for a quick cup of coffee after work. I put my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, shaking my head. In the couple of days since I slept with Sawyer, I’ve been hit by wave after wave of – not exactly regret – but something close to it.

  I feel Gabby grab hold of my wrists, and she pries my hands away from my face. Her smile is wide, and her eyes are shining with excitement – though I don’t know what there is to be excited about.

  “What are you tripping about?” she asks. “This is a good thing, baby.”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “A good thing?”

  “It’s a very good thing,” she presses. “You finally let yourself loosen up enough to let him in – well, into your panties.”

  I groan as she cackles, her voice seeming to echo around the coffee house. I glance around, fearful that people are eavesdropping on us, but everybody around us seem absorbed in their own conversations or whatever electronic device they have their faces buried in. Thankfully, nobody seems to be paying any attention to us.

  “I just – I let myself get caught up in the moment,” I mutter. “Between him giving me the delay on the Atwell, the glamor of the lounge we were at, and all the booze I had, I let myself get carried away.”

  “Was it good?” she presses. “I mean, I have this image of him being an absolute stallion in bed –”

  “Gabby,” I almost shriek, which makes her laugh.

  I’m mortified but can’t stop my own laughter from slipping out. Damn her.

  “I’m serious. This is important information,” she giggles. “Did he curl your toes or make you scream like a banshee?”

  “Oh my God, shut up.” I can’t stop my cheeks from flushing or the laughter pouring out of me.

  She clasps her hands in front of her as if she’s praying. “Tell me, Berlin,” she pleads. “I have to know if my fantasies match the reality.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself. I would like to move on from this particular topic, but I know Gabby isn’t about to let it go until she gets the information she wants. It’s one of the traits that makes her such a good lawyer – her dogged determination. It’s great in court, but terrible when I want to keep something private.

  “It was – fine,” I say, knowing I have to give her something.

  She cocks her head and stares at me blankly. “Fine?” she repeats, exasperation in her voice. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?”

  I shrug. “What? It’s not like I have any basis of comparison.”

  “You can do better than that,” she presses.

  I can’t quite stifle my giggle, but I can tell by the set of her jaw and the way she’s leaning forward on the table that Gabby is not going to be deterred. I have to give her something more.

  “Fine,” I start. “It hurt at first. It hurt a lot.”

  “Well that’s to be expected.”

  “But once the pain faded, it was – amazing. Beyond amazing, Gabs,” I tell her. “I’ve never come that hard before.”

  She lets out a small squeal of delight before lowering her voice and leaning forward conspiratorially. She’s got a wicked smile on her face and a mischievous glint in her eye – and I somehow just know what the next question is going to be.

  “Is he big?” she almost whispers.

  I grin and feel my cheeks flaring with heat. Sometimes she is way too easy to read – and she says I’m the predictable one.

  “Yeah. And thick. Better than that though, he’s an incredibly generous lover,” I confirm quietly. “Not that I have a lot to compare to, but he made me feel so good Gabs.”

  “I think I might swoon,” she groans. “Seriously, I might just swoon right now.”

  “Go ahead, I’ve never actually seen somebody swoon before,” I urge her. “I’m curious to know what it looks like.”

  Gabby laughs. “I’m so happy for you, babe,” she says. “Seriously, it’s about damn time.”

  I sigh and rake my fingers through my hair, feeling my stomach churning. I purse my lips and try to find a way to articulate my thoughts but can’t find the right words.

  “What’s bothering you about it, hon?” Gabby asks.

  I stare at her completely deadpan for a moment. “Ummm… well, the fact that I slept with Sawyer, for one thing.”

  “The fact that you did tells me that you are a lot more into him than you told me,” she points out. “Maybe even more than you realized yourself.”

  I shake my head. “I was caught up in the moment, and I’d probably had too much to drink.”

  “Yeah, you said that already,” Gabby smirks. “I’m still not buying it.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because I know you. And you are one of the most tightly co
ntrolled people who has ever walked the Earth,” she tells me. “You didn’t have too much to drink unless you wanted to – which tells me it was for a reason. And perhaps that reason was to get yourself to relax enough to sleep with Sawyer because you wanted to sleep with him.”

