Fortunately, the halls are empty this late. I rush back to the aftercare room, where Henry is waiting for me, sitting at a table alone. My heart pinches hard at the sight. He never plays with anyone but Sophie, and I’ve been hoping it would change, but they’ve nearly got an entire year of kindergarten behind them and it hasn’t. One day, Sophie will move on—to new friends and college and a career. Who will Henry have then?
Both twins run when they see me but it’s Sophie, happily occupied at the play kitchen only a moment ago, who’s outraged. “Where were you?” she demands. Like my mother, she’s never one to let the opportunity to complain pass quietly, but in her, it’s a good thing. No one pushes my mother around, and no one will ever push Sophie an inch either.
I offer an awkward smile to the teacher as I shepherd them out. “I had to work, sweetie. I told you.”
“I-D-L-T,” she announces.
It’s a game I made up last year, to help the twins learn the sounds letters make. ILY is I love you. TFB is time for bed. I created it mostly for Henry, who doesn’t have Sophie’s ease with words nor her love of stories, but it’s Sophie who uses it, mostly to express her disapproval. Today’s is easy to figure out because I hear some version of it quite a bit.
“I didn’t like this?” I guess.
“I didn’t,” she says. “I still don’t.”
If today had gone better, I’d probably laugh. But I just don’t have the capacity for laughter at present.
I wanted to give my children everything my mother did not give me. Now I’m worried I’ll be giving them even less.
THE PRESENTATION CONSUMED MOST of my evening and I’ve only gotten two hours of sleep when it’s time to wake the twins the next morning. I felt sorry for Caleb when I saw his truck pull up late last night—I assume, based on his stress level, he was just getting home from work—but I feel sorrier for myself. When Sophie cries about how unfair it is that we have to get up so early, I want to agree.
I get through the school drop-off then rush past scowling Kayleigh the receptionist and work frantically until it’s time to go to the conference room.
When I arrive, it’s Caleb I notice first, sitting at the end of the table like a king. A lovely king, his tie askew, jaw still in need of a shave, offering me a forced, reluctant smile.
No, not a lovely king. A married one who wants to fire me and who may be furious in a minute.
And yet, even now, I can’t shake this lingering feeling from childhood, this certainty that he’s mine. I’d better figure out how to shake it soon.
“Welcome, Lucie,” Mark says, gesturing to a guy my age and an older female. “You’ve met Caleb, of course. Debbie is the head of HR and Hunter is our VP of sales. Our board members will be watching your presentation online, so we’re ready whenever you are.”
I take a deep breath as I move to the front of the room, doing my best to ignore the random sounds coming from the video attendees I can’t see. Sweat trickles down my back as they watch me fumble, trying to get my laptop to connect. I entered every beauty pageant that offered scholarship money as a teen, so parading in front of three people should be no big deal, but my dress feels too tight, my heels too high, and I’ve only used a smart board once in my life. The odds of this going well are diminishing by the second.
“It’s not…” I mumble, flushing, clicking the connect button again and again.
Hunter walks over to help, thank God.
“Ah,” he says after a second. “Not your fault. The conference room is on a different network and this laptop they gave you is ancient. Here—”
With two clicks of the mouse, my presentation goes up on the board and I beam at him like he’s a nurse handing me my newborns for the first time. “Thanks.”
“Can we get going?” Caleb asks. “We have a whole lot to discuss today.”
I stare at him. What the hell happened to that infinitely sweet boy who was so kind to me as a kid, so patient? Because there’s no sign of him now.
“My idea is a walking challenge,” I begin, and Caleb’s eyes narrow. “Employees would divide into teams and compete to get the most miles. It’s healthy, obviously, but it would also foster some fun, friendly competition between departments.”
A disembodied voice—one of the board members, I assume—says, “What a fabulous idea.”
Caleb clearly does not agree. “I don’t understand why anyone would choose to participate in this,” he says, his eyes dark.