30. Cecelia
Astrange sound infiltrated my dreams. It was squawking, like a giant screeching eagle, or at first, that’s what I thought it was. I was being buffeted by the downdraft of large, dark wings. The giant bird in my dream shifted, and somewhere, the transition from dream to sleepy reality happened and the screeching was the baby monitor, and the buffeting was Sterling shifting in and out of bed.
“What?” I asked groggily.
“Shh,” Sterling soothed as he climbed back in bed with Georgie in his arms.
I didn’t know if he was shushing me or her. She snuggled into the pillows between us. She wrapped her little hand in my hair, her big, expressive eyes locked with mine. She shifted her gaze back and forth a few times between Sterling and me.
She let go of the bottle she was sucking on and had the widest open-mouthed baby grin I think I ever saw on her. No longer interested in relaxing, and possibly going back to sleep, she was up on her feet and climbing around the bed between us.
She giggled and grabbed at my face, planting her version of kisses on me. She only puckered up if someone made the same facial expression at her first. Otherwise, she kissed with the same consuming enthusiasm she approached a cupcake with. Grab, bite, love.
“Is she always like this? What time is it?” I moaned.
Sterling chuckled. “She reminds me of you?”
“What. How? It is rude o’clock in the morning. I’m never awake this early,” I said.
“You were yesterday,” he reminded me.
“That was past me. Present me would like to be asleep.”
“She’s just happy to have you in bed with us. I know how she feels.” He was gorgeous and sexy, and my insides did a little flip. I loved the way his hair was a mess, and the stubble on his chin was a little thicker and heavier. And his morning voice was deep and rumbly.
“Yeah, but you aren’t jumping on me and biting my face.”
“No, that was last night. And never with present company.” His wicked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and I really wanted to kiss him. But he was right, not with Georgie in bed.
I sighed and wanted to fade back to dreamland, but Georgie was entirely too enthusiastic. I needed to get up and go home so I could get ready for work. I very purposefully did not bring work clothes with me so that I would be forced to leave Sterling’s bed in a timely fashion.
With great effort, I forced myself to roll onto my side, giving Georgie my back. She thought this was great fun and used me as some kind of springboard. At least that’s what it felt like.
“Gotcha,” Sterling said. And Georgie giggled.
I sat up and twisted to look at them. My heart clutched at this moment. This wonderful, precious moment of the three of us, sleepy, together. It felt like family. It felt like home. I blinked because I knew what love looked like. This was it.
I didn’t want to leave and go to work. My priorities felt all wrong. I really needed to rethink this job. It wasn’t fair that I had to choose between work and love, or that I had to be deceptive in order to have both. The night before, I laid everything out for Sterling, how we could make certain that I never was here close to working hours to avoid any possible run-ins with my colleagues, and any date nights, he came to me, so no overlap with the nanny. And on weekends, we could go away.
It was possible to sneak around. And when Georgie was his with full custody and the agency had no more interest or responsibility for her, we could stop sneaking. We could openly be together. Sterling seemed to have liked the plan so much that he carried me to bed to celebrate.
Part of my big plan was that when I did spend the night, I would never leave for work from his place. And that meant this morning. I knew our time was limited. He would have to return to work soon. We didn’t talk about it, but standard family medical leave was twelve weeks at the most. He only had about three weeks left.
At that point, I wouldn’t be spending work nights with him. I knew this was a rare moment for so many reasons, and I wanted to hold on to it.
“You off?” he asked.
I nodded. A lump in my throat made talking without crying hard. I didn’t want to cry in front of Sterling right then.
I got up and got dressed. I returned to his side of the bed to give him and Georgie, who had finally settled down and was looking sleepy, kisses goodbye.
“Are you coming over tonight?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I haven’t gotten a whole lot of sleep the past few nights. I think I’m just going to go home after work and go to bed early,” I admitted.
“Call me,” he said before cupping his hand around my neck and pulling me back for another kiss.
Going home and getting ready for work felt like a chore. I didn’t want to go. Maybe my attitude would have been different if I weren’t headed into the office first thing. I liked helping my clients. I did not like the antiquated office situation.
I put on my little grey suit and slicked my hair into a bun. I felt like I was donning armor. I didn’t expect work to be particularly challenging. I just didn’t want to be there. Once there, my bad attitude made me feel worse because I knew it was all mental. I was playing head games with myself. If I could convince myself that I worked for the bad guys, then I could also convince myself that I worked for the good guys.
I stored my stuff away in my desk, pulled out a pad of paper, and made my way into the copier-slash-breakroom. I needed coffee and I needed the report forms.
“Oh, what’s this?” I asked no one in particular when I got there and there was a stack of new forms in the slot. They were practically fancy and high-end compared to what we had been using. The forms were already in triplicate. The top sheet was white, and the next two pages were yellow and pink.
I hadn’t seen forms like this in a long time. They worked best with typewriters, something we didn’t have, and they did not work in printers, which was fine, since I still hadn’t been given a laptop.
I was practically giddy. I couldn’t be sure if I was actually happy with the forms or just going slightly mad because I had a carbonless form but no real technology to accomplish my job. I took my coffee and a few copies of the form back to my desk.
Greta leaned on my desk looking bored when I got back.
I held up the forms. “We’re getting fancy. Any updates on the computer system?”
“We need to chat,” she said, completely ignoring my question. She stood up and began walking away.
That was my cue to follow her. So, I did. Her office was suspiciously clean. The surface of her desk was void of the piles of files I was used to seeing. Instead of folders, in the middle of her desk was a folded shirt. It was mine
I reached out and poked the shirt. “How did you get my shirt? I’ve been missing this for a few weeks.” I picked it up and unfolded it, draping it over my arm.
Greta sat and took in a long, deep breath. “Peggy brought that to me.”
“Huh?” My brow twisted up with confusion. “How did she get my clothing?”
Greta pursed her lips and looked pained. “She found it at the Alexander residence.”
My entire body went cold, and then sweat beaded along my spine. Crap, I hadn’t realized I left any clothes at Sterling’s. And then I remembered something. I smiled.
“That must have been in the early days when I was showing him how to feed the baby. I took spare clothes because I didn’t want to get my good work clothes messy.” I indicated my suit.
Greta shook her head. “I don’t think so, Cecelia.”
I kept my posture perfect and didn’t let my expression change. I wasn’t going to let Peggy’s snooping around in Sterling’s things get me fired.
“She said it wasn’t there one week, and it was the next,” Greta continued.
I did some mental calculations. Peggy had to have been holding on to the shirt for a good two weeks, at least.
“We know you have continued to see Mr. Alexander and the child.”
“I thought as case managers, we were supposed to make sure our clients had the tools and supplies they needed, not snoop through their belongings?” was my only response.