Best of Penny Wylder: Boss Romance

by Wylder, Penny

  “What do you mean, unbelievable?” Mom eyes me with that expression of perfect innocence that I’ve fallen for one too many times with her.

  “I’m used to you making stuff up, but a hospital visit? You had me scared shitless. Are you really that desperate for cash?”

  Her face flushes a bright, angry red. “I didn’t make it up, Cassidy. There’s a very important procedure I need done, and it’s expensive.”

  I stare, unmoved, my jaw set hard. The old, usual guilt I feel whenever I face down my mother is nowhere to be felt today. I’m standing my ground, for once. “You scared the hell out of me, you know. I thought you were having a heart attack or something. Now you’re acting like you don’t even remember telling me there was an issue. At least try to keep your own lies straight, for God’s sake.”

  “I never said it was an emergency,” Mom replies, lips pursed. “It’s hardly my fault you leapt to that conclusion—you’re always so dramatic.”

  “Like that wasn’t exactly what you wanted me to do,” I burst out. “Panic and give you all the money I’ve worked so hard to earn without asking any questions.”

  “Daughters should want to help their mothers,” she coos, her voice lowering now. “If I’m going to find a new husband, I can’t go back out on the dating market looking my age,” she says.

  My stomach churns as it hits me. “Oh, my God. You want money for plastic surgery?”

  “Just a chin tuck and an eye lift,” she protests. “And a little work on my breasts—those are your fault, I might add, they were perky as anything before I had you. It’s the least you can do. Your company has money coming in aplenty, and I know that boy you’ve been seeing is rich. Surely he’ll grant you one little favor.”

  That does it. I ball my fists under the table and sit ramrod straight in the chair. “I am not begging Lark for money.”

  Mom’s expression shifts into a scowl. “Honey, haven’t I taught you better than this by now? You can’t be with a man who you can’t depend on. If he’s not willing to help you and your family, how can you trust that he’s got your best interests at heart?”

  “That’s not love, Mom. That’s not a healthy relationship, and deep down, you know it.”

  “So you’re saying I’m unhealthy.” My mother sniffs and straightens in her own chair, too.

  I groan. “Kind of! You keep living off other people, expecting them to do everything for you. First it was men, now your own daughter?”

  “And you never ask for help, or take what you’re owed from anyone,” my mother retorts. “This is history repeating itself all over again. First you date that Norman, perfectly fine young man with plenty of money, but you let him run roughshod all over you. You never asked him for anything, and so he never felt a responsibility toward you; he never took care of you. But you have a chance to do it right this time.”

  “Mom, Norman was an abusive piece of shit,” I reply, before I can stop myself. The moment the words leave my mouth, my mother’s eyes fly wide open. So do mine, honestly.

  I’ve never said that out loud before.

  It feels good. It feels freeing. And moreover, it’s the truth.

  “I never told you because I didn’t want you to worry about me. But it got really bad by the end.” I stare into her eyes, and watch as the anger melts from her expression, replaced by worry. I force myself to keep talking. “I’m okay now, though. Really. I’ve been seeing a therapist I really like, and she’s helped me reframe a lot of the unhealthy ways I look at the world. The bad patterns I seek out in relationships. Because, well… kids tend to mirror what they see growing up. And I had a lot to mirror with you.”

  Then I slide my hand across the table, palm up. My mother stares as if it’s a snake that might bite her. But, after a moment, to my utter shock, she takes it.

  Mom opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “You don’t need plastic surgery, Mom. You’re as beautiful now as you’ve always been, if you just let yourself see it. And you don’t need other people’s money to live, either. You are strong enough to make it on your own. And so am I.”

  I squeeze her hand tightly.

  There’s a long pause, during which my heart rises into my throat. But then, finally, she squeezes back.

  I set a card on the table. “This is my therapist’s number. She’s got appointments free, if you want to go. I think it could be good for you.” Then I fold my arms on the table and lift a hand, waving for the check. “But Mom… this meal is the last payment you’re ever going to be able to guilt out of me. Understood? I’m on a new path now, I’m healing, and I’m learning how to set boundaries and take care of myself. I hope you can do that too. But I’m not going to enable you anymore.”

  “Cassidy…” Her voice sounds tight. Scratchy. Like she’s holding back tears.

  So am I. But I won’t let her sorrow move me. Maybe someday, if she goes to therapy too and works through her own issues, my mother and I can work on rebuilding our fractured relationship. I hope so. But until then, I meant what I just said. I won’t let her use me anymore.

  My mother’s gaze drifts to the card and back to my face. “I was trying to teach you how to survive in a world that’s cruel to women. A world where we need to take every advantage we can get our hands on.”

  “I understand that. But it’s not healthy. And it’s not the way we should be surviving.”

  The waiter finally approaches with the bill. I slip payment into it, leaving a hefty tip like I always do. Mom would disapprove, but then, I’m breaking free of her restraints now. I’m learning to live my life the way I want to. Not the way I was taught.

