The day started as it always did.

Knock, knock, knock. “Aunt Cari! Aunt Cari!”

I turned my face to the pillow and muttered a curse. Sometimes, I just couldn’t hold it in. “Yeah, bud?”

“I’m up!” Every morning. He had to announce it every morning. Just in case I forgot he was there.

I rolled onto my back, rubbing my eyes. How was it possibly morning already? Never my favorite time of day. Especially with a living, breathing alarm clock waking me at the crack of dawn on the daily.

I took a deep breath and made sure to inject a little light into my voice before calling out. “Okay, buddy. Good morning. I’ll be out soon.”

“You want me to make your coffee?”

Just when I was sure my stint as his guardian would send me to the loony bin, he said something like that.

I giggled softly. “No, thank you, sweets. I’ll do it in a little bit when I come out to fix breakfast.”

I wasn’t sleepy or desperate enough to agree to letting a five-year-old work the coffee maker. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he ran to the living room and flipped on the TV. He ran everywhere. I was sure the downstairs neighbors were in love with that tendency. They were already on my Christmas shopping list, even two months out.

I sat up with a groan. My head was in a fog, with the last fading impressions of a dream clinging hard. I wanted to go back to it, even though it didn’t make any sense. I wouldn’t have told my best friends about it, it was that embarrassing. I had been on the back of a dragon, flying through the sky in the middle of the night. I could still envision the moonlight glinting off the dragon’s scales. It was so stupid.

Stupid or not, it was better than waking up in a chilly apartment with the sun barely peeking over the treetops. At least the chill in the air helped wake me up a little. I rubbed my arms briskly before reaching for my bathrobe, lying across the foot of the bed. I should’ve paid closer attention to the weather forecast and adjusted the heat before I went to bed. Poor kid must’ve been freezing all night. Another way for me to feel like I was coming up short. There was always something.

Some ridiculous kids’ show was on, the theme song reaching my room as I belted my robe and slid into slippers, then made up my bed.

I remembered the days when the morning news was the soundtrack to my routine. In a way, cartoons were better. At least, I didn’t start the day off in a bad mood after hearing all the negativity, reports of murder and robbery and other depressing facts about living just outside D.C. When Tommy asked if he could watch his favorite shows over breakfast I hadn’t hesitated before agreeing. He didn’t need to know the truth of the world at his age.

He already knew too much.

I twisted my long, dark-blonde hair into a bun on top of my head as I walked out to the bathroom. He’d already been in there, as evidenced by the raised toilet seat and the toothpaste he’d left all over the sink.

At least he brushed his teeth, I thought with a grimace as I lowered the seat.

Had it really been eight months already? The longest of my life. The most rewarding, too. Even more rewarding than my work, which used to be all that mattered. I hadn’t known the first thing about raising kids before the state dropped him off at my front door, and I still didn’t know half of what I felt I should. Then again, who did when they had their first child? I reminded myself of that every time I felt like I was failing Tommy.

I couldn’t fail him any more than his mother had.

The thought of Christine made my chest ache, the way it always did. I hadn’t been to see her since just after sentencing, when she’d moved to a women’s prison in Maryland.

It hurt too much for her to see me—or, rather, for me to see her. I could still hear her words ringing in my ears, the last thing she’d said just before I walked out of the common room where inmates and visitors could spend time together. Please, don’t visit anymore. Take care of my boy, send me pictures. But I can’t stand you seeing me this way.

She hadn’t even looked like herself. Not the Christine I knew. Her beautiful hair had looked lank and dirty, pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her blue eyes used to sparkle, but they had looked dull over the dark circles which ringed them. She’d always been thin, but she must have lost another ten pounds. On her tiny frame, that made a big difference.

I looked at myself in the mirror hanging over the sink and saw all the similarities we’d always shared. Same hair, same eyes, same peaches-and-cream complexion. Granted, long hours spent slaving under fluorescent lighting hadn’t done my color any favors, either, but I was a runway model compared to Chrissie that day. Would she ever go back to the funny, sweet girl she used to be?

“Aunt Cari!” Tommy’s insistent cries cut through my dark thoughts. I couldn’t afford to spend time asking pointless questions. They didn’t put breakfast on the table.