  I open my mouth to object but can’t force the words out. Instead, I sit there gaping at her like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing stupidly. She’s not wrong that I am a very tightly controlled person. I don’t do anything – and I mean anything – unless I want to do it. I’m not somebody who will ever be pressured or coerced into doing something I don’t want to do. And that includes drinking.

  I can count the number of times I’ve been drunk on one hand and still have fingers left over. I don’t like the feeling of being out of control of myself. And I’ve never had any sort of sexual encounter that I didn’t want. I also control how far I go and when we stop – which is usually well short of even getting naked together. The point is I never do anything I don’t want to do.

  Which means that, yeah, I probably slept with Sawyer because I wanted to. It was easier letting myself believe it was the emotion of the day along with the alcohol I consumed. Having to admit that deep down, it’s something I really wanted – that it wasn’t just being caught up in the moment – means I’m going to have to not just admit to but confront the facts. And the facts can only mean that I have a genuine emotional attachment to Sawyer. It’s no longer an abstract thought or concept – the aches and soreness deep within me confirm the reality of it all.

  And that scares me. I’ve been trying to blame it on the emotion or the alcohol, but to acknowledge that I wanted it to happen, that I wanted to sleep with him, means that I have to confront the real feelings I have for him. It makes it real – which is when people start getting hurt. And by people, of course, I mean me. I know if I open up and give my heart to Sawyer, it’s only going to end up getting trampled on and set on fire. That’s just the way my love life has been.

  “Face it Berlin, you are crazy about this guy,” Gabby presses.

  I shake my head. “I can’t be, Gabs,” I tell her. “I have too much going on right now.”

  “You’re always going to have a lot going on, hon. There is no ideal time,” she shrugs. “You have to carve time out for yourself.”

  “Easy to say,” I comment. “Not so easy to put into practice.”

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Honey, listen to me. I know you have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and all, but we only have one go around in life,” she urges. “I don’t want you to spend it alone. I want to see you blissfully happy and living your best life. And of course, having all the incredibly mind-blowing, body-rocking sex you want.”

  I give her a wan smile. “I’m not alone – I’ve got you.”

  “You know what I mean,” she laughs. “Stop being so obtuse.”

  “I’m not. I’m just acknowledging the reality of my life right now.”

  “You’re making excuses to continue hiding yourself away,” she says pointedly.

  “I am not.”

  “Answer me this, Berlin,” she demands. “Do you care about Sawyer?”

  I lean back in my seat and chew on my bottom lip. That’s not an easy question for me to answer since it’s not nearly as black and white as Gabby seems to think it is.

  “It’s… complicated, Gabs,” I finally admit.

  “It’s actually not,” she retorts. “You either care about him, or you don’t. It’s a simple question.”

  “Gabby, with everything –”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She wags her finger at me. “I’m not asking about everything else. All I’m asking is whether you care about him or not.”

  I look down at the table, my mind spinning as I ponder her question. There’s no question that I feel something for Sawyer. I feel it right down into my bones. It’s powerful, and it’s profound. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt for anybody before. I find it liberating and terrifying at the same time. I can’t say it’s love. Even thinking it would be ridiculous because we’re nowhere near that far down the road just yet – but there is something there between us. It’s a visceral and raw emotional connection that fills me with a feeling of light and joy I’ve never known.

  I just don’t think I can indulge myself in it right now. It’s not the right time. Not with the craziness that is my life. Gabby calls it an overdeveloped sense of responsibility – and maybe it is. All I know right now, though, is that there is nobody else who can care for my father, and I won’t just throw him away like garbage because I want to have a social life.

  “I care about him,” I finally reply softly. “But I’m not in a place to do anything about it.”

  “You need to –”

  I raise my hand to cut her off, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of bitter melancholy, knowing that I have to put something I want up on the shelf because I don’t have the time for it.

  “I can’t, Gabs. Not right now,” I explain. “I won’t give up my advocacy work. Too many people are depending on me. And I can’t just abandon my dad.”

