The sale of the business takes up more of my time than I could have ever imagined. Marie has to step in and help babysit Olivia in the evenings, which means the only time I see Carly is first thing in the morning.

We cross paths with barely a word exchanged between us. I have more stimulating conversations with my secretary. Not that I can blame her. I acted like a complete tool, but it was for the best in the long run. I can’t get close to someone if they aren’t serious. Carly clearly isn’t. She can’t even bear the thought of me going to her house for a few hours. It would be okay if it was just me who stood to get hurt, but Carly was becoming like a mom to Olivia. I can’t have Olivia expecting to see Carly on the weekends as well. Not if she’s just going to up and leave the minute she meets a guy she’s genuinely interested in.

This is the last thing I need to be focused on when I’m trying to sell a business for nearly a hundred million dollars. I have to stay so late on Friday night that Olivia needs to stay over at Marie’s again. I stay up until three in the morning when I’m finally able to send my lawyers the latest batch of disclosures for them to pass on to Sandra’s lawyers.

By the time I wake up and get dressed, it’s nearly midday, so I meet Marie and Olivia for lunch downtown.

“Did that waitress seem a bit moody?” Marie asks after a young woman takes our order.

“It’s Saturday. She probably had a late night last night.”

“Still, a smile never hurts.”

We won’t be getting a smile out of our waitress today. Marie chose the restaurant, and she just happened to pick the one where Carly used to work, and where her roommate still does work. I met her roommate once—when she was wearing a mask—and I think that’s her. It would explain why I’m getting the cold shoulder treatment in a place that usually has good customer service.

“Is Carly coming over today?” Olivia asks as she plays with her Supergirl doll.

“No,” I reply. “She doesn’t work at weekends. You’ll see her on Monday.”

“What the hell happened with you two?” Marie asks.

“Nothing,” I reply.

“Don’t give me that. You two were spending loads of time together and now it’s like you’re avoiding her.”

“I’m busy with work.”

“You’re always busy with work.”

“This is on another level.”

“Look, I can tell there’s a problem. You’re grumpy as hell, and so is Carly. She puts on a brave face around Olivia, but I can tell she’s hurting.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. You’re my sister.”

“That never stops you telling me about all your little parties.”

“Birthday parties?” Olivia asks, half paying attention.

“Yes, sweetie,” I reply. “Birthday parties.”

“You owe me this information for all the crap I’ve had to listen to over the years.”

I sigh and play with the knife on the table just to have something to look at. “We want different things.”

Now it’s Marie’s turn to sigh. “Why don’t you give it a try with her? Look, I know you’re not one for relationships. Frankly, I’m amazed you ever got married. But you can’t avoid them all your life. You never know, you might actually enjoy the tamer side of life. It’s not as boring as it looks, you know. Love can be exciting.”

“You’re assuming I’m the one who doesn’t want commitment.”

“Well, no offense, but your track record would suggest that’s the case. Wait, are you saying it’s Carly that doesn’t want to commit.” I nod my head. “Holy shit. Are you sure? Because she looked like a heartbroken woman this week.”

“She’s into… you know… ‘birthday parties.’ She’s not into me. Not that way.”

I give Marie a censored and highly edited version of the events that led up to Carly storming out of the house.

“Sounds like you acted like a tool,” Marie says, as a new waiter brings over our drinks. At least he might not have spit in them.

“I didn’t handle it brilliantly,” I admit. “But what’s the alternative? Should I have carried on having fun with Carly until she met a guy she really cared about?”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Give her a chance to get to know the real you. So far, she thinks you’re a multi-millionaire playboy who likes to tie women up and do God-only-knows-what to them. I’d bet good money she convinced herself you were not an option the moment she met you. You need to apologize and show her that there’s more to you than whips and… things.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late for that. Anyway, it’s not just me I need to worry about. Carly was hanging around at weekends and spending loads of time with Olivia.”

“Yeah, that’s a really weird thing for a babysitter to do.”