“Sorry, sorry,” I called out as I hurried down the hall, lined on both sides with photos of the family in better days. “I didn’t forget about you.” I got to the kitchen in time to find him standing on a chair in front of the counter, reaching up for the cereal.

“I wanted to help,” he insisted as I hauled him off the chair.

“You’d think you never ate before, kiddo. You ate two helpings of chili last night.”

“I musta had lots of dreams that I was running and fighting when I was sleeping!” He showed off a few would-be karate kicks and punches. “It made me so hungry!”

“If I could bottle even some of your energy…” I murmured with a rueful grin as I poured him a bowl of cereal and milk, topped with banana slices.

He was still too young to cringe away when I kissed the top of his head and ruffled his golden hair. It wouldn’t be much longer, though. I didn’t have to be his biological mother to dread that phase like I’d dread a root canal.

Fresh, hot coffee went the rest of the way toward giving me the strength to get the day started. At least it was Friday. That never used to matter—I’d work through the week, regardless of which day it was. Interesting how eight months of having no choice but to take the weekend off or shell out cash for an all-day babysitter had realigned my priorities. I didn’t like the idea of leaving him with a stranger, either. He needed structure, habits, security.

“You have all your homework papers in your folder, right?” I asked as I sat with my own cereal.

“Yup. Put ‘em in last night.” His attention was on the TV, visible from the kitchen table thanks to the apartment’s open layout.

“Hey, buddy.” I tapped his arm. “You’re talking to me, you’re looking at me. Remember? I’m not the TV.”

He turned my way. “Sorry.”

When he looked glum like that, I couldn’t be stern. He was a good kid. He genuinely hated when he did something to make me sound sharp with him.

“It’s okay. And your folder is in your backpack?”

“Hmm. That’s a good question.”

I bit back a smile at his serious tone of voice and listened as he launched into a story about one of his friends and how his parents were getting him an iPhone for his birthday. A five-year-old getting an iPhone? Was I hopelessly out-of-touch, or was that way too young?

Tommy didn’t sound envious. He was only telling me a story. But the day would come when he’d want one, too, just like he’d stop letting me kiss the top of his head. The thought made my pulse race sickeningly fast. I had no idea what to do when that time came. He got up and put his bowl in the sink, then promised to double check that he had his homework folder packed while I drowned in self-doubt.

Think of it as a project at the lab. How would I approach something scientifically? Easy: I’d keep in mind the potential outcomes but wouldn’t react unless and until one of them came up. If I worried, I’d take my concentration off the work I was doing, and that would only heighten the probability of making a mistake. What would be a mistake with Tommy? Easy. Missing out on the happy, mundane present moments because I was preoccupied with the future.

I shook off my doubts and forced myself into the present, where Tommy was karate kicking along with his cartoon. “Easy, buddy. Try not to break anything while I’m getting ready.” Toddler-proofing was one thing. How did a person who’d lived alone for years suddenly childproof their apartment for a five-year-old boy?

I took a quick shower and dressed in my typical uniform: black pants, a black turtleneck, leopard-print flats. My shoes were my one little bit of personality in an otherwise boring wardrobe.

“How come you always wear the same clothes?”

I jumped when I heard Tommy’s question from the doorway as I was putting on a little makeup, then closed my eyes with a sigh. He went from galloping around the place to tiptoeing as silent as a ghost.

“They’re not the same clothes. Not really. Lots of different things, but mostly gray and black.”

“But how come?”

I eyed him up in the mirror. “Because not everybody can pull off a sweatshirt with a Minecraft character on the front,” I said, and he chuckled and looked down at the shirt he’d chosen for that day. “You know why I wear the same sort of things all the time? Because it’s one less thing to think about in the morning. I don’t have to plan what I’ll wear, since almost everything goes with everything else. A shirt, a pair of pants, and I’m good to go. I can spend time thinking about important things, instead.”

“Hmm.” He nodded slowly, like he was mulling it over.

The thing was, I knew he wasn’t pretending. He was the most thoughtful, analytical child I had ever come into contact with. Maybe it was genetic—from me, not Chrissie. She was the artistic one.

