13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Cole
The late morning light filters through the tall windows of my home office, casting long, soft shadows across the hardwood floor. The room is quiet except for the occasional scratch of my pen as I jot notes in the margins of a contract draft.
My desk is meticulously organized—folders stacked neatly on one side, my laptop open in front of me, and my favorite pen resting in my hand.
The emergency at the office yesterday, though passed, lingers like a tornado leaving chaos and disaster in its wake as it rolls through. The crisis was unavoidable.
A last-minute investor problem had arisen—one of our major stakeholders threatening to pull funding from an upcoming project. Hours of calls and back-and-forth negotiations finally resolved the issue, but the stress of it all hasn’t quite faded.
I sigh and pull the pen’s cap off to refill it, only to realize I’m down to the last ink cartridge. Making a mental note, I grab a sticky note and jot a reminder to ask Ellis to order more. It’s Sunday, so he’ll be placing an order for supplies tomorrow.
Leaning back in my chair, I stretch and glance out the window at the sprawling lawn below. The house is unusually quiet, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the stillness. But the peace is short-lived.
The sound of the door opening then clicking shut a moment later draws my attention. I glance up and see Annie standing in my office, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
“Where’s Robbie?” I ask absently, turning back to my notes.
“He wanted to go grocery shopping with Evelyn,” she says flatly.
“Ah,” I reply, attention already back on the contract. The faint scratch of my pen resumes, but I can feel her gaze lingering on me. It’s an odd, heavy sort of silence that pulls my attention back to her.
I set my pen down and look at her more carefully. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and there’s tension in her shoulders.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, though the answer feels obvious.
Her eyes narrow slightly, and she takes a step closer. “Yeah.”
I resist the urge to sigh. “Well, what is it?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she moves closer, her steps deliberate. When she’s standing just a few feet from my desk, she crosses her arms again and stares me down.
“I want to talk about yesterday,” she says finally.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say, annoyed. I pick up my pen again.
“Well, make time.”
I narrow my eyes at her tone. Seems she’s forgotten that I’m her boss.
“Careful, Annie,” I say evenly, my voice laced with warning. “You’re walking a very fine line.”
She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she crosses her arms tighter over her chest, standing her ground. “Fine line or not, someone has to say it.”
“Say what, exactly?” I snap, leaning back in my chair.
“That you abandoned Robbie at the museum yesterday,” she says, her voice sharp.
I scoff, shaking my head. “Abandoned? That’s hardly what happened. I left him at a daycare center—a very reputable one, by the way. He was perfectly safe, Annie. I wouldn’t have left him there if I thought otherwise.”
Her jaw tightens, and she takes another step forward. “Would you feel the same way if I had abandoned him like that?”
The emphasis she puts on the word abandoned grates on my nerves. “I’m his father,” I say firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.
It’s her turn to scoff this time, and it’s almost derisive. “Could’ve fooled me. ”
My patience snaps. I sit up straighter, my eyes narrowing as I glare at her. “What did you just say?”
“I said,” she repeats, and presses her palms to the desk while leaning over it, “you could’ve fooled me. Fathers don’t abandon their kids for work. Not good ones, anyway.”
Anger flares hot in my chest. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I demand, my voice rising. “You’ve been here for a few weeks, and you think you know what’s best for Robbie?”
Her gaze doesn’t falter, her expression unwavering. “I’ve been here for a few weeks,” she says evenly, “and I’ve already spent more time with him than you have in his whole life.”
She leans closer, her blue eyes flashing with a fire I’ve never seen in her before. “You left Robbie yesterday. At a museum. In a daycare center that he’s never been to before. He was confused and scared, and you just—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “You just left him.”
I exhale sharply, gripping the armrests of my chair. “I didn’t just leave him. It was an emergency. I made sure he was in a safe place.”
“A safe place?” she echoes, her voice rising. “What about a familiar place? A comforting place? Did it ever cross your mind to call me first? Or were you too busy prioritizing work over your son like you always do?”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I mask it with cold indifference. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know more than you think,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.
But her voice is perfectly steady when she continues. “I’m the one who had to pick him up, Cole. I’m the one who had to sit with him while he tried to process why his dad left him there.”
My chest tightens, but I refuse to let her see it. “I did what I had to do. That’s what being a parent is sometimes—making tough decisions.”
Her laugh is bitter, filled with disbelief. “Tough decisions? You call that a tough decision? You didn’t even think twice. You didn’t call. You didn’t ask. You just walked away.”
“That’s enough,” I say, my voice dangerously low.
“No, it’s not enough,” she fires back.
“Get out,” I snap, my voice cold.
She arches a brow, but she doesn’t move.
“I said get out,” I repeat, my tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Leave immediately. Your things will be sent to you.”
Still, she doesn’t move.
My hands curl into fists on the desk as I glare at her. “You’re fired. And don’t think for a second you’ll get your job back at Silver Screen Studios.”
