Page 116 of From Rivals to I Do

We head to a McDonald’s and order breakfast. There isn’t enough coffee in the world to wake me up after the nightmare flight. We let Charlee run to the

playhouse and get some of her pent-up energy out.

“I’m thrilled you finally decided to come home,” my mom says after Charlee is out of earshot. “I wish it were under better circumstances. But you made the right

choice.”

“I’m glad too,” I say in a somber voice. “I just hope being away from Reece so much won’t be hard on Charlee.”

“It won’t be easy,” she replies. I roll my eyes at her, and she nods her head to reinforce it. “Remember how you acted in high school? I hope for your sake it isn’t

anything like that.”

“At least I had a good ten years to prepare for that.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to see you going through the same things I had to,” my mom says in an exhausted voice. “But seeing you come out of it the way

you have makes me proud. When you first told me about his drinking, I prayed for you every night. I prayed you would make the best decision for Charlee, and

did.” She reaches across the plastic table and squeezes my hand. I might never have left if I hadn’t had her to talk to when everything was bad with Reece. I

can’t express how grateful I am to have her in my life.

“How are you doing with everything?” I ask her after a moment.

Her husband, my stepfather, Greg, passed away a few months ago,

and I know it has been hard on her. Not long after he passed, things started going south with Reece and me, and my mom jumped in to help me figure

everything out.

“I’ll just be happy to have laughter in the house again,” she says with a smile. Tears well in her eyes, and I squeeze her hands tighter.

“We’re happy to be here.”

Charlee comes back up to us with a toy she found in the playhouse, asking if she can keep it. I nod my head and grab it from her so that I can clean it before she

introduces it to the rest of her toys. God only knows who had it before, and she loves putting things in her mouth.

We get back in the car to make the drive to Queens. The last time I visited the city was for Greg’s funeral, but Charlee has never been to Queens. I point out

various places from my childhood memories while we drive.

My phone buzzes, and I quickly turn the radio off and ask everyone in the car to be quiet while I take it. The call is from a job recruiting agency. I sent my resume

a few days ago.

“Rayne Stevens,” I answer in my friendliest voice.

“Hi, Mrs. Stevens, this is Georgia from Atlantic Staffing Solutions. I’m calling because we have your resume and a job just crossed my desk that I think you

would be perfect for,” the recruiter says in one long breath.

“Thank you for considering me. Might I ask what the opportunity is?”

“I am not allowed to say who it’s for, but you would be a personal assistant. Job duties would be things like managing your employer’s schedules, keeping track

of meetings and documents, and booking travel arrangements. All things I see you’ve done in the past when you worked with Leia Halloway,” she notes.

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