The conversation with my mother taints the rest of the day. It’s difficult enough running a company this size, especially with Kevin gone, without adding this mess with Simone, Stuart, and my mother to the mix.

After handling a few urgent priorities, I circle back to this issue of guardianship. The thing with the tape is a loose end I don’t particularly like.

Josh was useless. The thing with the other woman, Glory, is definitely worth looking into. I put in a call to Mike to have his people dig up what they can about her as well.

I feel the angry rumble in my stomach and look down at my watch to find that it’s well past two o’clock. I haven’t eaten a thing today. I spin around in my chair and look out of my windows. It’s still spring and probably nice out there. Frankly, I could use the fresh air, or as fresh as one can get in downtown New York.

When I exit my office, the first thing I see is a large bouquet of flowers on Agnes’s desk.

“Looks like you have an admirer,” I say, staring at the tasteful display of…lilacs? I’m hopeless when it comes to flowers.

She jumps in surprise and stares at me with something approaching fear. “Oh, Mr. Bennett. They—they just arrived. I wasn’t expecting them at all, but don’t worry, I’ll be taking them home today. I know how you feel about this sort of thing. It’s just that—” she stares up at them longingly, and that’s when I see the slow but violent red creep of a blush blossoming up her neck and coloring her cheeks—”they’re so lovely.”

I stare at her with amusement. So she has an admirer. I take a good look at her. Thanks to Simone’s makeover from a while ago, she isn’t too shabby. In fact, with that color on her cheeks, she’s actually somewhat attractive.

“Nonsense,” I say, turning my attention to the flowers. “They actually brighten the place up. You can keep them here an extra day or two if you like.”

Now that I’ve said it, I can see it’s true. Granted, they are a far cry from the gaudy display of her birthday bouquet, but they do make the office look a little less severe.

I look at Agnes’s face, still glowing with secret pleasure. I think about Simone this morning.

Flowers.

“Actually, I think I might just buy some myself,” I say. “Do you mind my asking where they came from?”

“Oh,” She says, a hand coming to her mouth in surprise. Her face is beet red by now, which has me even more curious about who this admirer of hers is. “Um, I suppose.”

She plucks the card out from the holder and hands it to me, her face practically exploding with flames. I give her a teasing smile as I peek to see who they are from.

Beau. The name rings a bell. Then it hits me. I look down at her, impressed.

“Simone was the one to introduce us,” she says quickly, as though she needs an explanation.

“She is a woman of many talents.”

“She’s wonderful,” Agnes’s gushes.

“That she is,” I muse, which elicits a look of surprise from my secretary. It’s no wonder. The last time she saw the two of us together, we were practically at each other’s throats.

I look at the name of the shop on the back of the card and hand it back to her.

“Thank you, Agnes.”

“Of course, Mr. Bennett.” She blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing as though wanting to say something.

“Was there something else?” I urge.

“From what I understand…I think tulips would be a good idea. Pink. They’re her favorite.”

I have trouble keeping the smile from my lips as I nod in acknowledgment. “That’s good to know, Agnes.”

* * *

Flowers.

Usually, flowers are sent, via Agnes, as a parting gift for the rare woman I’ve spent more than one night with. Now, I’m using them for an altogether different purpose.

I’m home in time for dinner again, at least I hope so. This time I’ve come bearing two dozen tulips, all pink. As I approach my apartment, I can hear the sound of music playing on the other side. Tonight it sounds like the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever of all things.

I wrinkle my brow with a confused smile as I open the door. Sure enough the Bee Gees are vocally assuring anyone within hearing range that they are indeed Stayin’ Alive.

RiRi is there to greet me. Tonight I’ve earned a soft yip, barely audible above the music. I suppose that’s progress.

“No, it’s like this, Stuart.”

I follow the dog toward the sound of her voice over the music, which is thankfully less ear-splitting tonight, in the living room. When I get there, Stuart and Simone are in the middle of the floor as she points up and down, shaking her hips in the trademark dance move that the movie is known for.

RiRi stands next to me and I lean against the wall as we both observe the two of them before they notice us. Today, Simone is in a tank top and a long pair of casual pants with PINK across the bottom. I say a secret prayer to the gods of Victoria’s Secret as I watch her ass move back and forth.

“That’s silly,” Stuart says, laughing.

“Excuse me, mister,” She says, putting her hands on her hips, “it’s classic. Your grandmother used to live for disco.”

The smile on my face softens at that. I recall what she said only a few nights ago about family. You don’t want to wait until everyone is gone before you begin to appreciate them.

“Uncle Archer!” Stuart says, finally noticing me.

He runs over and grabs me around the knees. “Are we going to Shake Shack again?”

Simone spins around in surprise, then bites her lip with a smile when she sees the flowers.

“You’re home early again,” she says, walking over.

“I thought I’d join you two for dinner.”