She pushes back away from the desk. Her scoff this time is full of derision. “Oh, another promise broken? Shocker. ”
The anger boiling in my chest spills over, and I push my chair back, standing to my full height. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” I shout, stepping around the desk.
She doesn’t back down. Instead, she raises her voice to match mine. “And you have no idea what it’s like to watch Robbie suffer because of you! Because this isn’t just about yesterday. This is about the fact that you’re never there for him, Cole. Not really. You show up when it’s convenient, and the rest of the time, you’re too busy playing CEO to notice that your son is desperate for your attention.”
I step closer, towering over her. “What gives you the right— ”
“I have every right,” she counters, standing her ground. “Because I’m the one who sees the way he looks at the door, hoping you’ll walk through it.”
The air between us is thick with tension, our voices echoing off the walls as the argument spirals into a storm of accusations and insults.
“Get out!” I roar again, pointing toward the door. “Now. You’re not to come back. Not to the house, not to the studios. You will never see Robbie again.”
“Fine!” she yells back, her voice shaking with fury. “I’ll leave. And your son can lose one of the only people in his life who actually gives a shit about him!”
The words hit like a slap, but I don’t let it show. “You have no idea how I feel about my son,” I bite out.
Her next words are a knife twisting in my chest. “Your son has no idea either. Or he wouldn’t have asked me last night why his daddy doesn’t love him!”
The room falls silent. Her words hang in the air as I freeze in place.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Annie doesn’t stop, though. Her voice breaks, but her anger burns brighter than ever.
“To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing. Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit there and hear that? To sit there and try to find a way to convince that little boy that you actually care about him?”
She throws her arms out wide. “How do I explain to him that, despite the fact that you don’t spend time with him and that you abandon him in random places for work emergencies, you love him more than anything. Even though I have no idea if it’s true. Because I’ve been asking myself the same damn question!”
Her words slam into me, each one sharper than the last. I can’t think, can’t breathe.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve truly failed. Not as a CEO, not as a businessman, but as a father.
My mind races with memories of Robbie—his shy smiles, the way he clutches Rexy like a lifeline, the quiet moments when I see glimpses of the little boy he is underneath all that hesitation .
“I love my son,” I say finally, my voice strained.
“Is it a secret?” Her question slices through the racing thoughts in my mind.
I blink, stunned, and for a moment, I can’t even process the words. My chest tightens as I struggle to form a coherent thought. Annie, however, doesn’t give me the luxury of time.
“Because that’s how it feels, Cole,” she continues, a little softer. “Like you’re keeping it locked away in some vault. Robbie doesn’t know it, and honestly? Neither do I.”
“Stop,” I say hoarsely, shaking my head.
But she doesn’t stop. She steps closer, her gaze fierce, unwavering. “No. You need to hear this. You need to understand what you’re doing—what you’re not doing. Robbie loves you so much it hurts to watch. You’re like his hero. Other than dinosaurs, you’re the only thing he talks about. And all he gets in return are crumbs. Just crumbs. And barely that!”
My fists clench at my sides, the tension in my body coiling tighter with every word. “I do the best I can,” I manage, my voice low, almost pleading.
I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. Her or myself.
“Do you?” she snaps. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it. You prioritize everything else—your job, your meetings, your reputation—and your son gets whatever’s left over. Though that’s not much, is it? ”
“That’s enough,” I growl, the anger bubbling over again. “You don’t get to stand there and pass judgment on me. You don’t know what it’s like to be in my position.”
“No,” she agrees, her tone icy. “I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent and big, important CEO. But I know what it’s like to care about a little boy who feels like he’s not enough for his own father. And I know what it’s like to feel powerless to fix it.”
Her words hit hard, and I turn away, unable to meet her gaze. My eyes land on my organized desk—the contracts, the files, the neatly stacked folders that represent the carefully curated world I’ve built.
“I’ve done everything I can to give Robbie a good life,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“A good life?” Annie repeats, her laugh humorless. “A good life isn’t just a big house and private school. It’s being there for him. It’s showing up. It’s making him feel like he matters to you.”
I whip around to face her, the fire in her eyes mirrored in me. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I’m doing enough? If I’m enough?”
“Then do something about it!” she yells, throwing her hands up. “Stop making excuses, stop hiding behind your work, and be the father he needs.”
The room falls silent again, the echo of her words settling into the air like dust. My breathing is shallow, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to process everything she’s said.
She takes a step back, her expression softening ever so slightly. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Cole,” she says quietly. “I’m saying it because someone has to, and everybody else is too busy kissing your ass so they don’t lose their jobs.”
She sighs. “Robbie deserves better. That’s it, Cole. That’s the thing that no one’s telling you. The thing I think you know but don’t want to admit. It might not happen any time soon. Hell, it might not happen for fifteen, twenty years, but one day you’re going to look up from your desk and he’s not going to be there.”
I feel more than see her take a step closer.
“He might not hate you— Robbie’s not like that, or maybe he will be someday—but he will stop trying. He’ll stop hoping. And the saddest part? He’ll think it’s his fault. He’ll think he wasn’t enough for you, when the truth is, you just didn’t show him that he was.”
