1. Shaylee
If I foundone more of these damn post-its on my door, I was going to stab someone with my number two pencil. I had an assistant—message collector, note taker—for a reason.
She could see it from her desk too. I think she let them do it just to make me batty. Brat! Snatching the yellow paper free of my name plate, I unlocked my door.
“Danni, can you grab the Johnston folder from the conference room for me?” I asked as I pushed open my office door. The coolness rushed out to meet me.
My best friend sat at the desk just outside of my office, writing in a call log. Her head was down, but I caught the tip of her lips tugging up. Her amusement at my aggravation solidified my thoughts. She enjoyed it.
“Sure thing, Lee. I figured you’d be in a full sprint when you got back, and I know you never think of it yourself, so I’ve ordered lunch; it’ll be here in twenty.”
“Thank you, baby Jesus. I’m starving. I wasn’t prepared for that appointment to run so long. I’d hoped to meet with Thomas and his business manager about the upcoming meeting with Netflix.”
“Yeah, he called to reschedule it since you were running late. He’s a super cool fella.”
“You’re the best. Even when you’re being a brat.”
“Aw, I love you too. I got you, boo. You can tell me all about the appointment in a minute.”
Chuckling, I entered my office, dropped my bags in the chair beside the desk, and hung up my sweater. I moved my bags to the large drawer in the bottom of my built-in filing cabinets. Out of sight, out of mind. My office was cluttered enough with a stack of manuscripts on the floor, the side table, and even a few new ones waiting to be sorted, piled on my desk.
I was playing catch-up after working from home for the last few days. Which meant I hadn’t gotten too much done. A sick baby had my full attention most of the time. To be honest, I wasn’t having any luck finding the right fit for what the publishing house was looking for. Some of these stories were marvelous, I would find the right place for them, but I still needed to find the right murder mystery. Where was Angela Lansbury when you needed a good story?
Shuffling through the messages on my desk, I sighed. I had an obligation to do whatever it took to make things a fit for all involved. Maybe my luck would change today. I could knock out a few requests. After all, making money for these writers was the ultimate goal. Letting their dreams blossom into reality—well, that was a bonus for me. Knowing I had something to do, a small part, in their journey, helped me sleep at night.
I knew when I took this job that it would be a lot of work. Lost sleep, living on caffeine and animal crackers. It was like college all over again. Though there was a lot not like college. Like the fact that I had a small human dependent on me and me alone. I loved every minute of it though. I’d not change one thing that had happened to or for me over the last couple of years. Life has been good, even if it’s been chaotic at times. I’ve embraced my ‘it is my circus; it is my monkeys’ mindset.
I’d never been good at juggling anything until Lola came along. I was making a name for myself, testing the waters—causing waves when needed—all the while, having no idea I was pregnant. I swear my periods have always been erratic, so missing a couple was nothing—it was normal. I had a few that were just a mere spot or three, then they were gone. Those were normal too. Mild cramping at times, which I know now was probably just gas. Again, a totally normal bodily action. I remember rejoicing about not having the periods from hell. Thanking whatever deity there was that I’d been given a reprieve.
I’m sure everyone around me was happy that there wasn’t a grumpy Lee walking around craving ice cream, chocolate, and Chinese food. Though Chinese food was a staple in my diet on the regular. Ice cream too, if I’m being honest. Cookie dough…yum.
Everything came to a head while in the middle of a busy work day. I’d thought it was mere food poisoning at first, but there was no vomiting. Then, remembering my freshman year of college and the bout I’d had with kidney stones, I thought it was maybe a reoccurrence. I hoped it was something that could be fixed with meds and rest. I was a busy woman!
But alas, that was a big, fat nope. It was nothing of the sort. I will never forget the look on the emergency room doctor’s face. He’d been mashing on my belly, my lower side, trying to rule out things, when he looked down at me and asked, “Is there any way you could be pregnant?”
My eyes had widened, and I’d laughed, pain be damned. I was mortified he’d even asked, replying with an indignant, “Of course not. I’m as single as a girl can be. The only action I’ve gotten in the last however long has been from a battery-operated boyfriend.”
Yeah, looking back, that was definitely a TMI moment, but he’d asked the question. I hadn’t taken in the fact that even though I wasn’t actively in a sexual relationship, I had been about eight months before.
To my surprise, I was in fact pregnant and in active labor. Apparently, I had been for a while, too. Panic. Disbelief. Denial. I went through it all. Even after seeing the baby on the ultrasound. It just couldn’t be.
I was proven wrong.
Seven and a half hours later, I was exhausted, overrun with strong emotions I wasn’t sure I’d survive. That was until I got to hold my daughter in my arms. It took me a little bit of time to let it wrap around me. I was a mother; I had a daughter.
A tiny, wrinkly, little human that was all mine.
I had to do the biggest life pivot anyone could imagine. Seeing as I’d had no idea I was pregnant, I had nothing for a baby. My one-bedroom apartment was barely big enough for me, and to be honest, I had no clue about how to be a mom.
Add to that the fact that I was embarrassed. I didn’t remember the name of the man I’d slept with all those months ago. I knew his face. I could pick him out of a police line-up; though let’s hope that never happened.
I avoided the “Oh, who’s the father? Is it someone we know?” questions. I got them a lot. People were just too invasive and nosy for their own good.