“And he comes bearing flowers,” she says, looking down at the bouquet in my hands.

“Guilty as charged,” I say, presenting them to her.

She laughs as she takes them, then gives me a warning look. “Don’t think this means we’re eating junk food again tonight. One day out of the week is enough.”

“Ohhh—” Stuart complains.

“No,” she says, shifting that look down to him. “You two had your way once already. Tonight it’s veggie lasagna. Speaking of which, maybe we can get Uncle Archer to help us make it.”

She looks up at me with a smile that tells me I’m already on the hook for dinner prep. I return one that says I’m happy to oblige.

* * *

“Okay,” Simone says, rolling her eyes up to think. “Never have I ever…been to Paris.”

Both Stuart and I raise our hands.

“Really?” she asks in surprise, mostly directed my way. “Both of you have been?”

“Mummy and Daddy took me last year,” Stuart says, placing a noodle in the dish on the counter before us.

He’s on a stool, in charge of the long noodles for our lasagna. I’m in charge of scooping out the veggie mix while Simone is tasked with spreading the cheese layer.

We both look at him to see if the mention of his parents has affected him any, but he seems more preoccupied with getting the layer of noodles just right.

“I know about your trip, you lucky boy” she says, poking him in the rib and making him laugh. She then brings her attention to me. “But I’m surprised to see that you’ve been.”

“Strictly business,” I say, which is true. There was no going to the top of the Eiffel Tower or visiting the Louvre.

“Of course it was,” she says rolling her eyes. Then she sighs. “Still, I’m dying to visit. It’s such a romantic city.”

I don’t recall it being any such thing, but admittedly I was looking through a different lens at the time.

“Okay, Uncle Archer’s turn,” she says.

“Hmm,” I say, thinking about what I’ve never done. “Never have I ever been to the top of the Empire State Building.”

“Really?” Simone asks in surprise, raising her hand. “You’ve lived here all this time and you’ve never been?”

I just shrug and spread the mix in my bowl on top of the noodles Stuart has just placed down. The idea of going to the top of that particular tourist trap has never even remotely appealed to me.

“Well,” she looks down at Stuart, “I think we need to take Uncle Archer to the top of the Empire State Building, that way you can both see it for the first time.”

“Can we?” he asks excitedly.

“How about this weekend?” she suggests, mostly looking my way for confirmation.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say with a grin. I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to it.

When the lasagna is done being prepped, we stick it in the oven and settle in the living room to watch a movie called The Incredibles that Simone orders online since Stuart said it was his favorite. It’s actually a damn good movie.

The lasagna turns out to be halfway decent as well. Not something that I would normally order for myself, but the hour-long conversation while eating more than made up for it. Everything from baseball to favorite animals to Beyoncé’s best songs are discussed. I’m used to eating take-out while poring over prospectuses and client profiles, so this is a drastic change. And now that I’ve experienced it, I can’t imagine going back.

Soon enough, Simone will find out that my mother is dropping the suit against us. How will that change things? Will she still want a divorce? Will she still want to live here?

I let it go, enjoying the rest of the evening. Nights like this may not last long.

Simone takes charge of helping Stuart get ready for his bath while I take care of clearing the table and getting started on the dishes. While he’s busy in the bath, she comes out to help me wash and rinse.

“I think it’s great that you’re coming home for dinner,” she says, handing me a freshly washed dish to rinse.

“Is that your subtle way of telling me I should do it every day?” I ask with a grin.

“You seemed to have a pretty good time tonight,” she says, grinning right back at me.

“Well, I do have to say I learned quite a bit about Paddington’s Adventures. Very stimulating stuff.”

She flicks soap at me. I swipe at the running faucet, splattering water on her.

“Hey! watch the hair!” she warns, flicking me with another round of soap suds.

Stuart calls out to announce that he’s finished and is ready for bed.

“Your turn,” she says.

I let out a mock groan, and she gives me one last attack of soap suds as I go.

He’s already in his bath robe when I make it to the bathroom. I grab a towel and dry off his hair. The faux hawk has almost grown out by now and the purple has mostly faded.

“Alright, Stuart, you ready for the final adventures with Mr. Toad?” I ask with a grin.

He nods eagerly then takes my hand dragging me to his bedroom. I pretend to let him even though I’m about three times his size. By the time he gets into his pajamas and we get settled into bed, complete with RiRi tucked into his lap, I’m almost too exhausted to read. Still, we manage to finish the last of it before he falls asleep. By the time I pull myself out of bed and tuck him in, I’m practically a walking zombie. I give the two of them one last smile as I dim the lights and close the door.

The sight of Simone leaning against the wall in the hallway is enough to perk me right up.

“It’s my turn to get tucked in,” she whispers with a grin.

“Well, it does seem to be my specialty,” I say.

She laughs softly then takes my hand, dragging me toward my bedroom.