“Very funny. I don’t want Olivia thinking Carly is her mother if she’s going to disappear after we have one fight.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to use your daughter as an excuse. Carly has been there every day this week and worked plenty of overtime even though you treated her like shit. Admit it, you’re the one who’s scared of getting hurt.”

“I’m not the type to get scared,” I reply.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

I’ve been hurt before. I can handle it. It’s Olivia I’m worried about. She has no memories of her biological mother, so if Carly is still around in a year’s time, she’s going to be the first mother figure Olivia forms proper memories of. Carly’s incredible with Olivia, but she ran off the second we had a fight. I can’t rely on her to stick around for Olivia when things get difficult and that means she can’t be a part of our lives.

“Can we change the subject?” I ask. “We shouldn’t talk about this in front of you-know-who.”

“Okay. I’m right, though. You need to apologize and talk to her. Like a grown-up.”

“You’re not changing the subject.”

“Fine. How’s the sale going?”

I’m about to reply ‘don’t ask’ but I’d much rather talk about business than the situation with Carly.

“It’s tough,” I reply. “We dumped five years’ worth of financial information on Sandra’s team, which I figured would buy us some time. Unfortunately, they have a huge team of lawyers who processed the information in days. I’ve got more questions from them than I ever got from five years of audits. I’m expected to remember conversations I had four years ago. It’s ridiculous.”

“You never did have a good memory.”

“I’m tempted to give them the password to my email account and tell them to go nuts. At least that way they can’t pretend I’m holding anything back.”

“How long will this drag on for?”

“We’re supposed to complete in three weeks. I’m torn between wanting to drag it out a little more so that things aren’t so rushed, and just wanting the damn thing over with.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing. You’re going to pocket a small fortune from this.”

“I’m not exactly broke now.”

“True. But this is a life-changing amount of money. You’ll be able to kick back and relax. You can take as many vacations as you like. Of course, that would be more fun if you had someone to share them with….”

“Very subtle.”

When the food arrives, I look at it suspiciously in case Tami did anything to it. It looks normal enough. I cut up Olivia’s chicken nuggets for her, but she doesn’t look particularly interested.

“Come on, sweetie, you love chicken nuggets.”

“I’m not hungry,” she replies. She takes the fork anyway and shoves a tiny piece of chicken in her mouth. She chews it slowly instead of practically inhaling it down like usual, so she’s probably telling the truth instead of just being stubborn.

“How about we get some ketchup on them?” Marie asks. Olivia considers this briefly and then nods.

This restaurant considers itself too upmarket to put tomato ketchup on the table, so Marie tries to get the attention of a waiter.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll go get some.”

I stand up and head straight past our waiter to the back of the restaurant where Tami is standing by the cash register processing a check. She looks up at me, and then back down at the cash register.

“I take it you know who I am?” I ask.

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“That’s a ‘yes.’ then. I want you to do me a favor. Two actually.”

“Why not make it three?”

“First, can I have some tomato ketchup?”

Tami rolls her eyes, but reaches into a nearby cupboard and hands me a bottle. “What else?”

“Carly mentioned that you read her draft script.”

Tami frowns. “Yeah. So?”

“I want a copy.”

“Then I suggest you ask Carly.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not,” I reply. Tami stares at me silently. “Okay, fine. Because I’m a piece of shit and she barely talks to me. Happy now?”

“I’ll email you a copy if it’s okay with Carly.”

I hand her my business card. “I’d rather you didn’t tell her.”

“I’m not going behind her back. Not for you.”

“Look, I don’t know what she’s told you but—”

I stop mid-sentence when a woman’s scream pierces the room. I ignore it at first. This is LA—it’s not unusual for people to be a touch dramatic. Then I notice a look of concern on Tami’s face and hear a word that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Olivia?” Marie screams out, in a terrified voice.

I rush back to our table, still hopelessly clutching a bottle of tomato ketchup.

A woman is already dialing 911 when I see my baby girl lying on the floor unconscious, blood pooling on the floor under her head.