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Johanna has been nothing but warm and welcoming since I got here, but I wonder if she’ll be so accommodating once I confess to lying about my identity.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” I nervously tap my foot against the step. “You’ve been so kind this past week and it means more than you know, but I’ve been withholding information from you that might change your mind about me…” Here goes nothing. “My full name is Jack Sinclair. I’m Presley’s tyrannical boss… The one she’s always complaining about. I coerced her into letting me come home with her for the holidays when she refused to reschedule her trip, and it was my idea to tell you that we were dating.”
Johanna’s face is unreadable, and the lingering silence is grating on my nerves. I wish she’d say something… Anything, really. Even if it’s to tell me to get lost and never set foot in Aspen Grove again.
“Jack, I know who you are.” I’m confused when she gives me a warm smile. “I searched your name online the day my daughter told me she was going to work for you. I’ve never mentioned that to her so she must have assumed I didn’t know what you looked like. So, imagine my shock when you of all people showed up on my porch and announced you were her boyfriend.”
“Hold on.” I rub my hand across my face. “You said all of those negative things about Presley’s boss in front of me, even though you knew who I was?”
“Everything I said was true, wasn’t it?” She shrugs unapologetically. “I was curious how you’d react to hearing those things about yourself.”
“And?”
“You took it in stride,” she admits. “From the minute you stepped on my porch, I could feel the chemistry brewing between you and Presley. I figured it was best to just let things run their course without my interfering.”
That’s bullshit, because that means she knew exactly what she was doing when she suggested Presley and I share a bedroom during our stay.
“So you don’t mind that I want to date your daughter for real?”
“Over the past week, she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen her, and that’s because of you,” Johanna says. “We’ve all done things we regret, and all we can do is learn, grow, and move forward. As far as I’m concerned, the past should stay in the past. There’s no question you and Presley belong together.”
“What if Presley disagrees?”
“You’ll never know until you ask her,” Johanna points out. “Besides, from what I’m told, Jack Sinclair never takes no for an answer,” she says with a wink.
“You’ve got that right.”
I knock on Presley’s bedroom door, pushing it open when there’s no answer. I cautiously step inside and spot her standing by the window overlooking the front yard.
“I saw you talking to my mom,” she says.
“Yeah, she was waiting when I got back,” I tell her. “She knows I’m your boss.”
A look of disbelief crosses Presley’s face. “You told her?” Her voice is raised.
“I did. It was wrong of me to withhold the truth in the first place, and I shouldn’t have waited so long to admit it.” I laugh softly while replaying my recent conversation with Johanna in my head.
“What’s so funny?” Presley asks.
“Your mom knew who I was before I came to Aspen Grove,” I inform her. “She searched for me online when you started working at Sinclair Group. Despite knowing the truth, she had you and me stay in the same room together this past week.”
“Are you suggesting my mother set us up?”
“Indirectly, yes.”
Presley shakes her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, I should have known she’d do something like that.”
I owe Johanna for putting Presley and me in close quarters, giving me the courage I needed to transition our working relationship to a personal one. Now I just have to figure out how to fix what I’ve broken.
“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry for reading that letter,” I say with regret. “I should have talked to you about things from the start.”
“You hurt me, Jack.” Her voice is shaky.
She’s absolutely right. I’ve caused her heartache and broken her trust. That pains me more than any physical wound ever could. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to stand by and let her make false assumptions about our relationship.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her, needing to set the record straight.
“About what?”
