Marrying My Ex's Boss novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Placeholder
Colin takes his award, thanks his new girlfriend into the mic and dumps Claire in front of 400 coworkers; she crosses the hall, grabs a stranger at the bar as her fiance, and asks Colin for the $4,100 he owes her, until the MC announces the new CEO and the stranger does not let go of her hand.
Colin won the Rising Star award at 8:40 on a Friday night, and he used it to dump me.
I was standing in the third row of four hundred Ironbridge employees with a plastic cup of white wine.
I had helped him write the speech three weeks ago, at my kitchen table, while he ate my leftovers.
He took the microphone from the host and gave the room his big laugh.
"First, I want to thank the person who has really believed in me this year."
Everybody turned to look at me.
I smiled, because I thought he meant me.
"Tatum," he said. "Come up here, babe."
Tatum Dettwiler walked out of the crowd in a pink blazer and gold ear cuffs.
She had been my roommate at Penn State and my best friend for nine years.
She did not look at me once.
Colin put his arm around her waist.
"And Claire," he said, finding me in the crowd. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."
The hall went so quiet that I heard the ice machine behind the bar.
"We had a good run," he said. "But let's be honest, you were always a placeholder."
Somebody in finance made a small sound.
Eighty phones came up.
I felt my face go hot, then cold, then very clear.
I had known for six days.
I had found the texts in his gym bag while I was looking for his charger.
I had planned to tell him on Sunday, quietly, in my own kitchen, with the door closed.
He had decided that was too private for him.
I put my cup down on a stranger's table.
I did not cry, and I did not run for the restroom, which I knew was what everybody was waiting for.
I walked the length of the hall instead.
The floor was glossy black, and my sneakers squeaked on it.
Colin watched me come with his head tilted, pleased.
"Claire, don't make this weird," he said into the mic.
I walked past him.
Past Tatum, and past the stage, and past the Vice President of Finance, who looked down into his drink.
At the far end of the room a long bar ran along the glass wall, with the whole of Pittsburgh lit up behind it.
One man stood at the very end of the bar, alone, with a glass of club soda.
He was tall and wide and wore a plain charcoal suit with no tie.
His hair was dark blond and pushed back, and his nose had been broken at least twice.
He had been watching me since I came in, and he did not look away now.
I had never seen him before in my life.
I took hold of his lapel with my whole fist.
"I'm so sorry I'm late," I said, loud enough for the room. "Traffic on the Parkway was a nightmare."
His eyebrows went up a quarter inch.
Behind me, the whole hall went still again.
"This is my fiance," I said, and turned around with his lapel still in my hand.
"Your fiance," Colin said. He laughed, but it was too high. "Since when?"
"Since Tuesday," I said.
"Wednesday," the stranger said.
His voice was low, dry and completely calm.
He set the club soda down on the bar without hurrying.
"Tuesday was the first time she said it out loud," he said. "Wednesday I said yes."
Somebody near the front actually gasped.
"Cute," Colin said. "What's his name, Claire?"
I opened my mouth, and I did not have one.
The man beside me slid his hand over my fist on his lapel and folded my fingers into his.
His palm was warm and rough, and it covered my whole hand.
"Sweetheart," he said, "he knows my name. He's been emailing me for three weeks."
That did something to Colin's face.
I did not understand it yet, and I did not have time to.
"One more thing," I said to Colin, over the heads of four hundred people. "You owe me four thousand one hundred dollars."
"Claire."
"Rent, the transmission, and that gym membership you called an investment. I have the receipts."
A man at the nearest table started to clap.
It lasted about two seconds before somebody stopped him.
Colin's jaw had gone tight.
Tatum's hand had left his waist.
Up on the stage, the host leaned toward the microphone.
He looked at a card in his hand, and then straight at the end of the bar.
"Well," he said. "Since everyone's here, this is the perfect moment."
"Our new CEO flew in from Rotterdam this week, and he wanted to say hello."
I heard a chair scrape somewhere.
"Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Truman Shaw."
The man beside me looked down at me, grey-blue eyes, very steady.
He did not let go of my hand.
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