Boss I Love To Hate Page 30

  “Do you have a reservation, miss?”

  I turn to see the hostess smiling back at me. I shake my head and try to collect myself quickly.

  “No, I’m meeting somebody,” I tell her. “It looks like he’s already here.”

  Without waiting for the hostess to reply, I cut my way around the tables, the taste of bile rising in my throat as I draw near the table. Sawyer’s lunchtime guest is a tall, leggy blonde. She’s got flawless tawny skin, honey-colored hair that’s been stylishly cut, eyes that are dark and soulful, and a body that would make even a priest blush. The woman is walking perfection, and every single insecurity or doubt I’ve ever had about myself come rushing to the surface and erupt all over me.

  As I stand there, I feel myself quaking. I feel myself growing nauseous and have to fight the urge to flee. I look down at the satchel in my hand and suddenly realize how stupid I’ve been. Sawyer will never go for this plan. How could I have ever thought he would? I place my hand on my stomach, trying to draw strength from the life growing within me – from our child.

  But standing there, looking at how cozy Sawyer and this mystery woman look together, smiling and laughing with one another, I feel exposed, scared – and I have no idea what to do. I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.

  Fear and self-loathing rise up in my throat, threatening to pull me under and drown me. That constant well of anger that lives within me overflows, washing away everything else. Soon, I stand there looking at them with a current of intense, white-hot anger running through every cell in my body.

  How could he do this to me? Two weeks and he’s moved on already? Was I really that replaceable this whole time? Obviously, Sawyer and I not only see humanity differently, but we also have very different definitions of what love is.

  A tear rolls down my cheek. I feel my heart shattering like glass, each shard breaking off inside of me, cutting deeply into my soul. I angrily wipe away the tear and clear my throat. I will not let him see me like this. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears and pain.

  Finally, back in control of myself, I stride to the table. Sawyer can’t hide the surprise in his eyes when he sees me but quickly moves to cover it. The woman he’s with eyes me up and down, an amused smirk on her perfectly full, immaculately painted lips. I hate her already.

  “Berlin,” he greets me. “What are you doing here?”

  I look at the woman and realize I know her from somewhere – but I can’t recall where I’ve seen her before. I’ve probably seen her in some lingerie magazine or a movie or something. I don’t know, and I don’t care. She’s an afterthought to me and isn’t the real issue here. She’s insignificant in this whole mess. It’s not her fault Sawyer is a lying, cheating dog. I turn back to Sawyer, rage and pain burning bright in my eyes.

  “Enjoying your lunch, Sawyer?”

  He looks at me like he doesn’t know what to say and cuts a look at his companion. She gives him an indulgent smile but can’t hide her sudden flush of awkwardness. I get the impression he never told her we were together.

  Shame and embarrassment wrap their cold hands around my heart and squeeze it tight. I fight to keep them from falling, but the tears roll down my cheeks anyway. Sawyer opens his mouth to speak, but I have no desire to hear what he has to say. He’s shown me who he is and what he’s about – and how quickly he can replace me. It makes me as furious as it does nauseous.

  Without stopping to think, I grab the glass of wine that’s sitting in front of him and throw it in his face. The wine hits him squarely in the face and staining his once-white shirt. He looks at me with an expression of astonishment on his face, sputtering in shock. I hear the gasps of the patrons around me and feel the weight of their stares, but I don’t care. His companion stares at me, eyes wide, her mouth hanging open, and I flash her a feral smile.

  “Enjoy the rest of your lunch,” I hiss.

  Turning on my heel, I stride out of the restaurant, feeling the eyes following me. My cheeks are burning with heat, and the tears flow freely down my face, but I don’t bother to wipe them away. I don’t care. All I want in that moment is to get away – to go home and shut myself away from the world.

  I make it to the sidewalk and feel the rain splashing down on me. People who are waiting under the awning turn to look at me as I scan the street for a cab.

  Suddenly, I feel a hand clamp down on my arm. I spin around, ready to throw a punch, but manage to hold off. But just barely. Sawyer is staring back at me, still wearing that same look of astonishment he had at the table.

  I wrench my arm free from his grip and stare daggers at him as my anger asserts itself. “Don’t touch me, Sawyer,” I spit. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  He takes a step back and shows me his palms. “Okay, okay.”

  “How could you do this to me, Sawyer?”

  “Berlin, this is not what it looks like,” he tries to explain. “This is not what you think. I promise you.”

  “I don’t want to hear your promises,” I scream at him. “I’m sick of your bullshit!”

  “Berlin, if you’d just calm down for a minute and –”

  “Calm down?” I cut him off. “Did you really just tell me to calm down?”

  His eyes narrow, and I see his jaw clench. He’s getting upset with me – like he has the moral high ground here or something. His arrogance is unbelievable.

  “Yes, I did just tell you to calm the fuck down,” he growls. “You stormed in here in full attack mode, looking for a fight.”

  The rage and the pain that have a tight hold on me are barely allowing me to breathe. My head is spinning. I feel like I’m on the verge of either passing out or having the most epic meltdown ever.

