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I held up my hands. “It’s fine. Honestly, I don’t dislike my boss, and I want him to succeed in his position, so it’s okay.”
“Since when you did not dislike him?” Harvey asked, side-eying me. “All you ever did before you left was complain about him.”
“I still complain about him. Just not to you,” I pointed out.
“I’m offended by that.”
“Why? All you ever do is tell me to shut up about him.”
“And I miss doing that.”
Aunt Fizz pressed her fingers against her temples. “Honestly, sometimes I’m very happy you two aren’t real siblings. I don’t know if I could have dealt with your bickering for eighteen years.”
I grinned. “Don’t worry. I might have drowned him by the time I turned thirteen.”
“Well, you’re still young.”
“Mum!” Harvey exclaimed, banging his fist against the table. “This favouritism is getting out of hand.”
Aunt Fizz grabbed the nearest tea towel, twisted it, and whipped it in his direction. “Don’t sit there whining. Aren’t you the one who came here shouting and yelling about that bastard whisking our Chloe away up north?”
I smiled smugly, slowly turning my face in his direction. “Oh? Were we playing at being big brother again?”
Harvey buried his face in his hands. “I really wish you’d stayed up there, you know.”
I leant against him, grinning. “You don’t mean that. You missed me, didn’t you?”
“Like a hole in the head.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”
“After four weeks of not seeing you?” I said, hugging his arm and squeezing. “Never. Not ever. Nuh-uh.”
Harvey sighed. “Damn it. Welcome home, Chlo.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – CHLOE
An Unexpected Guest
Over the past five years, I’d been introduced to a vast variety of gentlemen courtesy of my dear auntie.
On her part, they were genuine introductions to eligible, respectful young men she felt suited me. She wasn’t just setting me up with people for the sake of it—she went to the effort to vet her future nephew-in-law and make sure we were actually compatible before ever connecting us.
It was a wonderfully thoughtful act that never failed to put me in an awkward situation.
Not because I didn’t like any of the men that she introduced me to. On the other hand, I often found myself getting along splendidly with them. They were kind, thoughtful, respectful, and to this day, only one of my many potential suitors had taken my rejection badly.
That was a testament to my aunt’s taste in men.
The problem was that I’d always thought that Aunt Fizz’s taste in men and mine were vastly different.
The one thing her dates always had in common was that they were all handsome, successful, and more than just a little financially comfortable. Some even had some personal connections to the aristocracy and fancy rich people with more money than sense, and a lot of them meant I’d never have to work a day in my life again.
In other words, they were all the very kind of man I worked for—and I knew enough about that life to know that I wanted no part of it outside of the office. I’d always imagined myself marrying someone who was successful enough to have job security but who’d never have to work twenty-hour days, had a solid salary, and wouldn’t be intimidated by the fact I’d one day receive an inheritance from my aunt that would set up our future children and then some.
Idealistic? Perhaps.
