Page 18 of Worth the Fall

CHAPTER 4

Miguel

Istare at my phone for what has to be the hundredth time today, Mia's business card propped against my laptop screen where it's been taunting me all morning. The coffee date on Saturday keeps replaying in my mind—her laugh when she told that story about her first court appearance, the way she listened so intently to my boring contract law opinions, how natural it felt when our hands brushed reaching for the sugar.

But dating as a single dad isn't simple. Every decision impacts Felicity. And after the way things ended with Celine, I swore I'd be more careful about bringing someone new into our lives.

Yet I can't stop thinking about her.

"Mr. Ramirez?" Tarryn appears in my doorway, ever professional as she hands me another stack of files. "The Morrison brief needs your review by end of day."

"Right. Of course." I try to focus on the documents, but my eyes keep drifting to Mia's card.

"Also," Tarryn adds with just a hint of knowing amusement, "you've been staring at that business card for approximately forty-seven minutes."

I feel my face warm. "That obvious?"

"Only to someone who's been watching you check your phone every three minutes since you arrived this morning. Everything okay?"

I lean back in my chair, letting out the exasperated sigh that’s been sitting just beneath surface level.

"Oh yes, everything’s fine. Just an old man trying to navigate—" I’m about to say the dating world but that doesn’t seem accurate. "Just trying to figure out how to call someone back after a professional coffee date." Her expression remains perfectly composed but there's a gentle understanding in her eyes. "Sorry," I groan, "I know it’s not a good look to start out your new job complaining to your coworkers about your personal life."

This time, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lip. "Well, the Harrison & Brooks number is on file if you need it. For professional purposes, of course."

Professional purposes. Right.

I pick up my phone again, then set it down. Pick it up. Set it down.

"This is pathetic," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

"For what it's worth," Tarryn says quietly, "being careful with your heart doesn't mean keeping it locked away forever."

I look up, surprised by this personal insight from my usually reserved assistant. She merely gives a small, professional nod before returning to her desk, leaving me to my thoughts.

She's right, of course. But every time I consider calling Mia, I remember how crushed Felicity was after Celine left. How she'd ask when Mommy was coming home, not understanding why her family had fractured. I swore I'd never put her through that kind of pain again.

But Mia's different.

My phone lights up with a text from Celine about Felicity's dance schedule and my stomach clenches with familiar guilt.The same guilt that's kept me from pursuing anything beyond casual dates for the past year.

"Screw it," I mutter, pulling up my email. I can at least reach out professionally. That's safe. Responsible.

I type and delete three different messages before finally settling on one.

Hi, Mia,

Hope your Monday's going well. Been thinking about those concerning clauses you mentioned in Cameron's contract. I have some experience with similar issues if you'd like a second opinion. Happy to review it with you after work hours if you're free.

Sincerely… too sterile.

Professionally… too professional. Shit.

Warmly,

Miguel

I hit send before I can overthink it, then immediately regret every word. Too formal? Not formal enough? Should I have?—

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