Whoever had invented Monday mornings should be put in the stocks.

Leticia was aware that people did not in fact use stocks anymore, but she thought they should revive the tradition. Just for whoever thought Monday mornings were a great idea.

Saturday had been great. She’d woken up refreshed, if suffering from a pleasant ache in her legs. She’d picked up the cake and then driven to Jonas’s apartment. Debbie’s apartment was always a mess, Sharon had protested that she always hosted everything, and the twins weren’t about to host their own party, so Jonas had taken up the mantel.

It had been fun, as always. Jonas had tons of hilarious stories to share. They’d all taken turns giving a toast to Melanie and Tom. Debbie and Mel were much easier to be around now that they’d finally gotten over themselves and started dating. Sharon and Ross had been sickeningly cute, and Leticia had gotten to put her hand to Sharon’s growing stomach and feel the baby kick. Sharon was being stubborn and not letting the doctor tell her whether it was going to be a boy or a girl. Leticia knew that Ross was hoping for a girl, but she didn’t care. She was going to spoil the baby either way.

She was a little nervous about the whole baby thing, actually. She’d never been comfortable around kids. Not that she disliked them. She just didn’t know what to do with them. It had made for a few awkward situations, growing up with tons of cousins that she visited every Christmas in Mexico, all of her aunts and uncles were confused when she didn’t want to hold a baby or play babysitter.

Leticia knew she could be a bit much. She was brash and blunt and loud. How was she supposed to reconcile that with a child, something that needed a gentle touch and extra guidance, someone who wouldn’t get her sarcasm or her dirty jokes?

And—if she was really being honest—she’d never thought of babies as that cute. Maybe one day when she was married she’d adopt an older kid, but babies? No way. They weren’t repulsive or anything, she just didn’t get why everybody made such a fuss over them.

But for the sake of her best friend, she’d find a way. Any child of Sharon’s was automatically a part of Leticia’s heart. She was sure that, when the time came, she’d find a way to get over whatever hang ups she had and be the best not-blood-related aunt in the world.

Sunday had been a wonderfully lazy day right up until Jonas had texted her, asking her to take him out to dance. She hadn’t planned on going out again after Friday night but, hey, she wasn’t about to say no. They hit up a gay club, which Leticia honestly hadn’t minded. Normally she’d needle Jonas about taking her somewhere he could get laid and she couldn’t, but she’d found herself oddly unwilling to find someone to sleep with.

To say that she couldn’t get Carter out of her head was a bit melodramatic. She just didn’t feel like sleeping with anyone else, that was all. The fact that this had never happened before wasn’t anything to worry about. It was just a sign that she needed to focus on work, like she’d thought.

Then she’d stayed out too late—or really, too early—and now Monday morning was here and she kind of wanted to find a way to kill the sun.

“Why does it have to be so bright out,” she grumbled.

“I take it that’s code for an extra shot of espresso?” The barista asked. Her name was Hal and she’d been making coffee for Leticia for the past year now, every morning when Leticia stopped by the place on her way to the museum. Hal was pretty good at reading Leticia’s moods by now.

“Yes, please,” Leticia groaned. She’d need all the caffeine that she could get.

“Coming right up!” Hal winked at her. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the guy that came in twenty minutes ago. Blonde, built—I totally wanted to give him my number but I think he was like ten years older than I am and, also, I chickened out.”

“You’ll never get a date if you don’t take a risk,” Leticia pointed out, thinking of her own blonde and built date from Friday night. She shivered pleasantly at the memory. “And shouldn’t you be focusing on that senior thesis paper?”

“Shouldn’t you be at work already?” Hal shot back, handing Leticia her coffee.

“Touché, kid.”

Caffeine now happily working its way through her system, Leticia walked around the corner to the museum. She did love her job. Deciding what art the public got to see, arranging it so that it flowed throughout the entire building, telling a story… she’d never had much talent for making art herself, but she loved caring for it and sharing it with the world.

When she walked in, she was greeted by cheerful “good mornings” from the security desk. She scowled at them. The audacity of being this chipper this early in the morning.

