Chapter Six
Adam straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. A quick flashback to his high school days and being sent to the principal’s office for fighting gave him a jolt. Fuck. It felt no better then than it did right this minute. And once again, it wasn’t his fault. He knocked once.
“Come in.”
Neal Morganstern sat behind his desk like he was holding court. For a man coming up on sixty, he wore his age well.
“Shut the door and have a seat,” his boss said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs in front of the absurdly expensive and ornate Queen Anne desk that his fourth wife had chosen.
“I spoke to Davison. He’s thrilled to be working with us,” Adam said as he unbuttoned his suit coat and sat. Start with the good.
“Yes. Nice job on that. It’s a pity we can’t say the same about Creston Tires.”
Adam refused to cringe. He sat straighter. He wasn’t seventeen and defending his drunken father’s name. He was a successful account manager. A father. And damn good at both jobs.
“They’d made the decision before I arrived in Chicago, sir.”
Neal sat forward, folding his hands on his desk. The thick dusting of facial hair on his chin was coming in gray. “Your job was to change their minds.”
Easier said than done. “That was my intention, but Creston ended up going with the daughter’s fiancé. Regardless of what approach I took, he wasn’t going to be swayed.”
“If you walk into a meeting certain you’re going to fail, you will. Rogers brought in the Fidelity Software account,” Neal said.
“Taunted” was a better word. Like his boss was pitting two siblings against each other—only one would get ultimate approval. He knew Morganstern wasn’t rooting for him, but other partners were. The soda account was worth double what the software account was.
“That’s excellent,” Adam said, leaning back in the chair and crossing his ankle over his knee. “It’s a good starter account.”
Morganstern’s eyes widened, then he gave a gruff laugh. “Then you’re still vying for partner?”
“You know I am, sir. And I can guarantee I want it more than Rogers.”
Not only was Rogers an arrogant dickhead, he didn’t have as much on the line as Adam. The guy came from money and talking about it was one of his favorite pastimes. He didn’t have an ex-wife who horded her alimony checks in case the work dried up, and he didn’t worry every single night that he’d let his son down, that he wouldn’t be able to give him the security and happiness he deserved.
“I guess we’ll see. It looks like you’ll have a chance to prove it. William Barton is going to be in New York for three days for his granddaughter’s graduation. Thursday to Saturday this week. He’s looking for a new firm for his restaurant franchise. You close that kind of client and I don’t see how the partners could choose Rogers over you.”
Friday. Why was Friday stuck in his head? “I’ll have to give them reason not to.”
Neal stood up, essentially dismissing Adam. “I want actions, not words, on this one.”
Adam got up from the chair. “Yes, sir.”
He walked out of his boss’s office and back to his own. Closing the door, he resisted the urge to swear or punch something. He was constantly having to prove himself, and while that’d been fine in the beginning, he found it tiresome. That’s your job. Deal with it. You want to advance or not?
“Or not” wasn’t an option. He reminded himself it was all for Charlie. That thought motivated him for the rest of the day.
…
Adam tried to make it home no later than six even when it meant working for several hours from home. It was tough to balance the demanding hours with not wanting to be the absent father he’d had. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure how great he was doing on that score, but Charlie seemed happy, so he hung on to that. Because I have Megan. He thought of the night before…of Megan asking him intimate questions and how it had seemed almost fun. Something he had very little of in his life, outside of Charlie. When he came into the house, he was surprised by the quiet that greeted him.
Something smelled delicious, but the only light on in the kitchen was the one over the stove. On the table sat a note from Megan and a folder.
Charlie begged to go to Danny’s. His mom will drop C off at six thirty. Check out the folder. The future Mrs. Klein might be in there. At home if you need me, otherwise see you tomorrow.
M
Danny? Danny. Same grade, different class. On Charlie’s baseball team. Adam’s fingers tapped the beige folder. The future Mrs. Klein. Words he never thought he’d think or say again. Leaving the folder, he shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the chair, and went to the stove to see what smelled so good. In the oven, Megan had left a large homemade pepperoni pizza. His stomach growled.
Megan was a godsend. He didn’t like to think about her leaving. It also didn’t escape his notice that she checked most of the boxes on his list. Just not the most important ones. A woman like Megan would suffocate in a marriage that didn’t revolve around love. Adam would never survive another one that did. Because love wasn’t something he could count on. It was an overindulgence of emotions that could change on a whim.
