Page 14 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

“We’re fucking starving, Toby. You’ve kept us waiting on you half the fucking day.”

“Okay, okay.” A stab of guilt slices through me. “Give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes. Give me your phone.”

I hand it to him and begrudgingly dress to join them, but I can’t get the sweet note and gesture out of my head. That woman was the best one we’d ever brought home—not just because she was sexy as fuck. There was something about her.

It’s a damn shame we’ll never see her again.

Maybe I’ll keep looking for her when we get back.

CHAPTER4

Emerson

The din inside the offices of Techicom Communications reaches a fever pitch, but it’s more like background noise, like a movie happening around me. People move dramatically, waving their hands and shouting. Someone cries, and a door slams as former employees attempt to confront their superiors.

Or I assume that’s what they’re trying to do.

There should be some dramatic Vivaldi concerto playing to enhance the theater. Papers fly off desks in pathetic acts of defiance. Some jerk thinks he’s macho doing a proper arm sweep, forcing a pile onto the floor.

Moron.That’s only going to create work for the cleaning staff, not punish the executives or give them anything to consider. The only thing the executives are considering is their bottom lines.

But me? I just sit at my desk, staring emptily at my computer screen, waiting.

For what exactly? I’m not sure.

I’m certainly not dealing with any customers, emails, or orders today. I guess I’m waiting for an order or directive. Surely someone at some point is going to tell me what to do. Are we all supposed to leave?

Maybe the company owners will want to give a speech about what just happened, rather than emailing the whole company to let us know we no longer have a job.

Probably not.

I’m sure I’m giving the owners too much credit.

“Emmy?”

The pretty mountain screen saver is supposed to be calming, a sunset against a gray peak, although what it represents, I’m not sure. It comes standard with all the employees’ workstations. It’s been the same for the past five years that I’ve worked for Techicom. I could have changed mine to a photo of something more personal. One with friends from college, or maybe my best friend, Mae. Or I could have used the photo of my mom and me from Belle’s wedding two weeks ago. That photo was about the only good thing to come from that affair, even though Greg had been in it, too. If my stepdad hadn’t been in the photo, I might have made that picture my phone’s screensaver.

Why am I thinking about screensavers? I’m dealing with a workplace catastrophe.

“Emerson!” Fingers snap in front of my face, and for a second, I think someone is about to slap me. I recoil and blink. The floor manager stares worriedly at me. “Honey, are you all right? I’ve been trying to get your attention for two minutes—no exaggeration!”

“Sorry.” I gather my bearings, the mild shock of the mass firing wearing off.

Seriously, get it together, Emmy.

“Heavens, I thought we’d lost you! Are you all right?”

I laugh humorlessly. “Not really,” I tell her honestly. “I mean, no worse than anyone else in here, I suppose.”

I gesture vaguely at the place gone wild, and she clucks commiserating.

“I know, hon, but you’ll land on your feet—probably better than most of these lunatics. At least you’re not off setting things on fire like they are in the mailroom.”

I gawk at her. “Are they really?”

“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” She shrugs. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll give you a recommendation, you know.”

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