“Hey, don’t rush off,” he says. “We need to talk. I heard a rumor that a certain mom I know is back on the market.”
I pull away, a small, stumbling step. “Sorry, I’m late for work.”
He moves toward me. “I’ll call you, yeah?”
Heads are turning. The other moms’ eyes go sharp, and I can imagine exactly what they’re thinking: that I’m single and desperate and making a play for someone else’s spouse. Now that I’m a divorcee, running around in this utterly seductive knee-length skirt and low heels, everyone will say I was encouraging him.
Did you see Lucie hitting on Tom, with her kids right there? And the outfit—who wears heels to drop-off?
“Things are pretty hectic,” I call over my shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
Caleb is only two cars back now, for better or worse. I swing the door open and slide in before Tom catches up. “Sorry,” I say breathlessly.
His jaw flexes as he steers past the parked cars and onto the road. “Who was that guy?”
I raise a shoulder. “One of the dads in the twins’ class.”
“One of the dads who’s hitting on you, you mean.”
“He hits on everyone,” I say, opening up my notes for the meeting. “So, I think today if you could thank everyone for their hard work, it would go a long way. You intimidate people.”
Caleb doesn’t appear to have even heard me. “That guy? Tell him to fuck off the next time he does it.”
I raise a brow. I’m not sure why he’s so fixated on Tom, of all people. Dealing with the Toms of the world is just a part of being female. Tom can do what he’s always done—make comments, let his hand brush my ass ‘accidentally,’ hug me at parties for a little too long, and sidle up to me during every school event—but if I say a single word, I’ll be seen as dramatic and attention-seeking.
“It really wasn’t a big deal.”
“He can’t go around grabbing you like that,” Caleb insists. “If you punched him once, like a square hit right in the face, I bet he’d never do it again. But remember not to tuck your thumb. Chicks always make a fist the wrong way. And speaking of people who need a fist to the face, you need to call your lawyer about the car. This is complete bullshit.”
My laugh is short and miserable. “He’s not going to do anything. He pawned me off on some junior associate once he heard that Jeremy’s uncle is the DA, and she’s the worst.” During my one and only phone call with Sharon, she told me that she and Jeremy’s attorney had found some apartments I could move into because Jeremy thought I was too far from the school. I’m not sure whose interest she’s trying to serve, but it doesn’t seem to be mine.
“Then you need a new attorney.”
I know. I know. I need a new everything. Mostly I need a new way to get through life because every path I take winds up making things worse. I force a smile, and once again, I’m trying not to cry. “Let me get through today, all right?”
BY THE TIME we arrive at work, the instructions I sent Caleb have been executed perfectly. The food is set out and there’s a buzz of excitement in the air. It’s bizarre how much people love free food.
Caleb enters through the side door just before nine, frowning, his brow furrowed as he searches the room—until his gaze falls on me. And then his eyes soften and he smiles. I smile back.
I wish…I wish…
I wish for so many things.
Mark gets up and makes a small presentation about productivity, and then someone else discusses the software that’s about to be launched.
When it’s finally Caleb’s turn to speak, I can’t look away. He stands there, imposing and beautiful in a suit that does nothing to hide the sheer power of him—the size of his shoulders, his chest, his broad hands. I’m not the only female here watching him with something that exceeds professional interest.
Kayleigh, the most obvious of them.
He thanks us for our hard work and our commitment to the company, just like I suggested. He discusses the plans for the team-building retreats I’m organizing and reminds everyone there’s only a month left to get miles in for the walking program.
“And let’s have a round of applause for Lucie Monroe,” he says at the end, “for making all this happen.”
Our eyes meet, and I feel no different than I did as a small child, certain he was the one I was meant for.
“Pretty impressive, Lucie,” Wyatt says, slinging an arm around my shoulders.