He could tell Megan that—ask her to be the woman he was looking for—but the fact that he could fall for her scared him too much. Besides, she deserved a chance to find out what love did to a person’s soul. He didn’t relish the thought of her being hurt, but everyone had to learn for themselves—love didn’t secure forever. Realistic expectations and well-outlined plans were his only chance at a successful relationship.
Using the oven mitts, he pulled out the pizza and set it on the stove. Ditching the mitts, he picked up a slice, his mouth watering at the strings of cheese, and took a bite of the still-warm pie. He sighed. Adam could cook—he’d been known to put a decent meal together—but everything tasted better when someone else made it. Megan was a freaking domestic goddess. It wasn’t just about how she knew their favorite meals or how she took the time to put smiley faces on Charlie’s sandwiches—it was the fact that she did it for them at all. It mattered to her. They mattered to her. An uncomfortable ache pressed against his ribs. How the hell was he going to replace her? Folder on the table. That’s how. He glanced at it but stayed where he was, scooping up another bite. Charlie would be home any minute. He would look at the folder later.
Charlie came through the door ten minutes later as Adam was pouring milk for both of them.
“Hey, Dad. Where’s Megan?”
He’d already hung up his backpack and came in with his planner and a couple of papers. Putting them on the table, Charlie stopped in front of Adam for a hug.
“She’s at home. She left a note saying you were on a playdate. She also left us dinner. Pizza. Lucky guys, right?”
Charlie nodded, a strange look on his face. “For now. Till she leaves. And Dad, it’s not a playdate. I’m not four.”
Adam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Charlie’s serious expression.
“Right. My bad. Wash your hands and let’s eat. You have homework?”
Charlie walked to the sink and stood on the stool Megan kept there for him. “It’s the last week of school. They can’t give us homework.”
“Good point.” Adam opened Charlie’s planner and scanned it. He hadn’t broached the topic of switching schools with his son yet but would have to soon because September enrollment required an interview over the summer.
There was a thin strip of paper stapled to Friday. Last day, class production at 11:00 a.m. All parents/caregivers welcome. Adam closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, Charlie was pulling out his chair and sitting down.
“You think Megan will really come back and visit, Dad?”
Adam blinked and looked at his son. With dark hair and eyes like his own, Charlie favored him. But he had his mother’s nose and, now and again, her smile. He set the planner down and went to grab the plates he’d dished up.
“I do. She loves you too much not to. And besides, has she ever not done what she said she would?” Unlike your dad, who is about to let you down?
“Guess not. I don’t want someone else, though. Who we gonna get?”
Adam put the plates down and sat across from Charlie. “I’m working on it, bud. Listen, I have some bad news.”
Charlie paused with his slice halfway to his mouth. His innocent gaze held Adam’s.
“I have to go out of town for a couple of days.”
His son shrugged and took his bite. Then he spoke around it. “You always gotta go out of town for a couple of days.”
Adam sighed. Was he really gone so often? “Friday.”
Charlie’s face fell, and so did Adam’s heart. Right into his stomach, like a jagged boulder.
“Dad.”
“I know, bud.”
“You promised.”
Fuck. The tone in his son’s voice was like a razor blade slipping along his heart. “I know. I’m really sorry, Charlie. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”
Tears filled up the little brown eyes Adam adored. It was another shot to the gut. Charlie pushed back from the table.
“You always have to.”
“Sit down, bud. Eat your dinner.”
“I’m not hungry. I ate at Danny’s. His dad never misses anything. Neither does his mom.”
Charlie stomped out of the room. Normally, he’d call him back and correct his behavior, but since he was 100 percent in the wrong, Adam let him go.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. Then he scowled. “Danny’s dad never misses anything. Great job, Danny’s dad.”
When his hand smacked down on the table, the glasses of milk shook, little drops splashing onto the table.
He took another bite of the pizza, but he’d lost his own appetite. Charlie was young—he couldn’t possibly understand the importance of what Adam was doing to build a life for them. A life that would ensure they’d always have enough. One that gave Charlie the best opportunities for success so he wouldn’t have to white knuckle his way to the top of any firm or organization. Charlie wouldn’t have to worry about student loans or the cost of textbooks. He was a smart kid and could probably get scholarships, but if he didn’t, it wouldn’t mean not getting to go to the school of his choice. Because Adam would do anything—even disappoint his son—to make sure he could take care of the bigger picture for Charlie.
Adam’s father hadn’t held a job for more than a week at a time. When it came to wanting more, be it education, neighborhoods, or even something other than thrift store clothing, his father hadn’t cared. His wants consisted of enough money to buy the next six pack and a son that didn’t get in his way.
