Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Because it’s vastly bigger than me and the girl whose soul I rocked years ago.
I need to find out what this means for our company’s crown jewel going forward.
The Cardinal is too big to fail, and I’ll be damned if I let a clash of personalities bring it down.
3
ROLL THE DICE (SALEM)
My one-night stand is my boss.
The biggest life-scorching mistake I’ve ever made is my boss.
The father of my child is my boss.
Inwardly, I’m screaming, and I can’t show it.
Because the handsome stranger who turned my life upside down without ever knowing it is my flipping cockamamie boss, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
This is the sort of Twilight Zone coincidence that’s only supposed to happen in movies and stay there.
But this is real life and I’m hilariously screwed. I’m too paralyzed to even laugh.
I linger on the rooftop after he leaves, still holding the dirty towel in my hands like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.
It’s definitely ruined, just like he said.
Just like this shiny new job after a morning that’s been one long cataclysm after the next. Except now they all pale in comparison to finding out Grumpybutt is my unknown baby daddy.
“Mommy? Is everything okay?” Arlo asks, his eyes wide.
It’s so not okay.
I’m pretty sure this day is the textbook definition of anti-okay.
He stares at me with those big blue eyes, just like Patton Rory’s. Hopefully, that’s something he didn’t notice.
But I need to sit down before I throw up.
Wouldn’t that be the rancid cherry on top of my crap-luck sundae? Arlo spills hot chocolate all over Patton Rory’s suit, and I hurl all over his precious leather chairs.
“Everything’s fine, baby,” I whisper, bending to soak up more cocoa on the floor.
“Mr. Grumpybutt was mad.”
Yes, he was mad.
And oh, does the Grumpybutt nickname fit him too well. Odd because that’s not the man I remember.
Even through the casino haze of laughter and cocktails, I remember having fun. He was relaxed, kind, and actually decent to be around for a random evening of reckless gambling and sex with life-altering consequences.
But we were both younger and less burdened then.
Maybe grinding away at business for years ruins a person’s sense of humor. I know it’s all but obliterated mine.
“I think he’s just busy, Arlo. Also, you did spill your drink all over him.” I take his hand, leading him to the elevator. “Remember, you can’t call him Mr. Grumpybutt anymore.”
“But he is grumpy.”
Sigh.
“Even if he is, we’re polite to people, okay? Be nice.”
“Nice, yeah. Or you don’t say anything at all.” He recites it from memory.
It’s a lesson I don’t recall teaching him, but he’s somehow internalized it, which is fine by me.
“That’s right, big guy. Good job.” I lead him back to the meeting room and hand him a pen and more paper. Next time—if our lovely babysitter ducks out on us again—I’m bringing his tablet.
Screw the recommended screen time.
When I’m at work, I need to focus, and he needs something to do for entertainment besides drawing unflattering pictures of my boss.
The Grumpybutt portrait is still on the table, right where we left it.
Wincing, I give it a quick glance as I fish my laptop out of my bag. Today was supposed to be an introduction, but after this morning, I need to make a good impression.
Or, you know, try to paper over this disaster.
Ideally, without letting him know he’s been a daily factor in my life for half a decade.
This string of horrendous luck has to end sometime, doesn’t it?
Maybe I’m due for some good.
Maybe he’ll come into work tomorrow and see what a fab job I’ve done and forget about today.
I am, apparently, a girl who daydreams miracles.
While Arlo scribbles—drawing more pictures of Patton Rory breathing fire, no doubt—I look over the operating fund. Even our quick, messy tour showed me this place specializes in personal touches.
The Cardinal aims to make people feel special, just like the smaller properties owned by Higher Ends.
With that in mind, I check the small part of our funds that hasn’t been allocated to upkeep. There’s just enough in the flex budget to add a few little odds and ends.
Complimentary beer, wine, and nonalcoholic beverages.
Fresh flowers in every room sourced from local florists.
In my experience, nothing makes people feel valued like flowers. Or maybe that’s just because I never get them unless Mrs. Gabbard chips in a few bucks to put Arlo up to it for Mother’s Day.
“Mommy?” Arlo asks. “When’s lunch? I’m hungry.”
“Soon. We’ll find someplace nice,” I say, scanning my order list for other ideas like fine soaps or extra toiletries.
“I want more hot chocolate.”
“Another one?” I frown at the screen.
My son loves chocolate more than life itself, like almost every kid.
“I didn’t get to finish before it spilled!”
“You have a point. We’ll get you some later,” I promise.