More Than a Boss
2875 Words
I woke up still thinking about it.
Some people leave a bigger mark on your life than they realize.
The sentence had followed me into sleep and somehow managed to follow me right back into the morning.
It sat there while I brushed my teeth.
While I got dressed.
While I grabbed my bag and checked my phone for the third time.
And somehow it still didn't make any more sense than it had the night before.
Unfortunately, I didn't have time to obsess over it.
The Carrow presentation was in two hours, and my notes were still spread across my desk like they'd exploded overnight.
By the time I got to the office, my confusion had been replaced by something much more immediate.
Panic.
"You look like you're about to throw up," Vincent said as he fell into step beside me.
"Thank you. Very encouraging."
"I specialize in encouragement."
I glanced at him.
He looked entirely too amused for someone claiming to be supportive.
"Big meeting?" he asked.
"Carrow account. I'm presenting the projections."
His eyebrows lifted.
"In front of Nathan?"
"In front of Nathan. In front of investors. In front of basically everyone whose opinion of me matters professionally."
"No pressure then."
"None at all."
Vincent laughed.
Then he bumped his shoulder lightly against mine.
"You'll be fine."
I appreciated the attempt.
Unfortunately, I wasn't fine.
I realized exactly how not fine I was about four minutes into the presentation.
One second I was moving through the slides.
The next, I clicked the wrong one.
Then somehow managed to say "third quarter" instead of "fourth quarter" in front of three investors who definitely noticed.
My stomach immediately dropped.
"Sorry," I said quickly, fumbling with the remote. "That's fourth quarter, obviously. Let me just—"
"The numbers track consistently across both quarters."
Nathan's voice cut smoothly through the room before I could completely embarrass myself.
Every head turned toward him.
"Isla's projections account for the seasonal dip we discussed during the last meeting," he continued. "If you look at the adjusted figures here—"
He gestured toward the screen.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Like nothing had happened.
Like I hadn't just made a mistake in front of people whose approval mattered.
The attention shifted away from me almost instantly.
Back to the data.
Back to the discussion.
Back to Nathan.
My pulse was still racing.
I stood there trying to recover while he carried the conversation forward so naturally that nobody questioned it.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't point out the mistake.
Didn't make a joke about it.
Didn't embarrass me.
He simply gave me enough time to find my footing again.
By the time the presentation ended, nobody seemed to remember the mistake.
Unfortunately, I remembered every second of it.
As soon as we stepped outside the conference room, Vincent appeared beside me.
"That was interesting."
I already knew where this was going.
"What was?"
"Nathan Vale covering for someone's mistake in front of investors."
"He was keeping the meeting on track."
Vincent gave me a look.
The kind that said he thought I was being ridiculous.
"Mm."
"What?"
"He doesn't do that."
"Yes, he does."
"No, he doesn't."
I adjusted the folder in my arms and kept walking.
"He was being professional."
"Sure."
"He was."
Vincent's smile widened.
"He's done that for you three times this month."
I stopped.
"What?"
"I've started keeping a tally."
I stared at him.
"You have not."
"I absolutely have."
"You need hobbies."
"It's a very organized tally."
"Vincent."
"I'm just saying."
He lifted both hands innocently.
"For a man who once made a junior analyst cry during a budget review, he's remarkably gentle with you."
My face immediately felt warm.
Which was unfortunate.
Because Vincent noticed everything.
I turned away before he could enjoy it too much.
if I was honest with myself. I started noticing it days ago, The way I scanned a room for Nathan before I even realized I was doing it.
The way his absence registered before his presence did.
It had happened again that morning, walking into the breakroom and feeling a flicker of disappointment when he wasn't there, before immediately questioning why I'd expected him to be.
He's my CEO.
That should have made everything simple.
Somehow, it didn't.
It felt dangerous, noticing things like that.
The stress of the day finally caught up with me sometime after six.
The presentation was over.
The investors were gone.
Most of the office had already started emptying out.
But I was still sitting at my desk staring at a report that refused to cooperate.
At some point I rubbed my eyes and realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten.
That probably wasn't a great sign.
I tried focusing on the numbers again.
It didn't help.
The numbers were still numbers.
The report was still annoying.
And my brain felt like it had officially stopped working.
"You're still here."
The voice made me look up.
Nathan stood beside my desk.
His tie was gone.
His sleeves were rolled up.
For once, he looked almost as tired as I felt.
"Finishing the report," I said.
His gaze moved to my screen.
"It's almost eight."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I narrowed my eyes.
"I am aware of how clocks work."
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Then it disappeared again.
"Go home, Isla."
"I will."
"When?"
"When this is done."
His eyes stayed on me for a second.
Long enough to make me uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was looking.
Then he pulled out the empty chair beside my desk and sat down.
I blinked.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping."
I stared.
"Helping?"
"That's generally what the word means."
I couldn't help it.
A laugh escaped me.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
There was something about the way he said it.
Simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Like the fact that he didn't have to wasn't relevant.
Before I could argue again, he'd already turned his attention toward my screen.
And somehow that was the end of the discussion.
The next twenty minutes passed surprisingly quickly.
Mostly because Nathan worked at a speed that felt slightly unfair.
Every time I finished something, he'd already finished three more things.
At one point he reached across me to adjust a formula.
His hand brushed close enough to mine that my concentration immediately disappeared.
Which was embarrassing.