Then there was the question I asked myself daily: How could I be pregnant for an entire life cycle of this little peanut, a full eight and a half or nine months, and not have the slightest clue she was in there? There had to be so many things that I’d missed. Thank the heavens, I was not a drinker or a smoker… Or worse.
I’d wracked my brain to make sure there hadn’t been a glass of wine at a work dinner or meeting with a client. I couldn’t remember one. My club days, which were so far in the past now that they didn’t exist, meant I didn’t have to worry about drinking there.
The last time I’d gone out was the night my daughter was conceived.
I would die if I’d caused her some kind of pain by not knowing I was pregnant and doing any of those things. Guess only time would tell—for now they say she’s perfect. I pray daily that she grows up to be someone special in this world.
“Here you go. How did Miss Priss do at the doctor?”
I looked up, smiling, letting my thoughts of the past fall away. “She did great. They gave her a once-over; she’s gaining weight, finally. I swear she eats almost non-stop some days, then others, she like, ‘Eh, fuck this.’” Shaking my head, I plopped down in my chair. “Mom said I was like that at her age too.” Looking down, I frowned and let out a long sigh. “Though I don’t have the not-eating problem anymore. I’ve gone up from an eight to a ten/twelve.” I tugged at my suit jacket.
“Girl, don’t say it. That weight looks damn good on you. As someone who is bigger than you and has always been so, you shouldn’t let that insecurity get you by the short hairs. Embrace the mom curves. Real men like a woman with something to grab on to. Trust me. I’m speaking from experience.”
“Oh God, I don’t need to think about men grabbing onto you.” Laughing, I sat at my desk, rearranging the stack of manuscripts.
She snorted. “Cheeky! But, no. I was just saying. You should get back on the dick. You’ve not had a date, hook-up, or anything in almost two years. Your pus?—”
“I will fire you if you finish that thought. I’m fine; I don’t need a man. Last time I got on a dick, as you say, I got pregnant. Plus, I don’t have time for anything else right now. Nor the energy. God, please tell me this phase will pass. Mama needs some good sleep.”
“It ends when they get older… No, wait. It never goes away. She’ll be sixty, false teeth, gray hair hanging in her face, changing your diapers and still needing you.”
Of course, I thought it would be a great idea to take a drink while she was talking. I knew better. Laughing while swallowing only made one hack up a lung to be able to breathe. Not one to fret over my breathing, she just kept right on going.
“She’ll be mashing your peas and carrots up for you, wanting advice about her own kids, her husband’s lack of a sex drive. So many things.”
“Stop. Talking,” I wheezed. The laughter I was holding back had me shaking. Why was I friends with her? Oh yeah, ‘cause I loved the crazy loon.
“Sorry. Here, here.” She patted my back, grinning. “Don’t choke. Or die. I have two of my own kids, I’m not taking over yours too. That’s not how this friendship works. I go first. I want it to be so. But not until I’m ninety-seven and a half. Yes, that half counts. Don’t ask any questions.”
With that, she stalked out of the office, her tinkling laughter following her like a cape.
I wiped my mouth with a Kleenex before pulling the manuscript I had been working on earlier toward me. I could do this on the computer, but I found having the printed MS in hand, to soak in, made the process all the more real for me. Easier to navigate as well. I kicked my heels off, put my feet up on the chair next to the desk, and pulled a notebook closer. I had a pencil, red pen, and a stack of sticky notes ready.
Time to get back to it. Work waited for no one.
“Congratulations again, Thomas!” I hugged the short, slightly pudgy man tight. He’d just signed a contract, with the help of his lawyers and a business advisor, for the rights to two of his books. They’d be making the story into a Netflix original feature. To say I was elated for him was putting it lightly. He was one of my first clients. He’d trusted me to make his dreams come true and so far, we, as a team, had managed to surpass his dreams. He was like a brother to me, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
Yes, I got paid to do this for him. I got paid when he did, too. A small percentage of his profit helped me feed and clothe myself and my child. That’s how this worked. A job was a job. No matter what I was doing though, I’d always give it my best. He knew he was getting all I could give and then some.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure. Really,” I gushed, grinning ear to ear. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”
“Here, here. Let’s have a celebratory drink.” Danni slid to a stop beside us and leaned in to whisper, “It’s just sparkling grape juice. Shhh, don’t tell the fuddy-duddies over there. I want to make them think we are drinking it up.”
Thomas, used to her shenanigans, laughed, his head falling back as he did. I, too, was laughing.
“Danni, really. Behave, woman!” I took a sip from the flute in my hand, my elation growing.
“I am behaving. So, Thomas, tell me, what’s next?”
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “Let me get over the shock of this good news and settle in a bit, then ask me that.”
“Deal.” Danni drained her glass.
“Glad that’s not the real stuff.”
“As if,” she huffed. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
She walked off still muttering to herself. I raised a brow. Crazy lady.
I turned to give Thomas a final goodbye since we were almost at the elevators only to find Mr. Whitman heading my way. He wasn’t alone. A tall, sexy drink of water followed along, chatting with the older man.
“Mommy!” I looked toward the elevator at the sound of my daughter’s chipper squeal.
I bent down and scooped her up as she toddled to me. I took in her fresh baby powder scent. So happy to see her.
I looked up to find my mother. Only it wasn’t her who I found a few feet away from me.
My heart stopped as my brain short-circuited when those blue eyes met mine.
It was him.
My one-night stand.
He was here and coming right at me.
Holy shitballs!