Page 29 of Just a Distraction

I can barely breathe. I perk a smile at him as he stands there, his lips parted just so. Like,Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world . . .

And then, instead of saying anything to him, I spin around and step in between Claudia and Janet. Knowing that Milo’s standing there, watching me walk away, is a pulsating buzz throughout my body.

His presence is a big, fat, rolling, buzzing tug on my heart. I remember everything about Milo. The spice of his cologne. His broad grin that teased me into a state of breathlessness.

The way he kissed me in the emergency room.

The way his lips explored mine as if my mouth was the only thing that could ever bring him happiness.

It was the most intimate thing I’d experienced with a man.

And even now, the memory of it threatens to make me turn right back around and wrap him in my arms. And probably do that thing where I jump up and wrap both legs around his waist so we can spin.

But I can’t! I’m working. I swallow away the buzz and press my lips together to squelch the memories.

Gathering enough air to get something of my wits about me again, I focus on the task at hand. “I think you’re going to like the uniforms,” I say to Claudia and Janet as we walk toward the housekeeping office. “Whoever picked them was a genius. And definitely a woman.” I snap my fingers in a sort of Latin dance move. “They do nice things for our assets, ladies!”

The three of us laugh. They’re my first hires in my new job, and that warrants a sense of satisfaction.

I quit Casa del Cibo to accept the job at the Days Inn six months ago. And now I’m not just cleaning hotel rooms anymore. I’m a housekeeping manager for Tate International. Whoop! Whoop!

Call the presses and break out the confetti!

When I heard about this position in Longdale, it seemed too good to be true. I wasn’t looking to leave my native Denver, but they offer free childcare for their employees. There’s a daycare center here at the resort, and both employees and guests can use it.

And the best part? They’re letting me relocate to the Chapel Hill, North Carolina Tate International location when I start nursing school on a scholarship in the fall. It’s only a few minutes’ drive away from the college.

Three years after I was supposed to start, I’m finally doing it. They even have programs for parents who are enrolled, and I get a sharply discounted rate on childcare for Callum.

I’m doing my thing, providing for Callum and me. And even though I would have preferred a job in a lab or as a medical assistant, Tate International has been a blessing.

And Callum and I? We’re okay.

We round the corner of the lobby to head down the housekeeping hall, and I’m all smiles, even though my mouth is parched and my legs are jellied from seeing Milo again.

“Ladies,” I say. “It’s a housekeeping job, not molecular biology. But this is a great place to work.”

“And the childcare . . . is it actually good?” Claudia asks, a tone of cautious hope on her lips.

I get it. For working mothers struggling to provide for our families, free childcare seems too good to be true.

“It is. They’ve got a good staff of childcare workers. And there’s an app where you can check in on the video feed to keep an eye on your kids while you work. I’ve only been here for two weeks, but so far so good. I’d much rather have my child here on the premises than somewhere else.”

I get the women settled with their uniforms, telling them to let me know if they need different sizing, then walk them to HR and have them sign their initial paperwork. Once they’re out thedoor, I get back to work. I manage eight people—now ten—so I have a lot to do in my remaining four hours of my shift.

So much to do that I can manage my thoughts of Milo. Barely. Surely he’ll be done with his meal and gone by now, right?

He’s still on my mind at five o’clock as my low-heeled shoes click on the slate and hardwood floors of the lobby to the other side of the resort so I can pick up Callum.

Callum gives me a toothy grin when he sees me. He finishes sliding down a puffy, soft slide set on his tummy and then runs to me, his stilted steps becoming more and more natural, the toddle of his newly-walking days almost gone. He’s wearing little jeans and a soft long-sleeved T-shirt. He looks so grownup that my heart squeezes against my ribcage.

“My baby,” I squeal as I pick him up and swing him in the air before kissing his squishy little neck over and over again, relishing in his delighted giggles. “I missed you, Callum.”

And I did. But it also really helps that he likes this place and that he’s in a good, safe environment. I’m grateful for all that Blaine’s mom, Darla, did for us, and she’s still involved in Callum’s life. But this is better for us as a whole.

I’m heading out the doors of the childcare center when my phone pings with an alert from HR, telling me I have something in my mailbox. Not my corporate email. My actual physical shelf they have set up in the housekeeping office. Apparently, it’s automated and digitized so that it sends an alert anytime something’s placed in there for me. This is the first alert like this that I’ve gotten since my initial week on the job. It’s probably from my boss, Anna.

I swing Callum down from my hip so he can walk, steering his head to get him going the right direction. “Let’s go get our mail, my boy.” I tell him.

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