His eyes lit up. “I think I’ll start doing that, too.”

“Yeah?” I turned to him, leaning against the sink with my arms folded. “You think you could give up all those cool shirts you have?”

He shrugged. “They’re just shirts.”

“Okay. We can go shopping this weekend, if you want.” I barely hid my smile as I turned back to the mirror. He never ceased to make me laugh.

* * *

“Any big plans this weekend?” I closed my eyes and prayed for strength before glancing over my shoulder with a smile. I needed to stop making coffee in the lab cafeteria. It saved cash, but it didn’t save my patience.

“The usual. Whatever the kid needs,” I replied to Ryan as he sidled up next to me.

“That’s what you say every Friday,” he grinned.

He thought he was sexy. I might have thought he was, too, way back when. Before I grew up a little and figured out that guys like him were a dime a dozen. He was gorgeous, he drove a great car, and even a white lab coat didn’t hide the kickass body underneath.

He did nothing for me.

“Because it’s true,” I shrugged with a little smile.

I didn’t want to create an uncomfortable working relationship, and gossip at the lab spread like wildfire. I was sure he’d badmouth the hell out of me if I flat-out turned him down. As always, the unfairness of gender politics in the workplace made my blood boil. I had worked too hard to be taken seriously as a scientist to let some meathead ruin my reputation—no matter how jacked he was.

“You’re too young to stop having fun.”

“I didn’t say I wasn't having fun,” I countered as my coffee finished brewing. “I’ll take my nephew shopping. Maybe we’ll go to the mall and pitch pennies into the fountain. Maybe I’ll take him for ice cream. And Halloween’s in a few weeks—we can look for costumes, and decorations for the apartment. I never had a reason to decorate before now.”

Funny, but listing all those things inspired genuine excitement. I found myself smiling wider all the time.

He frowned like I had just lapsed into Klingon. “To each their own, I guess.”

“I guess,” I shrugged, and the smile slid off my face the second my back was to him.

Insufferable. Arrogant. Jerk. Every time he pulled something like that, which was just about every Friday—followed up by a recap on Monday morning—he came just one step closer to my telling him off.

I hoped I’d score my promotion before that point ever came and leave him behind. My soft-soled shoes slapped against the tile floor as I marched down the white-walled tunnel back to my workstation. If any of the other lab assistants who worked in my section smiled or waved, I didn’t notice.

I slammed the cup down at my station when I thought again about how a man wouldn’t have to worry about his reputation if he turned down a colleague. And he made it sound like there was something wrong with me because I loved my nephew. The kid needed me. I was the only stability in his life. What was so bad about that?

When the phone rang, I jerked the receiver out of its cradle. When would we upgrade the phone system from an old-fashioned landline?

“Yes?” I barked, still in a mood.

“Excuse me?” Harrison asked, sounding bemused.

I winced. “I’m sorry. I was lost in my head.”

“Not the best place for a researcher to reside,” he observed with a dry chuckle.

I knew he didn’t think it was funny. It was his version of a reprimand. The King of Passive Aggressiveness. Sometimes, I wished he were more of a straight-shooter. Just tell me where I stand and get it over with.

My heart skipped a beat when I realized he might be calling about the promotion. The committee was supposed to announce it the following Monday, but rumor had it the decision had already been made. I crossed my fingers.

“What can I do for you?”

“I hoped you could join me in my office for a few minutes. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

I was off the phone and halfway down the hall in the blink of an eye. So what if I looked desperate? I was.

I had worked at the lab for six years with the intention of leading my own research team one day. When a team leader had announced early retirement, I’d jumped at the chance to put my name in for consideration. I’d be the youngest team leader in the organization. And the only woman.

The door to Harrison’s office was open when I arrived, and he waved me inside. “Please, close the door.”

A good sign. I tried to control my excitement.

“How’s it going?” I asked as I sat, folding my hands in my lap and pressing my clammy palms together as hard as I could.

“Pretty well,” he smiled, wiping his glasses on his necktie. A habit of his. “And you?”

“Very well.” Get on with it, get on with it.

