12. Selene
Selene
The empty couch greets me when I return to the living room in the morning. The blanket I left for him is folded neatly on the armrest, and the pillow is fluffed, untouched. He’s gone.
I stare at the space where Darby had been last night, hoping for… what? A sign that he had second thoughts? My chest tightens because this is more proof that the only reason he came here last night was to seduce me into taking the job.
Not because he cared that Leo and I got home safe.
I tie my hair back and busy myself with making breakfast. The rhythmic crack of the whisk against the bowl is soothing, like white noise to drown out my thoughts.
The eggs sizzle in the pan, filling the kitchen with their warm, familiar smell.
I cut up an orange, the knife sliding easily through the soft flesh, and set the plates on the table.
When everything is ready, I take a deep breath and head down the hall to our bedroom.
His small body is tangled in the blankets, his dark brown hair a messy halo around his head. I smile despite myself. He looks so peaceful, his cheek pressed against the pillow, lips slightly parted.
“Leo, baby, time to wake up,” I whisper, brushing my fingers through his hair.
He stirs, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What time is it mom?”
“Time to wake up, freshen up, and have your favorite breakfast of eggs and oranges.”
His eyes light up. “Is Mr. Darby having breakfast with us?”
I freeze for a second, then sit on the edge of his bed. My heart squeezes at how he says Darby’s name as if they’ve been friends forever.
“No, sweetie. Darby had to leave early this morning.”
Leo pouts, his lips pushing out in that adorable way that usually makes me cave. “Why didn’t he say goodbye?”
“He probably didn’t want to wake us up,” I say softly. “It’s okay. I’m sure you’ll see him again.” I help him climb off the bed. “Come on, let’s get you ready for the day.”
I follow him to the bathroom, watching him grab his toothbrush with a sleepy grin.
While he brushes his teeth, I tidy up his room.
His clothes are scattered across the floor—his dinosaur pajamas are in one corner, and yesterday’s shirt is crumpled near the door.
I toss them into the laundry basket and straighten the bed.
As I pick up his backpack, something crinkles.
I unzip the front pocket and pull out a brightly colored flyer.
The words Annual School Camping Trip are printed in bold at the top, with smiling kids pictured around a campfire.
The date is set for a few weeks from now, and my stomach twists when I see the cost listed at the bottom.
Why didn’t Leo tell me about this?
I hear the bathroom door open, and he steps out, water droplets glistening on his face. His wet hair sticks to his forehead. I kneel in front of him, holding up the flyer.
“Leo,” I say gently. “Why didn’t you tell me about the camping trip?”
His eyes dart to the side. “I-I forgot,” he says, but his small hands fidget with a thread on his towel, a telltale sign he’s lying.
I cup his cheek, my thumb brushing lightly over his soft skin. “We don’t lie to each other, remember? You can tell me anything. I won’t be mad.”
He bites his lip and looks down. “I was scared,” he whispers.
“Scared of what, baby?”
“That we wouldn’t have enough money to go,” he says, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
My throat tightens, and I stare at him with wide eyes. How is he already worrying about something like this at his age? My heart is breaking so much that I don’t know what to do. I pull him into a hug.
“Leo, you never have to hide things like that from me. Okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
He nods against my shoulder, and I kiss the top of his head. “Now go get dressed, and I’ll be right there to help you.”
He walks to his closet to pick his outfit. I head to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. My hands tremble as I turn on the shower, the sound of running water filling the small space.
I undress and step under the stream, letting the hot water wash over me. My hair clings to my face, my skin burning from the heat, but it’s not enough to stop the tears. They fall silently, mixing with the water, as sobs shake my chest.
I press my hand against the cold tile, trying to steady myself.
Leo deserves so much more than this—more than a mother who has to check her bank account before saying yes to a camping trip, more than a house with cracks in the walls and eviction notices in the drawer.
This is the life we have. But I won’t let it remain this way. I can’t.
I take a few deep breaths and wipe my face, willing the tears to stop. The hot water is running low, and I know I can’t stay here forever.
I towel off quickly and throw on a clean shirt and jeans from my stack of clothes in the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror shows red-rimmed eyes, but I force a smile, practicing until it looks convincing.
Leo is sitting on the bed, struggling with the buttons on his shirt. I sit next to him and help him fasten the last few buttons.
“Mom, are you okay?” he asks, his small hand resting on mine.
I smile, even though my chest aches. “I’m perfect,” I say softly, and I have to be for him. “Let’s go eat breakfast before it gets cold.”
He grins, and for a moment, everything feels okay again. But deep down, I know the discovery I just made will follow me long after breakfast is over.
All my options are swirling around in my head. But, I only see one way to move forward from this. There’s nothing I won’t do for my son—absolutely nothing.
***
I step out of the Uber, smoothing my hands over my pants as I stare at the towering glass building—Darby’s empire.
The sleek exterior reflects the morning sunlight, creating sharp beams across the sidewalk.
