If that were the case, why would he want to go from the auburn-haired bombshell with legs for days to me? Talk about reinforcing my feeling of being second choice.
I blow my hair up out of my face. “Well, you know Bailey,” I counter, trying to phrase my next words carefully, “She definitely likes to have her fun.”
Jax laughs at me, patting my back as he walks by, “That was a nice way of putting it,” he says as he starts to make the boys’ school lunches for the next day. “She’s a great girl, works hard, the kids love her … just not a girl I’d want my son to date.”
I murmur an agreement thinking about our beguilingly sweet intern, who is only five years my junior, and her free ways. A part of me has always been jealous of girls like her. Girls who throw caution to the wind in spontaneity and live their life without regrets; kiss random boys recklessly, take spur of the moment road trips, and are always the life of the party. I often worry that one day I’ll look back on my life and feel like I haven’t lived. That I haven’t taken enough chances, sowed my wild oats, or ventured outside my comfort zone.
My life is safe, predictable, controlled, and always in order. I like it that way most of the time. It’s not that I’m not jealous of her because she kissed Donavan first (well maybe a little), but rather that she lives without regrets.
I shake myself out of my thoughts, ones that I have been having more of lately with the anniversary approaching. If anything, I should have learned that life is short and I need to really live it, not stay in my safe corner of it as it passes me by. I pull myself from my thoughts and refocus on my task at hand.
“Boys,” I shout over the cacophony of chaos, “it’s time to come finish your homework.” I hear groans coming from various rooms for I’ve said the dreaded “H” word. Six boys, varying from eight to fifteen years old, sullenly walk toward the table, grumbling as they go.
I look over toward the couch where Zander remains curled into himself, rocking back and forth in rhythmic comfort.
I slowly walk toward him and kneel in front of him. “Zander, do you want to join us? I can read you a book, if you’d like?” I speak softly to him, slowly reaching my hand out, holding it still for him to see my intention, and rest it on his hand that rests on his knee. He continues rocking, but his blue eyes flicker over to hold mine.
I see so many things in the depths of his eyes that shake me to the core. I smile softly at him and squeeze his hand. “We’d love for you to join us.” He remains silent but his eyes are still fused on mine. A small sliver of hope springs within me since he normally looks at me and glances away after a few seconds. “Come on, Zander, take my hand, I won’t let go if you don’t want me to.”
He continues to stare at me for some time, as I remain stock still, a reassuring smile on my face. His tiny hand moves, and he closes his fingers around my hand. He stands slowly, and we move to join the rest of the boys at the table.
CHAPTER 5
I’m dragging big time. I’m in the last hour of my shift at The House, and the long hours of the past couple of days have caught up with me. The boys were a handful today and it seemed that the chaos moved steadily through each child at various parts of the day.
Kellen, my co-counselor, has the boys outside and is playing tag with them. I can hear their laughter and squeals through the open windows.
I’m in the kitchen getting everything together for dinner for the next shift when the house phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Oh, good! You’re still there.” I can sense relief tinged with excitement through the phone.
“Just barely,” I laugh. “I have about fifteen minutes left. What can I do for you, Teddy?”
“I know you’re probably exhausted, but is it possible for you stop by the office on the way home?”
It’s the last thing I want to do as much as I love him. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep until the next day. “Um, okay. Sure. Is something wrong?”
“Just the opposite! I think we found the solution to rest of the funding for the new facilities.” Enthusiasm is evident in his voice. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. We’re just hammering out all of the details right now.”
“Wow! Are you serious?” My hopes start to rise. Even with the charity event and the numerous other donations we have already received, we are still shy of our goal by several million dollars. “I—I will be there as soon as I can, depending on traffic.”
I hang up the phone, excitement bubbling. All my hard work over the past two years to get the approvals, the board’s backing, the plans, the funding—it all might finally come to fruition and become a reality.
I finish with the dinner preparations so all that the next shift has to do is put it in the oven. I grab my purse and overnight bag and start to gather my things. I glance at my cell phone in my purse, and begrudgingly decide to check my email. Maybe I can tackle a few phone calls from them while I am in traffic.
I scan my inbox and notice one I’d received earlier in the day from Donavan. I contemplate just deleting it, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I open it up.
To: Rylee Thomas
From: Ace
Subject: Dexterous Fingers
__________________________
Rylee—
You’ve left me no choice. Your lack of response has left me to take matters into my own hands.
You remember how those felt, don’t you?
—Ace
Arrogant ass. I delete the email. What’s he going to do? I’m even more indifferent to him now that I know about his and Bailey’s tryst in the dressing room. Or at least I am trying to be. Come to think about it, they probably fit each other perfectly. Manwhore and maneater.
I smile at the thought as I finish collecting my things and say goodbye to the troops.
Traffic is unusually light as I drive toward the office. I take this is a sign that good things are going to happen. It’s a beautiful, sunny California day, unusually warm for the ending of January. What I would give to grab a towel, head to the beach and lay there, letting the sun’s warmth rejuvenate me.
In no time at all, I pull into the parking lot of Corporate Cares. I walk quickly up to the building’s lobby, checking my reflection in the mirrored windows. I have on my favorite blue jeans that sit low on my waist and a snug, red V-neck t-shirt. Luckily I had an extra one in my bag because I don’t think Teddy would enjoy my original one that’s now splattered with Ricky’s vomit. I fuss with my hair a moment, pulling the clip from it, letting my curls fall down my back.
After a short elevator ride, where I’m able to touch up my lip-gloss and pinch my cheeks for color, I arrive on the floor of the main office. I walk past my office, nod to several people and exchange pleasantries on my way to Teddy’s receptionist. I note that the shutters on the conference room windows are closed and absently wonder what meeting is taking place in there.
“Hi, Sandy.”
“Hey, Rylee. I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s expecting you.”
I smile. “Thanks.” I walk toward the wall of windows that extends throughout the office and watch the line of cars of people heading home on the freeway. The ants go marching one by one.
“That was quick!” I turn to face my boss, a broad grin on his face. “I can’t wait to catch you up to speed.”
“I can’t wait to hear what’s going on,” I say as I follow him into his office.