“You didn’t sound well when you answered the phone,” he reminded me.

He sounded like a disappointed father. I knew all about that.

“Everything’s fine,” I assured him. “It’s not worth getting into.”

He nodded sagely. “Understood. Your private life is your own.” How generous of him. “And you’re set to deliver reports on this week’s work at the end of the day?”

“As always.” My skin practically tingled with anticipation.

He was asking if I was ready to move on, if my research was properly documented so another employee could come in and pick up where I’d left off and inject even more lab rats with even more solutions to chart their reactions and tweak the formulas accordingly. It was all falling into place. I could see myself standing in front of a room of team members, all of them taking notes on my instructions. Sitting in a desk like Harrison’s, calling people in for meetings to discuss their progress.

His bald head gleamed in the overhead light as he bent over a file which he’d spread out across his desk. “That’s good news, because I’m about to ask you to move onto a new project.”

I blinked. That didn’t sound promising. “Excuse me?”

“A new project. Sort of… outside the realm of what we normally work on around here.”

Another blink. I waited for more, until I figured out that he was waiting for me to respond. “Outside how?”

“You won’t be filing reports, for one. Your work would be secret.” He dropped his voice at the last word.

Secret. I would be doing secret work.

“All right. Where? Doing what?” I resolved not to overreact when I didn’t know all the facts, even as all I could think about were my rats and my research and all the work I’d done to put together the inoculations they’d been injected with. Not that I imagined curing cancer or anything like that, but my work was important. My heart was in it. I didn’t want to give it up.

“I haven’t received many details,” he admitted, “but an old friend of mine contacted me this morning, asking if I had a researcher I trusted with highly confidential work such as this. You were the first and only person who came to mind.”

Was I supposed to be flattered? It was obvious that he thought I should be. He expected me to thank him, to promise I would do him proud. All I wanted to do was cry, while he sat there smiling.

“What am I supposed to do?” I whispered as tears threatened to choke me.

I forced them back. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. Women of science didn’t break down in tears over the slightest disappointment—at least, not outside the ladies’ room, tucked back in the last stall where nobody could see them.

“You’ll be reporting to a new compound just beyond the Maryland-Virginia border. I already did the research, and it isn’t any further from home than our facilities. It seems like this is a perfect fit for you.”

I practically gagged on my frustration. Yes, because the length of my commute was all I considered.

“My friend will contact you over the weekend, with all the details you need. She wouldn’t give them to me. I don’t rank.” His broad wink turned my stomach.

“She already knows how to contact me, when you’re only telling me about it now? I suppose there isn’t much choice as to whether or not I’ll go through with it, then.” I stood, ready to leave. If I stayed around much longer, I’d make a fool of myself.

“Carissa.” His thin mouth curved into a frown. “Please, don’t take this as a demotion. This is a promotion, if anything.”

“It’s not the promotion I had in mind.” It was unprofessional for me to admit something like that, but I was tired of holding my tongue.

If I had all weekend and thought about nothing else, I probably wouldn’t be able to list all the many times I had kept quiet in favor of professionalism. When Jorge, one of my former lab partners, told me I’d be so much prettier if I would just smile more. When Kenneth, a manager old enough to be my father, asked why I didn’t wear more feminine clothing. Ryan’s incessant attempts to ingratiate himself.

Not to mention all the times I’d stayed late, come in early, typed reports until my eyes crossed and my back ached from sitting at my laptop for endless hours while my lab mates had long since left for the day. I had swallowed it all with a bitter smile and told myself it would pay off when I earned my own team.

I stared at Harrison, choking back tears of rage and disappointment, but what I saw was my dreams dissolving.

“I know you’re disappointed, but believe me. Take this at more than face value. This is a big step up for you.”

“What happens when the work is complete? Will I come back here? Will my job be waiting for me?”

“There’s no guarantee that it ever will be complete,” he admitted. “Again, you’ll have to get that information from my friend. Mary, her name is. You can ask her all these questions. She’ll also have salary information and anything else you need.”

I could only nod in resignation. There was no room for me to argue my case.

As usual, I had to fall in line and pretend to be okay with having no control over my life.