  “Berlin, listen to me –”

  I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh and feel the sting in my hand before I even realize what I’d done. I look down at my hand, red from delivering the blow like it’s an alien that acted on its own. Raising my eyes, I see the handprint coloring Sawyer’s cheek and a look of outright shock on his face. He can’t believe I slapped him any more than I can.

  There is a collective gasp from the people around us, and then everything falls silent. It’s like all of the oxygen has been sucked out, and we’re all just standing in a vacuum. But then a sound cuts through the silence – a steady click-click-click – and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. With a groan, I turn and see the gaggle of paparazzi crowding around us like vultures on top of a carcass, ripping and tearing their pound of flesh, gleeful smiles on all their faces.

  My eyes burning with tears, my face burning with embarrassment, I turn and run, leaving them all behind me, my tears mixing with the rain.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sawyer

  I watch Berlin run off, see her melting into the crowd, but make no further move to stop her. If I try to force her to talk right now, it’s going to go very badly – for both of us. I’m so pissed off right now; I can’t be trusted to speak to her. And of course, she’s so angry; she shouldn’t talk to me either. The difference, though, is that her anger is based on her misunderstanding. On her own ignorance of the situation.

  It’s been a constant theme through our relationship – Berlin flying off the handle and not giving me a chance to actually explain what’s happening. She’s always in attack mode, always spoiling for a fight, and although I love her, I don’t know that I can continue living that way. Not if she’s always going to predisposed to believing the worst about me.

  As I stand there seething, I become aware of the people crowded around on the sidewalk gawking at me. And as I come back to myself, the next thing I’m aware of is the clicking and whirring of the cameras. I turn slowly and see the paparazzi huddled on the sidewalk, snapping shots and giggling excitedly to one another. I’m overcome with a dark anger and the urge to smash something, so I step forward, intending to do just that, when I feel a hand on my shoulder, gently urging me to stop.

  “You really don�
��t want to do that,” she says.

  I turn and find myself staring into Haley’s smiling face. She shakes her head, her eyes flashing me a warning.

  “Too many witnesses around,” she whispers.

  Despite the anger coursing through my veins, a small laugh escapes me. I take a deep breath and try to force myself to calm down. Being pissed off isn’t going to do anything for me – and beating the shit out of a paparazzi isn’t going to help either. But it might feel really, really good.

  Haley holds out her oversized umbrella, so it’s covering the both of us, and we walk down the sidewalk, away from the crowds and the cameras. As we walk, I keep breathing, doing everything I can to diminish the anger inside of me – a feat it takes several blocks to accomplish.

  We stop at a coffee cart, and I grab us a couple of cups, handing one over to her one. We take a minute to fix our drinks and then continue to walk as the rain lightens up and fades to a soft, sporadic drizzle.

  “Well, that was fun,” Haley chirps.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I reply. “I didn’t –”

  “No need to apologize,” she cuts me off. “I know a bit about Berlin Roth.”

  I turn to her. “You do?”

  She nods. “She has a great reputation. At least, among my kind. She’s a terrific lawyer, committed to her causes,” Haley affirms. “She fights for the people who don’t have a voice.”

  “She’s also a notorious hothead.”

  “I’ve heard that too,” she laughs. “But still, I have to respect her for standing up for her convictions and for not taking any shit from people. Least of all from you.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  She gives me a cheeky smile and a laugh. “I have to admit to admiring her for getting you to back down on the Atwell project.”

  “I didn’t back down,” I respond. “I worked with her to come to a resolution that satisfied us both. There’s a difference.”

  “I heard you’re eating more than a few million on your mutually satisfying resolution,” she scoffs. “Where I come from, that’s called an ass-kicking.”

  The grin pulls my lips upward, and I shake my head as I chuckle softly. “I could have played hardball. I had the legal right to knock that building down,” I tell her. “I chose not to.”

  “Thus making her kicking your ass all the more impressive.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, fine. Whatever,” I snap. “She kicked my ass. Happy?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Haley smiles. “And you know I’m screwing with you. I was pleasantly surprised you called off the dogs. Showed me that maybe you do have a heart – small, blackened, and charred though it might be.”

  “You never let up, do you?”

  “In my line of work, I can’t,” she responds. “Girl’s gotta keep her guard up around wolves like you.”

  We walk on in silence for a few minutes. I’m starting to have my first doubts about Haley and this whole arrangement. She seems more interested in insulting and sticking it to me than in anything else. It’s downright annoying, and I’m on the verge of calling this whole thing off. It almost reminds me of – well, of Berlin. And that only annoys me further.

  As if she can feel me bristling, Haley stops and turns to me. I follow suit.

  “Listen, I’m just busting your balls,” she admits. “I’m just messing with you, and I don’t mean anything by it.”

  “Yeah well, you should know that you’re really pissing me off.”

  “Jeez. And you say Berlin’s the hothead,” she laughs softly and then raises her hand in surrender. “I’m sorry. I was surprised that you called me, but I’m grateful. I think you and I can do some terrific things together.”