A sharp, cold pain slices through me, like a dagger to the chest. The thought of Robbie—my little boy, my only son—giving up on me... it’s unbearable.
“You think I don’t care?” I say hoarsely, my voice cracking under the strain of holding back my emotions.
“No,” Annie replies softly. “I think you do care. But caring isn’t the same as showing it.”
I run a hand through my hair, and realize that my hand is shaking a bit. She’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right.
Her gaze softens even more, and for a moment, I see Annie in a very different light. Not as the former receptionist or the new nanny, not even as the passionate woman who was in my arms in this very room a few nights ago.
I see a woman who’s been patient with my son, who reads him bedtime stories and cheers him on when he’s too shy to join the other kids.
At least, that’s what Robbie was telling me yesterday before I… abandoned him at the museum.
Annie exhales deeply, the tension in her posture easing slightly. “Look, I’ll leave, okay? If that’s what you want, I can be out of here in a minute, but—”
“No.” The word escapes me before I’ve even realized I’m saying it.
Annie stops mid-sentence, her brows lifting slightly.
“No,” I say again, more firmly this time. “Don’t leave. It’s obvious that you care about Robbie. More than your job.”
Which is more than anyone else has. The thought sends a stabbing pain through me. That this woman who has only been in his life for a few weeks just risked her livelihood for him.
Annie blinks, clearly startled. “I do care about him,” she says softly. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you, Cole. Robbie needs you. If I leave today, he’ll be sad, but he’ll get over it eventually. He’ll forget about me. He won’t forget about you. ”
“I know,” I admit, my voice low. “I know I haven’t been there for him the way I should. And yesterday…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
“Yesterday can’t happen again,” she says firmly. “It scared him, Cole. You scared him.”
I flinch at her words. Hearing it said out loud makes it worse, like a knife twisting in my chest. I glance back at my desk, at the scattered papers and the notes I was working on, and suddenly, none of it seems important.
“I didn’t mean to scare him,” I say, the confession coming out rough and unpolished. “I thought—”
“You thought it would be fine,” she interrupts. “But you didn’t think about him, not really. You thought about getting back to work as quickly as possible. You thought about his physical safety. But you didn’t think about his emotional health.”
I nod slowly, the fight draining out of me. “You’re right,” I admit, the words tasting foreign but necessary. I look up into those clear blue eyes and, for the first time in years, feel helpless. “What do you suggest I do? How do I fix this?”
Her expression softens into something almost like relief. “You show up.”
The simplicity of her words strikes a chord in me. Showing up. How did something so basic become so foreign to me?
“Today.”
“Today?” I echo.
She nods once. “Yup. Robbie went to the store with Evelyn, and when he comes back, he’ll be bursting with stories to tell.”
“About the store?” I ask slowly.
Annie nods again. “Yup, about the store. And they won’t be particularly interesting.”
To my shock, a laugh huffs out of me.
“But you’re going to sit there and listen to them. I don’t mean you’re going to sit there with your phone or laptop while he talks. I mean, you’re going to sit there and listen to them. All.”
“And that’s it?”
She shrugs. “That’s it.”
“That’s gonna fix everything?”
Her shoulders drop with a sigh, and she gives me a small smile. “He’s five, Cole. He’s not keeping score. All he needs is attention.”
I blow out a long breath, the weight on my chest lifting just slightly. “Okay,” I say, the word feeling like a tentative step forward.
Her smile widens, and for a moment, the tension between us eases. She crosses her arms, and her tone becomes a touch lighter. “And if you don’t, I’m going to come back in here and yell at you again. ”
I shock myself by laughing and shaking my head. “I believe you would. In fact, I think you enjoyed it.”
“Nothing like a good screaming match to clear the air,” she quips.
The room falls into silence, not heavy like before, but a thoughtful silence. Annie takes a small step back, glancing at the door.
“I should let you get back to work,” she says, her voice softer now.
I nod, though part of me wants her to stay. “Annie,” I call as she turns to leave.
She pauses, looking back at me with a raised brow.
“Thank you,” I say, the words feeling inadequate but necessary.
She hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Just show up, Cole. That’s all the thanks I need.”
She walks out, and I stare at the empty doorway for a long moment.
Her words echo in my mind, weaving through the thoughts that have been tangled there for far too long.
Show up.
The simplicity of it is almost laughable, but as I stand there in the quiet, I realize it’s the one thing I’ve failed to do.
I finally turn away from the door and my gaze falls on the photo of Robbie and Robin sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. The only one that exists, taken just seconds after Robbie was born. Despite being weak from childbirth and blood loss, she’s smiling, her hands cradling our little baby boy like he was her whole life.
“I won’t let him down,” I murmur, the words a promise to both of them.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I let the weight of everything sink in—not just the guilt or the frustration, but the possibility of something better.
It won’t be easy. I know that. But for Robbie, I’ll try. I’ll do better.
Because he deserves more than crumbs.