Page 113 of Hot for the Boss

Within hours, I was convinced of that fact, but I slept on it. The following morning, I resolved to call her to talk everything through face-to-face. Sure, I didn’t want to spend another wretched night like the previous one—in the condo I shared with Becca, feeling utterly lost and crushed. But it was more. I needed to be near Nia again. Only she can make me whole.

But when I rang, I discovered she’d disconnected her number.

She didn’t appear for work. In fact, her desk had already been emptied, and her badge lay next to my computer, along with a list of appointments, passwords, and files.

When I stopped by her cottage, prepared to beg her, she refused to answer the door.

I’ve tried to make contact with her every day since our breakup. No response. My Facebook messages go unanswered and unread, as do my emails.

She’s spending time with Lund Junior, according to her social media. They even publicly recognized one another as siblings and posed together for pictures in the park. In the photos, I see her smiling, but she doesn’t look happy.

I’m falling apart.

Why won’t she talk to me?

Because I was a douche who accused her of terrible shit. Because I didn’t listen to my heart.

“You okay?”

I turn to find Harlow lingering uncertainly in the doorway of their home office. I’ve been holed up here all morning, trying to focus on work…but there’s not a lot coming my way right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m wasting my time. No, I’m hiding out.

“Sure. How are you?” I see her hand on her belly. “Is the baby active this morning?”

“He’s getting restless. It’s nothing new.” She shrugs. “Want to talk about it?”

No sense in pretending I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Not really.”

It won’t change anything.

“Well, that’s too bad. I hate to be the buzzkill at your pity party—okay, no, I don’t—but you need to figure this out. You and Nia are married.”

Yes, but for how much longer?

“More than that, you belong together. You two are having a baby,” she goes on. “You have a million reasons to work things out with her.”

“I don’t know where to start. She’s not speaking to me.”

“Whatever you did must have been messed up because that woman is in love with you.”

I close my eyes, but there’s no escaping the pain. “It was. And it was entirely my fault.”

Harlow sighs. “All of Barclay Reed’s children have an unfortunate genetic predisposition to mistrust and stupidity when it comes to relationships. Maxon took Keeley for granted and almost lost her. Griff threw Britta away once and nearly failed to believe in her the second time. And me? Noah is a saint for putting up with all my hot-and-cold mood swings and my skittishness in committing. My brothers and I have learned to admit when we’re wrong. For the record, it sucks, but the skill is admittedly helpful because we have to use it a lot. Tell Nia you’re sorry. She’ll listen.”

“I accused her of marrying me to swindle me. So probably not. Besides, I’ve tried.”

Harlow winces. “Wow, that’s a fucked-up low, even for a Reed. I don’t know whether to bow to you or just shake my damn head. What a dumb ass.”

“I deserve to be called worse.”

“Um…yeah, but I won’t heap on you when you’re obviously miserable. So you need to find a way to reach her, beyond the usual lame flowers and pitiful groveling.”

“Yes, but what’s going to persuade her to forgive me? I’ve wracked my brain. I’ve got nothing.”

“One thing I’ve learned—that all us Reed kids have—is that actions speak louder than words. If you accused her of something seriously awful, you need to show her that you know better now. You need to prove that you believe her.”

“How do I do that?”

Harlow shrugs. “If I were in her shoes, I’d want something meaningful. And sacrificial. I’m not saying you should offer her your balls on an altar of apology literally…but figuratively? Absolutely.”