  “That was my hope originally,” I reply. “You and Berlin are a lot alike. It’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

  “Was your hope? Past tense?”

  “If this is going to happen, I’m not going to be your punching bag,” I insist. “I don’t have to do this, you know. I’m doing this because I want to – not because I’m required to.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m only saying this because Berlin probably can’t. She’s too close to you. It’s the right thing to do, you know it’s the right thing to do, and if anything, you’d be an even bigger asshole for suddenly withholding this new project just for your pride.”

  “Haley, I –”

  “Not gonna tell you how to live your life, Sawyer. I want this to happen. I really do. But it’s important that you know the score here. You don’t get to hold it over our heads like a carrot so you can play the kind, generous hero. Either you do the right thing, or you don’t. And that’s your decision to make.”

  I let out a long breath and look across the street, watching the people bustling about despite the light drizzle falling on their heads. It reminds me of the people standing outside the Jackson through the rain, snow, and cold. All for something they believe in.

  And as I recall Martha and Julio – and all the others – I know there’s no way in hell I can go back on what I’m thinking about doing. Meeting them and listening to their stories, puts a human face to them now. I can’t just turn them out into the cold any more than I could turn out my own family.

  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be a convenient target for Haley’s ridicule and scorn.

  “Fine. But I’m not going to take any shit from you.”

  “Fair enough. And I’m sorry. I really was just pushing your buttons.”

  She stares at me for a long moment as if she’s expecting me to deliver the punchline. But when I don’t, we turn and continue walking. The silence between us is companionable, and the tension that had been radiating through me a moment ago begins to dissipate.

  “She loves you,” Haley remarks. “You know that right?”

  “I have a feeling she’s reconsidering that right about now.”

  “She’s not. That wasn’t really anger back there,” she goes on. “That was hurt. Pain. She was lashing out because her heart was breaking.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I remain silent. I know what she was thinking – know what she thinks is happening between Haley and I. But in typical Berlin fashion, she reacted before gathering the facts.

  “I honestly don’t know that we’re compatible,” I say softly. “We’re so different in so many ways. Important ways.”

  “Something you have to understand is that when Berlin feels like she’s been backed into a corner, she fights,” Haley says. “It’s how she grew up, and it’s what she knows. It’s all she knows.”

  “And what makes you such an expert?”

  “Because like you said, she and I are a lot alike,” Haley shrugs. “Our stories are very similar. In fact, they’re almost carbon copies of each other.”

  I admit to not knowing Haley’s backstory. I know nothing about her other than what she does. For whatever reason, I thought she grew up in a wealthy family, so to hear that she and Berlin have similar origin stories is surprising to me. Though I guess maybe it shouldn’t be. I have to believe it’s what fuels her passion – just like it fuels Berlin’s.

  “Your girl is always going to view herself as the underdog. She’s always going to believe that the deck is stacked against her,” Haley explains. “It’s what makes her so effective as a lawyer and an advocate.”

  “And it’s also what leads to all of our fighting.”

  “Well, that’s something you two are going to have to work out on your own,” she responds. “I’m just telling you how she thinks so you can better understand her.”

  “What else?” I press. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Well, obviously I can’t say definitively since everybody’s different, but I can give you my opinion. Call it an educated guess.”

  “That’s fair.”

  We stop at a small bench outside a pastry shop and sit down. Haley takes a drink of her coffee, looking off into the distance as if she’s tak
ing a minute to organize her thoughts. I’m sure this is a direction she didn’t anticipate today’s conversation going in. I know I certainly didn’t expect it to take this kind of a turn. But if it helps me to better understand Berlin, all the better.

  “She will always see herself as the underdog because she’s always going to feel insecure about herself. She’s never going to feel good enough, and like she has to fight hard for anything she gets,” Haley elaborates. “She’s always going to find herself lacking in some way, and she’s always going to fight to make up for her perceived shortcomings. And you know as well as I do that when she fights, she’ll never, ever give up.”

  I sit back and take a drink of my coffee, absorbing everything she just said. It makes sense. If that’s the way she really feels about herself, it’s no wonder she takes offense so easily and comes out shooting first and asking questions later. It also explains why she fights so hard for those people she identifies with – why she does everything she can for the have-nots in a world she feels is rigged against them at every turn.

  As those thoughts tumble through my head, Robert’s words come back to me once more – if you understand who she fights for, you’ll understand Berlin.

  I turn to Haley and give her a tight smile. “Thank you,” I say. “A lot of that makes sense.”

  “Good. Now go grab your girl and fix things. I am really looking forward to her and getting this project off the ground,” she fires back. “But more than that, fix things for the both of you. Or should I say the three of you?”

  I turn to her, feeling my surprise coloring my face. “How in the hell did you know? She’s not even showing yet.”

  She gives me a small shrug. “What can I say? I’m just brilliant like that.” Haley grins and scrunches her nose at me. “Or maybe I’m psychic. Either way, you would make a great dad – so make an honest woman of Berlin. You never know, it might even help make some of her insecurities vanish.”