Adam rolled his shoulders. He hated thinking about the past and the feelings that roiled inside of him every time he did. Taking both plates to the counter, he left them there and went to his office. He grabbed the folder off the counter on his way by.
Give him a few minutes to cool off. He deserved it. Fuck. He knew Friday was stuck in his head for a reason. Charlie might not understand now, but it was for the best. He wouldn’t remember this grade-two production twenty years from now. But he’d remember if Adam couldn’t help him go to a good university or keep a decent roof over their heads. That kind of stuff stuck in a kid’s head long after they grew up.
Adam sat down in the leather office chair and opened up the folder Megan had left him. He hadn’t expected her to have some candidates so quickly. He smiled at the way she’d organized the information in a table. Four names were listed in the first column, ages in the second, and a couple of personal details in the third, and then a blank column for notes. She’d even written his login information underneath so he could see the profiles himself. Had there been others?
He scanned the list, then, deciding Megan had done as he’d asked, he logged onto the site. His inbox had messages from only these four women. Picking up his phone, he texted Meg.
Adam: Megan, were these the only four women who responded and did they meet the criteria?
Megan: These four did meet the criteria. If your ego needs a boost, I weeded out twelve.
Adam’s lips twitched. She had to be lying.
Megan: I just logged on about a half an hour ago and cleared all messages that didn’t suit.
Adam: Thank you.
Megan: Just doing my job.
He frowned at the text, unable to figure out why it bothered him when she said that. It was true. He put the phone down and read through the first profile. The woman’s message was brief. Would love to message or meet. Cara. The second woman looked a lot like his ninth grade science teacher. He did not have fond memories of that woman. Adam dismissed the profile. Shallow, perhaps, but there was no point in pretending that he didn’t need some sort of physical attraction. The third woman had two children of her own. He frowned and picked up his phone again.
Adam: Megan, an amendment to the criteria: no children of her own.
Megan: …
Adam: I don’t want to make this harder on Charlie. Having both people come into the relationship with kids seems too complicated.
Megan: Noted.
Noted? What did that mean? He hated texting. Tossing the phone on the desk, he dismissed that profile and clicked on the last one. Attractive. No children. Wanted to find a love that would last a lifetime. Love between a man and a woman didn’t last lifetimes. Adam pressed dismiss one more time.
Adam: Of the four, one is suitable at first glance. I’ll explore further, but I’m not overly hopeful if this is the best of the bunch. You’ll find more?
Megan: Yes, Mr. Klein.
Adam scowled at his phone.
Adam: This is serious.
Megan: I know. But also not easy. First time playing matchmaker. Maybe cut me some slack? I found another site, and I need you to answer a few questions. Hobbies, interests, your idea of a perfect date night.
Adam groaned.
Adam: No hobbies. I like squash and tennis. I don’t need a date night. I need a wife. Also, I need to be away on Friday.
Megan: CHARLIE’S CLASS PRESENTATION!
His heart slammed against his ribs. Did she think he didn’t know that?
Megan: Adam :(.
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need goddamn emojis to tell him what he already knew. Shutting down the computer, he went to find Charlie. His son was sitting at his desk, rebuilding one of his Lego sets. Adam sat on the bed, which was beside the desk. Charlie didn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry.”
Charlie shrugged. “I know.”
“I don’t want to let you down. I really wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. I don’t want to.”
Turning his head, Charlie stared at him. “Grown-ups can do whatever they want.”
“Not always. Especially not when they want to make sure they’re taking care of someone. My job is important, bud.”
Charlie’s eyes dropped. “More important than me?”
Adam scooped him up out of the chair and sat him on his lap. “Nothing is more important than you. Everything I do is for you and for us. You matter more than anything. But sometimes, I have to miss stuff. I know it sucks, and I don’t like it any more than you do.”
His little head dropped onto Adam’s shoulder. “It’ll probably be dumb anyway.”
“No, it won’t. It’ll be great. It’s dumb that I have to miss it. I’ll make sure Megan records it, and I’ll watch it as many times as you want me to as soon as I get home, okay?”
Charlie’s head popped up, and his grin was mischievous. “A thousand?”
Adam tickled him, loving the sound of his son giggling. “A million if you want me to.”
“Okay. Can we have ice cream?”
Nice move, kid. “If we warm up our dinner and you finish yours, sure.”