Because he didn't seem affected at all.
"You're staring at the same number."
I looked up.
"What?"
"For the last thirty seconds."
"I have not."
"You have."
"I was thinking."
"You were staring."
I frowned.
"You're annoying."
"So I've been told."
I looked back at my screen.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
"You didn't eat today."
I froze.
Slowly, I looked at him.
"How do you know that?"
His eyes stayed on the report.
"You get quieter."
My stomach did something strange.
"What?"
"When you're hungry."
"Oh."
"And you get irritated faster."
I sat up straighter.
"I am not irritated."
Nathan finally glanced at me.
One look.
That was all.
"You corrected three typos that weren't actually typos."
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because unfortunately he was right.
"I've had a stressful day."
His expression softened slightly.
Not dramatically.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Just enough for me to notice.
"I know."
The words came quietly.
For a moment neither of us looked at the screen.
Neither of us looked away either.
The office around us had become strangely quiet.
Most people had gone home.
The city lights outside were beginning to glow against the darkening sky.
"You did well today."
The comment caught me off guard.
"What?"
"During the presentation."
I laughed once.
"That's generous."
"It's accurate."
"I literally messed up four minutes in."
"You corrected it."
"You corrected it."
Nathan was quiet for a second.
Then—
"I made sure the meeting stayed focused."
The answer should have sounded professional.
Instead it sounded careful.
Like he was choosing his words.
I looked down at my hands.
"You noticed."
"I notice most things."
A pause.
Then—
"Especially with you."
The words landed harder than they should have.
Far harder.
For a second I couldn't think of anything to say.
Which almost never happened to me.
Nathan looked away first.
Back to the report.
Back to work.
Like he hadn't just completely disrupted my ability to think.
The rest of the report was finished not long after that.
But the conversation stayed with me all the way home.
----
By the time I finally got home, all I wanted was a shower and sleep.
Instead, I got Jay.
"You're smiling."
I stopped halfway to the room.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm literally not."
Jay pointed dramatically at my face.
"Look at her," he called toward the tiny kitchen. "She has the Nathan smile."
"Please stop saying things."
"I knew it!" He slapped the counter. "She didn't even deny the Nathan part."
"Oh my God."
"I should start charging him."
"For what?"
"For emotional damages."
I stared at my younger brother.
"That doesn't even make sense."
I walked toward the room.
Jay followed.
Naturally.
"You are late miss "
"There was a lot to do."
"Did he stay late with you?"
I froze.
For exactly one second.
One second too long.
Jay's eyes widened.
Then widened some more.
"Oh."
"No."
"Ohhhh."
"Stop."
"You like him."
"I don't."
"You totally do."
"I don't."
"You looked away."
"Because you're irritating."
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.
Jay caught it.
Unfortunately.
"I can't wait to tell Chloe."
"You tell Chloe and I will delete every game on your phone."
His hand immediately went to his chest.
"That's actually evil."
"Good."
"I raised you better than this."
"You're my younger brother."
"Still disappointed."
I shut the door in his face.
His voice carried through it anyway.
"Very evil, Mrs. Vale!"
"GO AWAY!"
A few minutes later, the apartment finally became quiet.
Jay had apparently decided survival was important.
I changed into pajamas and climbed into bed.
The room was dark.
The city lights glowed softly beyond the window.
For the first time all day, everything felt still.
Then my phone lit up.
Nathan.
His call came at 12:47.
Exactly.
Like always.
I smiled despite myself when I saw his name.
Which was probably another thing I shouldn't be analyzing.
"Hey."
His voice was lower than usual.
Sleepier.
Softer.
"You went home eventually."
"Eventually."
"Good."
I curled deeper into my blankets.
The apartment was quiet.
Jay had finally gone to sleep , lying on his mattress besides mine.
The city outside my window had settled into that late-night stillness I was starting to associate with these calls.
For a while we talked about nothing important.
The day.
Work.
Random things.
The kind of conversation that somehow never felt pointless when it was with him.
Eventually I found myself staring at the ceiling.
Thinking about the office.
Thinking about the presentation.
Thinking about the way he'd looked at me earlier.
"You didn't have to stay."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Nathan was quiet for a second.
"Stay where?"
"At the office."
Another pause.
Then—
"I wanted to."
My heart did something irritating.
I ignored it.
Or tried to.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.
Just thoughtful.
The kind that sometimes happened between us.
Like neither of us felt the need to fill every second.
"Today was a lot."
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without explanation.
Just certainty.
And somehow that made something inside me loosen.
Because he did know.
He'd been there for all of it.
The panic.
The mistake.
The stress.
The embarrassment.
All of it.
I swallowed.
Then spoke before I could overthink it.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
The word came so naturally that it almost hurt.
I stared into the darkness.
Trying to find a safer sentence.
A less honest sentence.
Unfortunately, the truth got there first.
"Sometimes I think you understand me better than people who have known me my whole life."
The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could grab them back.
Not because they weren't true.
Because they were.
That was the problem.
Silence.
Complete silence.
I frowned slightly.
"Nathan?"
Nothing.
The call was still connected.
I checked.
Still connected.
But he wasn't speaking.
Wasn't saying anything.
The silence stretched.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
My heartbeat started picking up.
"Nathan?"
Still nothing.
The silence stayed there between us.
Heavy.
Unbroken.
Long enough to make me genuinely nervous.
- Writer