  She frowns, a look of genuine disappointment on her face. But she also doesn’t look like she expected anything less from me. And at the same time, she looks sad – for me. Seeing that expression in her eyes feels like a kick straight to the solar plexus.

  “At some point, you’re going to regret not choosing yourself, hon,” she almost whispers. “I know it’s hard, and I know he’s your dad, and you feel responsible for him – and that’s not a bad thing. But do you really think he’d want to see you living your life like this – with nothing in it but work and him to fill it?”

  I want to be angry. I want to shout at her that she just doesn’t understand. She has two parents who are healthy and don’t need her to care for them twenty-four hours a day. I get so tired of people – not just Gabby – telling me what I need or what I should do. Especially people who don’t have to live this existence. People who haven’t walked in my shoes and don’t know what my life is like right now. People who just don’t know anything.

  But she is right. My dad himself told me so. And instead of following along with that, I’ve chosen to make sure that he would never have to be without me. It’s my duty. My responsibility. But at the end of the day, it’s the choice I made. And that’s what really gets me.

  Could I make a different choice and still live with myself? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

  I know that Gabby is pushing me toward Sawyer because she loves me. I know it’s coming from a good place with her. But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

  “I know Gabs,” I tell her, biting back the bitterness in my voice. “I’m just – I’m not really in a place right now where I’m mentally and emotionally ready for a relationship.”

  She looks like she wants to argue further, but gives me a brief nod and that small, sad smile instead. I know what her question was going to be – if not now, when?

  It’s a good question. One that I have no answer to.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sawyer

  It’s been almost two weeks since my truncated night with Berlin, and I haven’t heard a peep out of her. I’ve left her a couple of messages and sent her a couple of texts but have gotten nothing but crickets in return. It’s a reversal of fortune for me since I’m usually the one who loses interest and moves on from somebody quickly. I’m not the one who gets ghosted, and I have to say, I don’t particularly like it.

  It makes me wonder if she regrets sleeping with me and thinks it was a mistake – and that she can correct that mistake by trying to wipe it away and pretend it never happened. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. But she should know that I’m not a man who’s easily deterred. If she really does regret it and doesn’t want to see me again, it would be better for her to just tell me straight up. It would save us both a lot of time and frustration.

  I step off the elevator, no longer content to sit around
and wait for her to call me back. It’s time to get some answers. The PD’s office is the usual hive of activity with people scurrying around like ants, doing their part to defend the downtrodden. I have to say, these people have a shit job and deal with shittier people, but I admire them for their dedication to it.

  I make my way to Berlin’s office and find the door open, just a crack. I can hear her inside – it sounds like she’s on the phone – so I push the door inward and slip my hands into my pockets as I lean against the frame and wait for her to finish up. Her back is to me, and she’s speaking into the phone, gesturing with her hands animatedly. I get the feeling this isn’t anything to do with work.

  “No, I just need a little more time. Please, just give me a few more days,” she pleads.

  Her shoulders seem bunched so tight; I don’t know how she’s ever going to get the knots out of them. But there’s something more there – the way she’s slumped forward a bit, her head down, it almost looks like she’s resigned to some particularly dark fate. She seems – defeated.

  It’s nothing I would have ever expected from her. Berlin, to me, seems larger than life. Determined. Strong. Indomitable. I’ve always thought it was one of her most attractive qualities.

  But seeing her now is like seeing a shadow of the woman I know – the woman I’m coming to care for a great deal.

  “I know, and I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t an emergency,” she goes on. “I just need a little more time. Please.”

  She spins around, and her eyes immediately grow wider than dinner plates when she sees me. She starts stammering to whoever she’s speaking with, seeming to lose her train of thought. She tears her eyes away from me and gives her head a shake as she tries to focus on her phone call again, but not before I saw the stark fear in her eyes.

  It’s not fear of me, and it wasn’t the expression of somebody who was startled. No, it had nothing to do with me – it was fear of something else. She looks like a woman who sees something terrible bearing down on her and feels powerless to do anything about it.