Page 4 of Single Dad's Second Chance

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MIA

Spinster cat lady?

I huffed a laugh to myself and dared a peek over my shoulder at Henry in his office with his dad. I wasn’t surprised to find him still watching me through the window. Feeling the heat of his stare wasn’t anything new.

You havenoidea…

Calling me—a cabaret dancer—a spinster cat lady was an oxymoron.

I spent my days here, working as the secretary on his floor, but my nights were spent at Danger, the night club where I entertained as a burlesque-slash-cabaret dancer. In that respect, I was no different from Henry. He was a workaholic, always hard at it in the office and then busier yet being a father to Jason. And I was a workaholic, never failing to show up here to pretend to be a typical office worker when I probably needed more sleep from a long night of dancing.

Burning the candle from two ends used to be a fad. Now, for me, it was a drag on my existence.

When will I ever feel caught up?With life. With money.Ever?

Stifling another yawn, I pasted on a smile as Jen came down the hallway. The executive assistant to Owen, the COO, wouldn’t want to see me looking so tired. She was a busybody, always a mother hen, and I didn’t need her to fret about my being exhausted.

Iwastired, but my expression lingered from what Henry had said. Hearing him mistake me for a spinster cat lady rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t like I could correct him about why I lacked a social life.

I wasn’t quick enough to wipe the frown off my face, though.

“Oh, Mia. Mia, Mia, Mia.” Jen sighed, furrowing her brow as she paused me in the hall. “You’re too young to be looking that beat.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s already ten o’clock.”

I smiled and shrugged. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix.”

“You’ve got to get a handle on that habit of yours.” She wagged her finger at me good-naturedly. “It’s wonderful to be such a diehard bookworm, but maybe you should set a timer.”

I laughed lightly, glad she still bought my lie about why I was often sleepy. I wished I could have late nights of staying up reading, too engrossed with a story to quit for bedtime. Because working two jobs like this was a daunting future to maintain. “Maybe one of these days,” I replied chirpily as I headed back to my small office.

“Do you have an idea for what book we can do for next month’s book club meeting?” She beamed at me.

This was the problem with lies. They always spread and formed more layers to keep up with. “Oh, um. Isn’t it Luke’s turn to pick the book?”

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, shoot. I think it is, but with him almost on paternity leave, I’ll bet he forgot.”

“I’ll think of one if he can’t.”

She patted my arm. “Thanks, hun. You’re such a doll.”

I didn’t have time to read for fun. I wasn’t sure I had time to even pick a book to fake read for this meeting, but I would figure it out. Not only did I need to maintain the lie that I was always sleeping because I read too late at night, but I also enjoyed those get-togethers. Working for the Dunn group felt like being included in a family. Maybe the “family” was set at the office, but it felt homey and inclusive—both of which I lacked in life.

Note to self, find a short book to suggest.I sighed as I walked to my office.Like I need something else on my to-do list.

Even though my office was tiny and the window was itty bitty, I relished the closed-in feeling. I was never prone to claustrophobia, and I appreciated the utter privacy and isolation in here. When I was on the stage, dancing, I had to overcome the ickiness of being soonand vulnerably exposed. Here, in this tiny office, I felt secure. It wasmyplace. These four walls weremineto decorate and hide behind.

“First things first,” I muttered to myself as I plopped back into my chair. Rolling it toward the desk, I picked up my pen and scratched off the last line on my to-do list. I had a mental one that ran nonstop, but to keep on track here, I jotted it all down.

Drop off latest forms to H.I scraped the tip of my pen through the item. Below it was the chore I hated the most.

Check bills and finances.

With another sigh, I unlocked my computer and ran through my personal finances. Wednesdays were slower days, and I never felt bad to use the spreadsheet on this computer to keep an eye on my bank account. It was always short on funds. Just like I did every first Wednesday of the month, I revisited the dread that I would be working to the grave trying to pay off these damn loans. At the rate I was going, I would never save up enough to expunge my record, pay off the delinquent student loans, and pay back the credit card debts my ex incurred years ago.

There was simply no end in sight. After marking all my payment dates in and seeing how much more I’d need to make to skimp by, I dropped my head to my arms on the desktop and groaned.

It didn’t have to be like this. Icouldmake more money. I’d never be able to go back to school and get my law degree to work in the legal field like I’d always wanted to.

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