Page 34 of The Perfect Mistake

I joined them for a school drop-off this morning, at least. Maybe that counts for something. Half a point on the scoreboard.

During the short car ride to school, Willa once again asked me for a pet, tried to get out of her piano practice that afternoon, and insisted we go to Disneyland. And considering she got a no, no, and a maybe, the tally on my scoreboard is probably wiped clean.

“Financially speaking,” Tate says, “the next round of negotiations needs to include larger cost-saving efforts on their part. It won’t make sense for us if it doesn’t.”

True.

Lauren sighs. “We’re buying the company and expanding into the Midwest because of the profitability margins. They’re high enough as is; if we pressure them too hard, they might pull out of the deal, and we lose it altogether.”

Also true.

I rub my temples. I should be sharper than I am, but my patience is as thin as Sam’s was this morning in traffic. Only my response can’t be to start singing the tune to my favorite cartoon at the top of my lungs.

It’s been three days since Connie and Gabriel’s wedding party. Three days since Isabel cried, since we sat on the couch, since I was irrationally jealous and also angry at myself all at once. The men at that party wasted no time in introducing themselves to her. And why wouldn’t they? She’d been… beautiful is too simple a word for how she looked. Even I can admit that, against my better judgment.

Long black hair, a black dress that hugged her slender form, and that preternatural grace she’s always moved with. It had never struck me as clearly as it did then, seeing her in evening wear and makeup highlighting her features.

She looks Mediterranean. I think her parents are from Spain, but it’s only a guess, because I can’t remember what Connie’s told me about Isabel. I should have asked more while I had the chance.

I could just ask Isabel now. But doing that risks opening a door to possibilities I should keep shut. Hadn’t she told me men come on to her all the time? Hadn’t I seen the very same thing happen not once, but twice?

Asking her to dance to get her away from Gabriel’s friend had been petty. I’d known it and had done it anyway. But she didn’t have to feel so good in my arms. I didn’t expect that. Not on the dance floor, and not out on the terrace when the tears streamed down her cheeks and made her brown eyes glossy.

I've thought about her too much in the past few days. It's like a switch has been flipped, and my curiosity feels dangerous. I want to know more about her, and that's a bad idea if I've ever heard one.

I’d ended that night by being angry at myself for wanting her and fuming over not being able to suppress it. I always have a handle on myself. It’s the one factor in life I can control, and I'd be damned if I let it slip around her. She is my employee. I might eat pizza with her, or comfort her when she cries, but I'll never ask her to dance again.

I’m not going to be one of the creeps who make her feel uncomfortable.

But burning beneath the resolve is the guilt. The condemning, nauseating, unrelenting guilt. I haven’t wanted a woman in this way since my wife died. At first, the possibility had been remote, the odds slim. An issue to deal with in the future. But now that “future” is here, and my attraction is inappropriate in about fifteen different ways.

“Mr. Connovan,” Lauren asks.

I slide my gaze over to hers. Fuck. I need to be here and I need to be attentive.

“Yes,” I say.

“Should we postpone the next round of negotiations until we have a clearer picture of their financials?”

“No. I want this wrapped up as soon as possible. Tate, I appreciate your attention to detail with regard to the cost-saving measures, but if we don’t buy this company, someone else will. And fast. I want the negotiations to continue this week. I want your team to keep pressuring them on financials, and, Lauren, I want you to push ahead with an aggressive offer. Make it clear that it’s time-sensitive.”

Both sides look unsatisfied. Well, tough luck. Compromise sucks. But I expect nothing but perfection from this team. I get up from the table and grab my phone and laptop. “Meeting adjourned.”

The group breaks apart. They won’t grumble in front of me, but the atmosphere in the room is thick with displeasure. I let it roll off my back and head to the elevators. I might not make dinner, but I’ll be damn sure to make bedtime.

Mac is waiting for me in the car when I walk out of Contron. There are two cups of coffee in the center console, and it smells great in the car. The scent helps clear my head.

I grab one of them. “Katja?”

He nods and pulls the car out into traffic. “She suspected you would need something.”

She suspected right. I glance at the other travel mug. He got one too, did he? It doesn’t surprise me. They’ve known each other for years. Mac’s been with me for almost as long as Katja, and both were by my side during the hard times after Victoria’s death.

They’d been the scaffolding that held me up. I know that, and I make sure it’s reflected in their Christmas bonuses.

When I make it home, it's not to the quiet apartment I’m expecting. Once the kids had dinner, it's usually their time to calm down before bed. They often watch TV in their pajamas.

Instead, I arrive home to chaos.

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