The revolving glass doors spin nonstop as people flow in and out, dressed in tailored suits and polished shoes.
My throat tightens, but I remind myself why I must do this.
For Leo.
Working for this ad agency would definitely help me pay the bills and send Leo to camp. That is worth my working for a man I now despise.
And to be fair, Darby didn’t force me to do anything last night. Damn, I wanted him too.
I take Leo’s hand, and we walk toward the entrance. Leo didn’t have school today, so I had to bring him along. “I’ll be good. I will sit and read my stories until you come back,” he promises.
***
The receptionist sits behind a large marble desk in the lobby. Her red nails click against the keyboard as she types. She’s tall, with perfect makeup and sharp features that make her look like she belongs in a fashion magazine instead of answering phones. Is everyone in this office perfect?
“Good morning,” I say when I step in front of her. “I’m here to see Darby Stone.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks. She doesn’t even look up.
“No,” I admit, shifting awkwardly on my feet.
She sighs and finally lifts her gaze, sizing me up with a brief glance. “Mr. Stone doesn’t take walk-ins. You’ll have to schedule an appointment through his assistant.”
I swallow the lump of frustration in my throat. “I just need a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Selene?”
I spin around at the sound of my name and see Olivia walking toward me. Her warm smile hasn’t changed. She pulls me into a hug, and I can’t help but feel a little relief as her familiar perfume engulfs me.
“Olivia,” I breathe, hugging her back. “It’s been forever.”
“Too long,” she says, stepping back and assessing me. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. “You too. How’s married life treating you?”
A dreamy smile spreads across her face. “Garrett’s great. Our little girl keeps me busy, though. I’m convinced she’s trying to set a world record for staying awake.”
I laugh softly. “Sounds like a handful.”
“She is, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Olivia says, and I totally understand what she means. She turns to the receptionist and waves her hand dismissively. “She’s with me. It’s fine.”
The receptionist’s disapproving stare lingers for a second before she nods and returns to her work. Olivia loops her arm through mine and leads me toward the elevators.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Olivia says as the elevator doors slide shut. “You okay?”
“I’m…figuring things out,” I say, offering a small smile.
She doesn’t push for details, and I’m grateful. We reach our floor and walk down the corridor. The walls are lined with framed photos of high-profile ad campaigns and company milestones. Everything screams wealth, power, and precision.
We pass his assistant's desk, and before he can say anything, Olivia pulls another ‘she’s with me line,’ and we keep walking. She stops in front of a large set of double doors and gestures toward them. “Darby’s in there. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, squeezing her hand briefly before she walks away.
I take a deep breath, knock lightly, and push open the door.
Darby’s office is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline.
Sunlight spills into the room and bounces across the polished wooden floor.
A sleek glass desk sits in the center, flanked by modern leather chairs.
One wall is lined with bookshelves filled with awards, books, and memorabilia, including a framed photo of him and his brothers.
The room smells faintly of leather and expensive cologne.
Darby is standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the city.
His wavy chestnut hair catches the light, and for a moment, I’m reminded of the boy I fell in love with—the one who used to drive me around campus in his beat-up car, singing off-key to whatever song was on the radio.
When he turns and sees me, surprise flickers across his face. We stand there, the silence stretching between us like a bridge neither of us knows how to cross.
“I’m in,” I say, breaking the silence.
His green eyes widen slightly. “Really?”
I nod, stepping farther into the room. “I’ll take the job.”
Relief washes over his face, and he smiles. “I’ll have the contract drafted today.”
I hesitate, biting my lip. “But before we finalize anything, I need to know something.”
His brow furrows. “What is it?”
I take a step closer, my gaze never leaving his. “Why don’t you tell the world you saved a boy’s life? That would surely make everyone forget the other incident.”
He blinks, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
“You’re dealing with a PR disaster,” I say softly. “Saving a boy’s life would be the perfect way to shift public opinion. It would appeal to their emotions and make them see you as more than just some playboy CEO.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Selene—”
“It would work,” I press on, my voice firm. “Why didn’t you consider that instead of the stunt you pulled last night?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his shoulders tense. “Because your son could have really died. That was serious,” he says quietly. “And I might be an asshole, but I’m not going to use what happened to Leo as a tool to fix my reputation.”
My breath catches in my throat. For a moment, the room feels too small, the air too thick. I expected him to have a strategic reason, a calculated excuse. But this-this is raw and real.
And it’s the Darby I fell in love with.
I step closer until we’re standing only a foot apart. His gaze softens, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. I extend my hand, offering him the only gesture I can manage to bridge the gap between who we were and who we are now.
“Let’s seal the deal,” I say softly.
He hesitates, then takes my hand. His skin is warm against mine, and the touch sends a spark shooting up my arm. His grip is firm, but his fingers brush against the inside of my wrist, lingering longer than necessary.
My heart races, but I keep my expression neutral.
“Deal,” he says.
We don’t let go right away. The silence between us is filled with unspoken words, unfulfilled promises, and memories neither of us is ready to face.