She made her way to her office, set down her coffee, and proceeded to groan at the stack of paperwork already on her desk. Really? When they’d said she’d get the job of head curator, all she’d been able to think about was the creative side of things. She hadn’t considered just how much goddamn paperwork she’d have to do.

Hopefully, when they hired her replacement, she could foist some of that paperwork off onto them.

There was a knock at her door. Leticia straightened up and double-checked her hair. Did she have circles under her eyes? Was it obvious that she’d been covered in glitter and dancing with just her bra on the night before?

What? It was a gay bar and all the guys had been shirtless. Also, she might have been drunk.

Leticia opened the door to find none other than her boss standing there: the museum director.

“Mr. Horowitz!” Leticia put on her best smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve told you, Leticia, it’s just David, please.” Mr. Horowitz smiled. He seemed relaxed, happy even, which was rare. Usually he looked like he’d just heard the Louvre had burned down or something equally awful. “I know you’re probably hard at work, but I wanted to introduce you to your replacement for assistant curator.”

“Thank God,” Leticia blurted out. “No offense, sir, but doing the paperwork of two jobs has been a little exhausting.”

“Of course, and this man comes highly recommended. He worked in several museums up in New York City until four years ago. Since then, he was in charge of the Children’s Museum, but we managed to poach him from them.”

“I’m sure you offered him quite a substantial raise to manage that?” Leticia asked.

“We did what we had to do. The Children’s Museum has far too many employees already, and we desperately needed someone with experience in order to fill your shoes.”

“I’m flattered,” Leticia said, and she honestly meant it. She’d always liked to think that her work as assistant curator hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her former boss and predecessor as Head Curator, Laura Weiss, had retired only a month or so ago, but she’d been giving Leticia a ton of responsibility long before then.

“Now, his background is with Botticelli and the Italian masters…”

“Oh Lord, don’t tell me he’s a snob.”

Mr. Horowitz laughed. “But I can assure you, he’s excited to work with contemporary art. I was thinking that he would help you to show visitors how contemporary art is in conversation with the art that came before it.”

“Sounds good.”

Mr. Horowitz started walking and Leticia hurried to follow him. He led her past her old office, where presumably the new hire would work, and instead took her to the Scaife galleries. “I left him in here to wander around,” Mr. Horowitz explained. “Give him a feel for things before I thrust him into an office.”

“This is why I actually don’t hate you,” Leticia quipped. “I know it’s tradition to hate one’s boss but you’re not half bad.

“Thank you,” Mr. Horowitz said dryly. “Pleasing you is my one joy in life.”

Leticia laughed at his sarcasm, throwing her head back, so she literally ran into someone as she turned the corner. She stepped back, disoriented, and then had to clench down on her jaw to keep her mouth from dropping open.

It was Carter.

“Ah, Mr. Bolton!” Mr. Horowitz beamed. He was obviously oblivious to the crisis that Leticia was having inside. “This is your new boss, our Head Curator, Leticia Perra. Leticia, this is Carter Bolton, the new hire for assistant curator.”

Carter stared at her, and Leticia stared back. For a moment it felt like she was frozen. How could this be possible? Had Hal put some kind of hallucinogen in her coffee? Was she actually still asleep and having a nightmare?

Then she realized that Mr. Horowitz was staring and if she didn’t start acting normal in the next two seconds, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do. “Mr. Bolton,” she said, glad to hear that her voice was even. She held out her hand for him to shake.

“Ms. Perra,” Carter replied, shaking her hand. His hand was large, his grip firm, and she couldn’t help but remember where he’d had those hands on her Friday night. They’d been on her hips, spanning her back, tangled in her hair while she’d taken his dick in her mouth…

Leticia dropped his hand like it had scalded her. Shit, shit, shit. How the hell was she supposed to handle this?

Mr. Horowitz cleared his throat and Leticia realized that she’d been staring at Carter in silence. She was so screwed. “I’ll let you two get acquainted,” her boss said, and then he was walking out of the gallery.

She was alone with her one-night stand. The one-night stand that had blown her mind.

She was in so much trouble.