  I take my coat and rise, scooping my phone off the table. There’s a message from Lark. Probably telling me how the meeting with the counselor went. He told me this morning, before he left, what he planned to do. I only hope that it works out, somehow. Maybe there will be a miracle and Sheryl will realize she’s being a complete asshole. Do an about-face and let Lark keep his share of the company he built.

  Somehow, I doubt it. But hey, a girl can hope.

  “Goodbye, Mom.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. She doesn’t kiss me back.

  But she does, I notice, pocket the therapist’s card, just before I turn to leave. It’s a small action. A tiny step. I only hope that for once, my mother will choose to walk the hard road in the right direction.

  35

  Cassidy

  “Can we afford this?” I ask, laughing, as Lark leads me by the hand out onto the rooftop of one of the newest restaurants in town. There’s a panoramic view of the whole city glittering at our feet, and hardly anyone else up here.

  In fact, now that I’m looking around more closely… There’s no one else here, except for a team of waiters, all eying us like we’re a king and queen who just waltzed in. My suspicions rise even further.

  “Lark…” I say.

  He nudges me. “Relax, Cassidy. I called in a favor with an old friend, that’s all.”

  It’s been a few months since our big showdown with both Sheryl and my mother. It took some more arguing on Lark’s part, but Sheryl did finally sign the divorce papers. He’s out a company, and we’re both starting over. We spent a last long fun weekend in his gorgeous penthouse, and then we moved his stuff into my place for the time being.

  He turned a healthy profit selling the penthouse, but he didn’t want to buy another place just yet. “This is my investment money now,” he told me the night the sale went through. “And I already know the business I want to pour it into.”

  My cheeks flushed when I realized what he meant. “Lark, I’ve told you a million times, the last thing I want is your money—”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “And I’m not giving it to you, Cass. I’m investing in your future. You’re the business genius now.” He’d ruffled my hair, and my chest swelled with a mixture of pride and pleasure.

  With that money, we’ve been able to continue to keep up with the increased demand my little startup makeu
p company was already seeing. More and more orders have been flooding in every day, and we even expanded to a workshop in town. I hired a couple employees—really fun, upbeat people who are eager to make their mark on this industry too.

  Judging by the way our profits are soaring, we’ll be back on our feet again soon enough. I’ve already caught Lark eying sweet little townhouses in the neighborhood near where we set up shop. I can tell he wants to keep it a surprise, though, so I’ve pretended not to notice him browsing real estate listings late at night, while I’m getting ready for bed.

  It’s funny. I thought success would be what makes me so happy. But it’s not. It’s knowing that I can do this on my own. I can make my own way in the world and survive just fine. I don’t need to rely on anybody else.

  But it is nice to have a teammate in this fight. I reach over to catch Lark’s hand and squeeze lightly. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I tell him, grinning. I know he still has friends in high places around the city, from when he used to be one of their best customers.

  But I’m not sure why he decided to call in a favor tonight, of all nights. When we were just going out for what I thought would be a quiet dinner, the two of us, to unwind after a long week of working at the shop.

  He grins and leans in to kiss me, his lips lingering for a moment, stealing my breath the way they always do. Then he crosses to the table and draws out my chair, whipping the napkin like he’s a professional. “Oh, but I did,” he replies. “Don’t you know what tonight is?”

  I laugh, and take my seat, letting him fold the napkin over my lap before he takes his own chair. “It’s… a Friday?” I guess.

  He shakes his head, tsking. “Am I the only sentimental one?” he says. Then he lifts a hand, and one of the waiters approaches with a bottle of champagne whose label I recognize. It’s expensive. But Lark winks, and I know he’s got it under control. If my man knows anything, it’s when to budget… and when to splurge on spoiling me.

  He reaches over the tablecloth and catches my hand, his thumb tracing now-familiar circles over the back of my palm. “Today marks exactly six months since we first met. Did you realize that?”

  I lift my eyebrows. “You were keeping track since the day we met?”

  “Of course, Cassidy.” He leans forward, and I mirror him, our gazes locked over the candlelit table. “That first night we met, I knew we had something special. I just didn’t realize yet how special.”

  “You’re so sappy,” I tease, but I’m grinning like an idiot too.

  “You love it,” he retorts, and I nod, cheeks flush.

  “Definitely.” Then I’m the one to lean in and kiss him, slow, savoring this moment.

  When we break apart, he’s smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. “But that’s not all we’re celebrating,” he says. “I got some… news, today.”

  “Oh?” Both my eyebrows lift. He raises my hand, still grasped in his, to his lips and kisses the back of it.

  “The divorce has been finalized.”

  My jaw drops, and my heart soars. “Already?”

  “We were able to fast-track it, since we both agreed to the terms. My lawyer told me I was being an idiot; he thinks I should have taken Sheryl to court, that I could’ve gotten more out of her. But I just wanted it done and over with, you know? There are more important things to me than money, these days.”

  I squeeze his hand tightly, knowing exactly what he means. “I’m sorry,” I say. “About the company.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t be. I got the better deal out of this.” He winks at me. “I got you.”

  A happy rush trickles through me. Lark is free of his past now. We both are.

