Page 14 of A Baby For Her Billionaire BFF

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply, my tone lighter than I feel.

As I pour myself a cup of coffee, strong and black, Melanie’s departure for maternity leave looms over me like a cloud. A detail I should have remembered, a plan I should have already set in motion.

“Big day tomorrow,” Janet continues. “We’ll miss her around here.”

“We will,” I agree, because it’s true; Melanie’s competence is as much a fixture in this office as the espresso machine is in mine.

“Make sure you sign the card.” Janet nods toward the table where a giant farewell card sits, waiting for well-wishers to scrawl their sentiments.

“Will do,” I say, even though right now, all I can think about is how I’ll manage the gap Melanie will leave behind.

The door opens, and Ben enters, shock written all over his face. “Wow. Look at you, mixing with the commoners.”

“Very funny.”

As he’s the person here who’s known me the longest, he’s also the only one who dares speak to me that way. About half the staff is so afraid of me they won’t even meet my eyes when I walk by.

Which I don’t get. Yeah, I expect professionalism and for my staff to give one hundred percent all of the time, but why wouldn’t I? That sort of work effort is what makes our company stand out.

“You here for Melanie’s party?” Ben asks.

“Yeah.” I lean against the counter and sip my coffee.

“Uh-huh.” Ben raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Of course not,” I lie, even though it’s painfully clear that I have.

“Good, because she’s really excited about it.” Ben sips his coffee, eyeing me with a look that says he knows I’m scrambling mentally.

“Excited” isn’t the term I would use to describe my current state. Panic is more like it. Melanie’s maternity leave starts tomorrow, which means today should be filled with finalizing her temporary replacement. Except, there is no replacement because somehow, amidst mergers and acquisitions, I’ve dropped the ball.

“Six months is a long time,” I murmur, more to myself than to Ben.

It’s a statement laced with concern, not for Melanie’s life choices but for the gaping hole her departure will create in our operations.

“Could be longer,” Ben points out. “First kids have a way of changing priorities.”

“Sure,” I say, the word tight in my throat.

I respect Melanie’s decision. Family is important to some people, even though it’s something I’ve never had much of an experience with. But business is business, and Melanie is leaving big shoes to fill during the prime of her career.

“Anyway, make sure you’re there for her big send-off,” Ben adds before pushing away from the counter. “Wouldn’t want the boss to miss out on the festivities.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, forcing a smile as Ben exits the break room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the banners that now seem to mock me with their cheerfulness.

Melanie’s maternity leave is a celebration, yet here I am, feeling like I’ve just been blindsided by a freight train of responsibility.

And I have less than twenty-four hours to find a solution.

Leaving the break room, I stride through the maze of cubicles. What was I thinking, letting Melanie’s maternity leave sneak up on me like this?

“Jenna, Mark,” I call out to HR, not bothering to check if they’re at their desks before I start barking orders. “We need a temporary replacement for Melanie, and we need it yesterday.”

Jenna looks up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. Mark, ever the calm one, folds his hands on his desk and gives me an expectant look. It’s clear they weren’t prepared for this curveball, which makes three of us.

“Oliver,” Jenna starts, her voice tinged with caution, “you said you wanted to find Melanie’s replacement personally. We’ve held off on posting the position because?—”

“Forget that,” I interrupt, cutting her off more sharply than I intend.

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