Page 8 of One Small Secret

Mr. Auger’s neck is reddening. I’d embarrassed him, in the type of meeting he probably didn’t usually get invited to. Huge mistake. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” He took a deep, fortifying breath and straightened, then morphed back into my cheerful boss. “Enough about that. I’m sorry if I came off as frustrated. I should have waited to talk to you until I’d had more time to brush it off, but I need the reports on possible new build locations that I asked you for yesterday.”

I’d meant to work on those after I got home last night. “I can get you those this afternoon.”

He tapped his pen on his desk. “I need them now.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t have them.”

“I hate to ask this, but could you skip lunch and get them to me as soon as possible?”

Skip lunch? He’d never asked me to skip lunch before. “The truth is, I’ve had quite the morning, and it seems I’ve left my laptop at home.”

Mr. Auger went still. “What?”

“I slept in and was running late. I accidentally—”

“So, when you walked into that meeting you were only just arriving at work?” He held up his hand. “You had your coat on, of course you were.”

“My apartment is only a few blocks away. I can go and get my laptop now.”

“No, don’t worry about it. It sounds like you really have had a rough day. I’ll have Christian do it.”

I grit my teeth. I have never, ever had someone pick up the slack for me at work. “I really don’t mind. I need to add a few things about the Laos location, and Christian hasn’t been there. I’ll have it done within two hours.”

“Really, Cadence. Don’t worry about it. Mr. Palmer told me I should ask you to go home at lunch and I was hoping to get them before you left. That’s all.”

“He told you what? Why?” But the dull ache in my head gives me a pretty solid clue. Did he feel bad about smacking me in the head with a door? “Because of this?” I point to my bump.

Mr. Auger shrugs. “Probably. Either that, or he doesn’t want you running into our European visitors again.” Oh. That is a distinct possibility. “I can have you look over the file when you get back to the office tomorrow and add what you deem necessary. For now, I’ll have Christian finish it.”

I open my mouth to protest. I haven’t missed a day of work without giving months of notice in six years, and I could be back with my laptop within fifteen minutes. But I snap my mouth closed. I’m chalking this up as one more thing to blame on Moira. “I’ll take a personal day.”

I’m violently putting on my coat when Christian comes to my desk. His movie star teeth widen to a smile. “Going home to get your computer?”

“I’m going home, period. I should've done myself a huge favor and called in sick today.”

“Are you sick? You don’t look quite yourself, and not just because of that goose egg.”

I pick up the Marilyn Monroe bag and all I can do is laugh. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I hope I don’t look like I’ve had no sleep every day.”

“Rough night?” Christian raises his eyebrows, obviously insinuating something personal, but if he thinks I can find a man to keep me up at night less than three days after moving here, he’s pegged me wrong in so many ways.

“Yes.” I tuck my chair into my desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Not tonight? If you aren’t up for the lake, maybe I could grab us some dinner?”

“No.” I try to picture Christian showing up to my apartment with a baby crying in the background. I mean, there's a chance Moira will be back today, but if she went to the airport, most likely not. I’ll probably have him for a week, minimum. If she would have asked me, I might have been able to take off work or find a sitter, but with no warning like this? She’s made my life a living nightmare. “I’m sorry. Something very unexpected came up.”

Christian’s smile fades and his eyes change. I can see him sorting this rejection into the pile of those I gave him before I left. Make that one more thing Moira owes me—a date with a nice man, because I probably won’t get another chance with Christian.

CHAPTER SIX

Mom is some kind of baby whisperer. Moira’s baby is sitting on the floor, Mom in front of him, making a spoon disappear and reappear behind her back. He’s giggling like she's the most entertaining thing in the world. After all my singing, playing peek-a-boo, and trying to bribe him with tiny pieces of breath mints last night, he never once giggled for me.

Mom looks up. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, well, work didn’t go according to plan. I took the day off. Have you heard from Moira?”

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