Page 19

I’ve been sitting at my computer for exactly five hours. I never leave for lunch, so that part of it isn’t abnormal for me. I usually pack a lunch when I’m packing Jamie’s lunch. The difference is I usually have some kind of salad or wrap, or maybe dinner leftovers. Jamie lives off Uncrustables, spicy Cheetos, and apple juice. I know it’s not exactly the lunch of champions, but anyone raising a four-year-old, particularly by themselves, knows you have to choose your battles. I wave a white flag at spicy Cheetos. Not every mom with money builds bento boxes.

I haven’t touched my turkey wrap. I also haven’t gotten much work done either. Honestly, I can’t focus on anything since that meeting when I saw him again. How is it that he actually got better-looking with age? He’s gotta be almost fifty and has more silver in his hair now, but he’s just as delicious as before. Not only that, but seeing him in cranky boss mode was kind of hot.

Except that he’s here to ruin our lives and run my father out of business. I just need to keep that at the forefront of my mind and not his jawline or those abs I could see through his fitted button-down. I’m pretty sure that man could wear any shirt and it would look fitted.

“Because the new boss man called for a staff meeting,” she says.

“Another one?” I ask. “Why?”

“Beats me,” she shrugs. “But that’s what he wants.”

I am shaking my head at the thought of having to mentally prepare to see him again, and on such short notice. Dylan slips inside my office door and closes it behind her.

“So, is it really him?” she asks. Again, Dylan is the only person who knows, well, everything. She’s the only one who knows anything at all. “I heard through Charlie that the new head boss is Marcus Ashford…”

I let out a wobbly sigh and take my glasses off so I can press my palms to my face like Edvard Munch’s The Scream painting.

“Oh my God, it is,” she says, and while she sounds shocked, she’s smiling. Dylan thrives on gossip and drama. “The boss is your baby daddy! This is wild!”

“Thanks for making me feel better,” I say.

“Do you think he knows?” she asks.

“Knows what?” I ask.

We are alone, but Dylan mouths the question without sound. “That Jamie is his son…”

“Jamie is not his son because Jamie’s father is a man I met at a coffee shop named Matteo–”

“That’s the story you tell everyone else. You don’t have to pretend with me,” she says.

“Yes, I do,” I argue. “I have to pretend all the time because if anyone finds out–”

“That you fucked a billionaire in a glass Ferris wheel gondola and you’re raising his son by yourself now?” she asks, and I glare at her.

“This is a nightmare,” I tell her.

“Is it, though?” she asks. “I mean…yes. I can see how you might feel that way. But what’s the worst that could happen? He obviously wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have the hots for you. And if you have a pulse and a vagina, which I’m pretty sure you do, I think you still have the hots for him because hello daddy…”

“Dylan!” I snap.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Because I feel like you’re making this worse.”

“Okay, but seriously,” she says. “Would it be such a bad thing if he knew that Jamie is his?”

I bite my lip, thinking about that. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop, honestly, but I also come back to the same conclusion. “It’s messy,” I say. “Because I don’t know how he would feel about it. My family doesn’t even know. Nobody knows. I’ve even lied to my kid about it. I can’t take any chances, you know?” I say, and my throat suddenly feels tight, and I swallow hard.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “So we'll keep it a secret.”

“To the grave?” I ask, holding out my pinky.

“To the grave,” she says, linking her pinky with mine. “Or until Marcus looks at Jamie and realizes that he looks exactly like him,” she adds. Leave it to Dylan to ruin the moment. She calls it being honest. I call it annoying.

After I gather myself, I make my way down the hallway towards the boardroom, texting Brittany as I walk. I need to find out if she can take Jamie to an event at the library he’s been asking about. Lucky for me, she has nothing else going on and says yes. I need to give that woman a raise.

I take a deep breath and walk into the room, hoping I can find a chair at the table that is towards the back or off to the side. I’d like to be somewhere where I’m hidden by people; that way he’d have to make a physical effort to make eye contact with me. But as soon as I step inside the door, I freeze. Because Marcus is sitting at the table alone and he’s making direct eye contact with me. Only me. In fact, we are the only two people in the room.