  As for me, my mother did start seeing a therapist, finally. It took a few months before she caved in. But she seems happier now. We even managed to eat an entire meal together without fighting—and at the end of it, she footed the bill, without so much as a single snarky comment. It’s slow progress. But we’re getting there. And more importantly, I’ve learned how to hold fast to my boundaries. How to show myself as much respect as the other people in my life.

  “Look at us,” I murmur, smiling. “We’ve come so far in just half a year.”

  “We really have.” Lark tilts his head to look out over the side of the rooftop. “I’m proud of us.”

  “Me, too,” I whisper. Then I follow his gaze, going quiet. We take a moment to gaze out over the city at our feet, like we’re the only ones in our own private world right now. I feel… comfortable. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. I didn’t realize before, how much of my life I spent yearning and struggling. Not until I finally found a comfortable balance with Lark.

  Now, I understand balance. I understand how to work hard, but also how to give myself a break, and balance that hard work out with self-care, days off, time with the ones I love.

  “Thank you, Cassidy,” Lark murmurs, startling me out of my reverie.

  I turn back to him, smiling. “For what? I’m the one who forgot our six month anniversary,” I joke. “I should be the one thanking you.”

  But he shakes his head, his expression suddenly much more serious than it has been since we walked out here. “I mean it. Before I met you… I was willing to just settle for mediocre. I thought it was better to be secure financially but miserable in every other way. I thought…” He pauses, a rush of emotion coming over his expression. “I thought I’d never really know what love was. Not the kind other people talk about, where you’d do anything for your partner, where you put their happiness before your own and vice versa. But then I met you.”

  I couldn’t break my gaze away from Lark’s now if I wanted to. Those deep, handsome green eyes pull me in like gravity.

  “You made me see that I could be happy again—really happy, not just getting by.” A smile touches the corners of his lips, ever so slightly. “And you taught me that I can start over if I really need to. That I’ve still got what it takes to build something from the ground up.”

  Now it’s my turn to hesitate, if only because my throat has gone tight. “Lark…”

  “I’m so glad I met you, Cassidy.” He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t break my gaze. He extends his other hand too, the one I’m not already holding, and I reach out to let him take both of my hands now. His palms feel warm and familiar against mine. Reassuringly strong. I always feel safe when he holds me like this. “I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you,” Lark says softly.

  I let out a little laugh, now, my chest clenched with emotion. “You sound like you’re proposing,” I say, if only to break the tension, because if I try to say anything else, I’ll start to cry, I just know it.

  Lark lifts one eyebrow, and nods at my wine glass.

  Frowning, I look down at it. I hadn’t even noticed the waiter pouring the champagne earlier. I’d been so focused on Lark, on being here with him.

  At the bottom of my glass, something’s glittering. Bubbles drift around it, obscuring it. But… it looks circular, maybe. With a different shape on one end.

  When I look up again, Lark is kneeling next to my chair. On one knee. Holding only my left hand, now.

  My stomach leaps up into my throat. I let out a strangled sound, half cry, half laugh, and my free hand flutters up to cover my mouth. “What…” I manage to say, but Lark shushes me, a little half-smile he can’t quite suppress on his face.

  “Cassidy Marks. You’ve been the best thing to happen to me in my entire life. For all the reasons I just listed, and about a million more. You are the reason I believe in love again. And, if you’ll have me, I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. For the rest of our lives.” He lifts one eyebrow, the sly, knowing expression that I first fell in love with crossing his features. “Will you marry me?”

  A huge, stupid smile breaks out across my face. “Of course.” The words have barely left my mouth before he tugs me to my feet. We meet standing, and our mouths collide with force, my hands burying themselves in his hair before I even realize I�
��ve moved. He winds his arms around my waist, pulling me up and against him, bending to deepen the kiss.

  Dimly, on the edge of my perception, I’m aware of someone playing music.

  When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, a quartet has started playing on the far side of the rooftop. The waiters are all clapping and cheering, and a blush heats my face.

  While I’m still standing there trying to surreptitiously pinch my arm and make sure this is real, Lark reaches for my flute and uses a fork to fish the ring out. “I wondered how long it was going to take you to notice this on your own,” he teases, and I let out a shaky, breathless laugh.

  The ring… oh, my God. The ring is beautiful. A single princess cut diamond that glitters in the low lights of the rooftop. He slips it onto my finger, and it fits perfectly, the rock so big that…

  “Tell me you didn’t dip into savings,” I tell him, one eyebrow lifted.

  He laughs and shakes his head, bending to kiss me again. “It’s my grandmother’s ring,” he says. “Family heirloom. I never used it before, because…” he stops and bites his lower lip. “Well. Maybe a part of me always knew my first marriage wasn’t right. But I want you to have this. I want you to be a part of our family now.”

  My heart races. I rest my hand on his chest, and the diamond glitters brightly. Then I lean my head on his shoulder, and Lark draws me into a slow dance, swaying across the rooftop. “You’re perfect, you know that?” I murmur, head still pressed to his chest.

  He laughs. “Far from it.” Then he brushes a fingertip beneath my chin and tilts my head back so I meet his gaze. “But we are perfect, Cassidy,” he whispers. “Together.”

  * * *

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