Page 50 of Forgotten Romance

“Ah, I need to take this,” I tell Mom and Mack before stepping into the front bedroom. “Hey, Eric, what’s up?”

“Davey, how are you? How’s the family?”

Fucking torture. Not that I can say that. “Everyone’s good. I gave them a nice surprise by being home so early.”

He chuckles. “I bet you did. This job has put a strain on you all, I know that, but the kids must love having Daddy home.”

“They do. I don’t think Van has slept a full night in his bed since I’ve been here.” It slices my heart the way he climbs into my bed and wriggles after me in his sleep all night.

“Blink and you’ll miss it age, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Eric takes a deep breath, immediately pinging my suspicions. “Look, I love that you’re getting that time with them. You’ve worked hard, and you deserve it.”

“But …”

“Something’s come up.”

He doesn’t have to say more than that for my gut to drop through my ass. “What is it?”

“Don’t worry, you get the holidays with your family. I’d never get in the way of that.”

“Then …”

“We’ve gotten a new contract. Huge client. Near unlimited budget.” His tone turns regretful. “I need you on this one, and it’s a tight turnaround. Issues with their last PR company.”

My mouth has dried up. “When?”

“January second.”

I can’t speak. That’s over a month earlier than I was supposed to be leaving again. They’d promised me I could get my work done from home, given me hope that I’d be able to leverage more of that opportunity in the future. Hopefully do a good enough job to make it a permanent arrangement.

I awkwardly clear my throat. “You gave me twelve weeks here.”

“I know. And I hate that I’m even asking, but we’re desperate.”

“Why can’t someone else do it?” My voice starts to rise, and I smother it again. “Anyone on my team. Surely there’s someone who can take this on. Come on, Eric, that only gives me three more weeks here.” The rapid beating of my heart is sending my panic on edge. He can’t do this—well, he can, but surely he won’t. I’ve only just mentally adjusted to being back home and having a chance to be present for my family for the first time in … well, ever.

“The only other person I would have trusted with this is out of the country. You’re the only choice. Once we get something signed off on, you can step back again. Maybe we can look at another monthlong stint in the?—”

“I get it.” I don’t mean to snap, but fuck.

“Davey …”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I’ll change my plans.”

“As soon as it’s done, we’ll talk. I think it goes without saying that you’ve got a big bonus coming your way. You’re irreplaceable. Your loyalty to the company is second to none.”

That compliment, more than anything, makes me stupidly want to cry. And not in a good way. My loyalty to the company is great and all, but not when I don’t give my family the same dedication. I hang up the phone, wishing I’d never answered. Maybe then I could have put off this conversation and kept playing perfect family.

Because that’s all I’m doing. Playing.

I sink down into a crouch, phone clunking to the ground, and press my hands to my eyes. This is all part of the job. I know that. As marketing director, sometimes I have to do the shit that no one else wants to do—especially when it’s the CMO asking. Six weeks at home is still better than the two or three I’m used to. It’s practically a year in comparison.

Instead of focusing on the time I’ll miss, I need to remember what I had. It’s what I’ve done since I started this damn job.

I’ll manage. It’s a reflex to stamp the pain down at this point.

---