Paige

PAIGE

Four years later

There's no time this morning. My hair is still wet, as I sling it into a low bun. It won't dry until the end of the day like this, but at least I'll look like a boss. Sighing, I blink into some mascara and call it good. No time to cover up the bags under my eyes.

I'm buttoning up my blouse on the way out of the bathroom to find Paxton, my three-year-old, in pajamas and throwing crayons at my roommate and best friend, Jackie. He ducks the brightly-colored projectiles easily and laughs as I plant my hands on my hips.

"Little Mister, it is too early in the morning to wage war on Jackie. Go change your pull-up, so we can get you dressed."

Paxton throws the crayons in his hand as I stomp my foot. We glare at each other for a moment, and I exaggerate my frustration until he breaks. The corner of his mouth lifts. Then, I lunge for him, tickling his sides and under his arms until he squeals, "No, Momma. No tickles."

I grab him and swing him into our room. "Pull-up. Now."

He giggles but does as I ask. It doesn't take too long to corral him into clothes for the day: his Wreck-it Ralph shirt and matching pants. "Go show, Jackie."

Paxton runs into the living room as I grab my suit jacket. Jackie has Paxton lifted in the air, jostling him like he's an airplane hitting some turbulence. My heart gives a happy lurch at the smile on my boy's face. He's my pride and joy, even as hard as it's been raising him on my own—all while going to college—he's worth every sleepless night and B that I earned. Worth every date and party I missed. I have a new appreciation for how Dad raised me and my older sister alone for the last fifteen years.

But now, it's time for me to earn my own way, sans the continued support from my father. More than a mere allowance while I finished my degree.

Although, it still feels like cheating since he got me this job. A job that I start today as a marketing manager at a local hospitality chain. He didn't offer me much detail other than it would suit me and that he convinced my new bosses to give me the position.

It's not the way I wanted to get the job, but let's be real, the current job market is shit, and I'd be stupid to not take such a high-paying job with this kind of responsibility as a recent grad. I wouldn't get this type of offer anywhere else.

In fact, I'd have to work years to get to a management position, even with my credentials and the two summer internships that I'd rocked.

Jackie grins at me over his shoulder. "Ready for your first day?"

I take in a big breath and let it out shakily. "I think so."

"You'll knock their socks off, don't you worry about it." He jiggles Paxton before letting him down.

My son throws himself into his toy chest, systematically taking out every toy, one at a time, to hand it over to Jackie. My best friend thanks him for every last one before setting it on the couch cushion beside him. Paxton has only recently learned to put them back. Mostly.

"I think I want them to keep their socks on, really. I just don't want to disappoint whoever owed Dad the favor."

By the door, I slip on my sensible kitten heels that go with every outfit I could possibly wear to work and smooth down my jacket.

"How do I look?"

"Pretty, Momma!" Paxton grins. I will never get tired of him looking at me like I'm the center of his universe. He's certainly the center of mine.

"Thank you, Baby."

"You look like a serious boss lady. Although, if you'd let me pick out your wardrobe, you'd also be fit for walking down the runway, but I suppose we can't all look fabulous all the time." Jackie winks and accepts another toy from Paxton.

"Well, it's true. I can't compete with your fabulous sense of fashion, so I guess I'm stuck with the boring, old corporate look."

Jackie waves a hand at me. "Pssh. I will talk you into letting me zhuzh you up, and I promise, you will turn every head in that office building."

I sigh. "I don't need to turn heads. I need to be taken seriously."

At twenty-two, I had to really know what I was doing to lead people. I shake the doubts out of my head, grab my coat, and check the time on my phone.

"Okay." I clap my hands and sink down to Paxton's level. "Time for Mommy to leave. Come give me a kiss and wish me luck at work."

My son throws his little body at me, wrapping me tightly in those small arms. He's gotten used to being watched by Jackie until my father comes to get him. Or the babysitter, Roxy, who's my age and a lot more fun than I am. Or so he tells me every time she leaves.

The poor guy has had a working mom his entire life.

He plants a solid kiss on my cheek before smashing his hands into them. "Luck, Momma."

"You're so sweet." I rustle his hair and plant kisses all over his face until he runs back to the couch squealing. "Be good. Both of you."

Jackie gasps in mock offense and comes to give me my own special farewell. We knock our elbows together, tap and shake hands in a complicated and silly move we've done since the first week of college after hitting it off immediately. He pulls me into a solid hug at the end. "Go kill your first day."

"Will do." And I'm out the door, racing down to the train station two blocks down. The weather has let up, but snow still piles high on either side of the sidewalk. Car tires slush, keeping me away from the edge and a potential disaster.

The walk isn't long, but I catch my favorite glimpses of the neighborhood: The red brick houses with white railing decks and high shrubbery. The fountain of the park catty corner to the train entrance. The cafe I'll soon be passing every morning on my walk and the tempting scents of freshly baked bread as it wafts out the door.

And besides, everything is decorated in twinkling lights and garlands for the holiday season. The ride is a bustle of activity, with anxiety and excitement swirling in my stomach—it makes me glad that I didn't eat breakfast this morning.As I enter the brick building to a massive foyer, I'm in awe. Everything about it is grand, white and silver with pops of black and redwood.

It's almost overwhelming, but I try to slow myself down and take in some of the details. Clean lines, a wrought-iron sculpture by the elevators, sparse seating grouped around the open floor plan, how the large windows highlight the room with warmth from the sun.

I can almost picture myself meeting clients on those cushions, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The elevator is near bursting when I squeeze into it and press the top floor. Riding up is slow, stopping at every level as the car eventually empties out. Finally at the sixteenth floor, I step out into a modern office.

A secretary sits at a long, black-stained wooden desk, and she smiles at me. "Who are you looking for, hon?"

"I'm here for the new marketing manager position with Rockwell International. I'm?—"

" Monroe. You're in the right place. Just give me a minute, and I'll call back to the boss. He'll want to show you to your new office himself."

I nod, startled a little by how efficient she is. Standing with my briefcase collapsed in front of me, I try not to fidget. Sweat gathers under my arms and at the back of my neck.

After a few minutes, a blonde bombshell of a woman saunters toward me. She has a big smile that showcases straight, white teeth. I'd say she wants to take a bite out of me, but the kindness reaches her eyes as she holds out her hand to me.

"Hi. I'm Sabrina. You must be . I'm here to show you the way back."

I take her hand in a quick shake and follow as she waves me forward through a set of glass doors and into a buzzing collection of offices.

I love every bit of it. Do I really get to work in a place this upscale and beautiful every day?

I cannot wait to see if my office looks anything like what I've seen so far. And my God… I get an office. A space to myself. I haven't had one of those in four years.

Tamping down a new wave of nerves, I weave with Sabrina through desks and people settling in for the day to the office in the back corner. The dark wooden door is halfway open when Sabrina knocks on it. "Mr. Walker, I have your new marketing manager here."

"Show her in and close the door please." That voice vibrates through my guts, twisting them painfully as I step past the barrier.

A head of light brown hair, streaked through with gray, is bent over a stack of papers, scribbling his signature across the bottom. And I know that strong jaw, the strength of those wide shoulders, the gentleness of those big hands before he shows me his face.

He catches me with those all-too-bright blue eyes.

And my traitorous heart stops.

Henry is my new boss.