Charlie sighed. “Okay,” he said, scooting off Adam’s lap.
Adam laughed and followed his son into the kitchen.
…
Adam shut off the lights and double checked the front door to make sure it was locked. As he started to pass his office, he stopped, went to the computer, and logged on again. He pulled up Cara’s profile. Blond hair, brown eyes. Thirty, an interior decorator, loved theatre—watching, not performing—had never been married but wanted to be. Loved kids and pets, had neither. His fingers hovered over the reply button.
He typed a quick message: Hi, Cara. Thank you for reaching out. I’m available to meet for a drink next week. Do you have any evenings that work?
He pressed send before he could make a list of reasons he shouldn’t. Life was changing, and if he wanted any control over the end result, he didn’t have a lot of time. After getting ready for bed, he set his phone on the docking/charging station but picked it up again.
Adam: Charlie seems to have forgiven me about Friday. Also, I reached out to Cara.
Megan: Kids are resilient and he can never stay mad at you. Good job with Cara. Not easy the first time, I’m sure. May the odds be ever in your favor.
What the hell did that mean? Confounding woman.
Adam: Good night, Megan.
Megan: Good night, Adam.
When he shut off the lamp, he rolled to his side, then rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, telling himself if he fell asleep in the next thirty minutes he’d get seven and a half hours of sleep. Thirty minutes later, he was still staring at the ceiling. Using his phone, he logged onto the website again. There was a message from Cara and a few others as well. He ignored them, knowing Megan would look through them tomorrow.
Cara: I’d love to. Do you want to pick the place? We can meet there? My evenings are open so you pick the day.
He liked that her answer was straightforward. No messing around. No emojis. He typed a quick message saying they could meet Tuesday evening at eight p.m. at Mario’s, which was halfway between work and home. He set his phone down on the nightstand.
There. He had a date. It would be the first one in a very long time. Ten years almost. He’d hooked up casually with a few women since Reece. Before his first date with her, he’d been excited. Eager. Lying in bed now, he acknowledged the anticipation humming inside of him, a low burning flame. As long as he controlled the flame this time, he wouldn’t get hurt. More importantly, Charlie wouldn’t be hurt. The last thing he needed getting in the way of his plans was drama of any sort. Meeting Cara would be like getting to know a client. They’d either hit it off or they wouldn’t. If they did, it would benefit his life, just like scoring a major account would. If they didn’t, there would be someone else. Someone who suited him more. No sense worrying about it until after he’d met her. Yet questions and uncertainties attacked his brain. He hadn’t missed this part—the wondering whether a woman would like him back. Focus on something else.
In the meantime, Megan would find more possibilities. By the end of the summer, he’d have obtained a partnership professionally and personally. Which means going to sleep so you can drag your ass out of bed. In the morning, he’d touch base with Megan and make sure she understood the importance of meeting all his criteria.
And remember to ask her to tape Charlie’s performance. She would anyway. Even if he didn’t ask her—she’d do it because she loved Charlie. Same reason she was helping Adam with his crazy request. She’d do anything for his son. It was nice to have that in common with her, to know, at least in that way, he wasn’t alone.
He looked over at his phone, knowing the desire to text her need to be squashed. But you’re thinking about the performance now, so why not remind her? Pressing his lips together, he counted to ten in his head, waiting for the urge to pass. When it didn’t, he scooped up his phone and sent a quick text.
Adam: You’ll remember to tape Charlie’s performance?
The bubbles came up and his stomach tightened. Dammit. It’s okay to become friendly with her. She’s finding you a freaking wife. I think it’s safe to text her.
Megan: Of course. Why are you still up?
Thinking about you. No. Thinking about Charlie.
Adam: Just heading to bed. Why are you still up?
Megan: Not sure. Restless, I guess.
He could picture her over there, lounging in her comfortable clothing—which shouldn’t look so good on a woman—maybe watching or reading one of those romances she loved.
Adam: Does that happen a lot?
He cringed. You’re asking her sleep habits? Slick, Klein.
Megan: Not really. You okay?
Was he?
Adam: Yeah. I should get some sleep. So should you.
Megan: Goodnight, Adam.
The muscles around his heart tightened and he had no idea why.
Adam: Goodnight, Megan.
Setting his phone back on the night table, he stared up at the ceiling, realizing he no longer felt restless. He felt…calm. Nearly tranquil. The silence of the house washed over him and with just a hint of a smile on his lips, he fell asleep thinking about how every now and again, change could be a good thing.