Page 20 of Hating the Boss

“When you say that, it makes me feel like we are back in high school,” said Brittany with a shake of her head, looking out across the tables to see if anyone was looking for her.

“It does, huh?” I laughed.

“I’ll be there,” said Brittany, shoving off the countertop and heading to a table that had just placed their credit card in the black leather envelope.

The next morning, Brittany and I arrived at Chester and Juliet’s penthouse on the upper east side. Brittany had two iced coffees in hand, and I had a little bag of rubber blocks and chunky wooden puzzles that were probably a little too hard for her, but we could give it a go. I loved surprising little Blair with gifts. She was barely two years old, sweet and sassy all wrapped in one.

Juliet answered the door, balancing on one white patent leather pump like a flamingo, while trying to slide the other one on. She looked so polished with her long blonde hair twisted into a high bun atop her head, her blue eyes coated with black mascara that made them pop. Chester stood a few feet behind her, messing with his cufflinks, his brows furrowed.

“Are we early?” I asked, glancing at the time on my phone.

“No, we’re just late,” she said breathlessly. “Come in, come in.” She waved Brittany and me into the grand entryway, giving us each a hug.

“Well, you look great,” I said, looking her up and down in the white shift dress she wore.

“She does, doesn’t she?” asked Chester, coming up and wrapping his arms around her middle. He nuzzled into her neck, the intimacy making Juliet’s cheeks flush. I suddenly had an inkling as to why they were running late.

“Where’s Blair?” I asked, looking around.

“She’s hiding,” said Juliet with a sly smile, pointing to a pile of blankets on the couch. “She wants to play hide and seek with you.”

“Oh! I love hide and seek!” I said, walking down the steps into the living room where a giggle escaped from the fluffy, cream blanket. I waved Juliet and Chester toward the door, giving them a look that said they were relieved of their parental duties. They smiled gratefully and slipped out.

Brittany and I wandered around the living room, pretending to look in various places, all while Blair’s giggle grew louder. Unable to hide any longer, she tore off the blanket and jumped up. I put my hand to my heart and Brittany let out a dramatic scream, making Blair laugh even harder. I picked her up and swooped her into my arms, giving her a kiss on the head.

We spent the next two hours playing more hide and seek, watching Bluey, and playing with the toys I had brought her. Brittany whipped up some pancakes and bacon in the kitchen. After we ate all of the sweet and salty bites, Blair’s eyes began to droop sleepily.

“Nap time!” I clapped my hands together.

She groaned in protest, but started waddling to her room. I tucked her into her crib, pulling the rose-colored velvet curtains closed, so the room was encased in darkness. On my way out, I flicked on her sound machine. The sound of ocean waves crashing filled the room. I gently closed the door on my way out and made my way down the hallway to where Brittany was drying the last of the dishes. I helped her put them away and then we collapsed lazily onto the couch.

Brittany pulled out her phone and looked at me mischievously.

“What?” I asked, raising a brow.

“It’s time,” she said, quickly typing in her phone, her red manicure moving quickly across the screen.

“For what?”

“To snoop!” She turned her phone toward me and I was met with Brad’s face staring back at me.

“Brittany!” I exclaimed, trying to grab the phone away from her.

She turned the phone back toward her and ran her eyes over it.

“He’s a mega zillionaire and he’s single!” She wiggled her brows.

“Give me that!” I said, snatching her phone away from her.

I read the blurb on the screen. He was a billionaire and had recently called off his engagement. That last part caught my attention. I had the desire to look her up, put Brittany’s stalking talents to work, but I refrained, wanting to read a little more about Brad. It was probably something I should have done before going in for my interview. It didn’t matter now, though. I got the job.

“He really is hot,” said Brittany, taking her phone back and scrolling through images on Google.

“I told you.”

I thought back to my little stunt in the fitting room and my cheeks flushed.

“Way hotter than what’s his face…” she said, sticking her tongue out in disgust.