I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. Imagine—they look at you funny, when both injuries are completely my fault.”
Drew’s voice lowered. “Seriously, I see
you sitting there trying all sorts of guilt on for size. It was an accident. It could have been me making the popcorn, and the exact same thing would have happened.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Stop beating yourself up. Two months ago he had a black eye from running into the dresser while his mother was watching him. He’s a little boy. They do shit without thinking and get hurt.”
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I hadn’t even thought of his mother. She’s going to hate me.”
“Don’t worry about her. There wasn’t much of a shot of her liking you anyway.”
Great. Just great.
Emerie
“Who are you?”
It only took three words to know the woman who walked into the office the next morning was a bitch.
Skin-tight jeans, brown leather high-heel boots on long, thin legs, and a tiny little waist in a top that that showed skin even though it was the end of January and freezing in New York City. I didn’t want to look any higher. I wanted to go home and change into something less professional and more sexy. There was no doubt in my mind who she was.
Dreading it, I skimmed the rest of the way up and was met with a face as nice as the body. Of course.
“I’m Emerie Rose. And you are?”
“Alexa Jagger. Drew’s wife.”
Drew suddenly appeared next to me in the lobby. “Ex-wife.” His narrowed eyes matched his curt response.
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. We need to talk.”
“Make an appointment. I’m busy this morning.”
She completely ignored Drew and brushed past him, strutting her way to his office.
The two of us remained standing in the lobby for a moment.
I spoke softly. “Well, she’s lovely.”
Drew took a deep breath. “You might want to put earplugs in.”
“We’re going!”
“You’re not taking him on the road to follow a bunch of race car drivers around the country and home schooling him! Go, if you want to go, but Beck is staying here.”
“What is he going to do here with you? You work sixty hours a week.”
“I make it work. At least here he has his school, his routine, his home.”
“You don’t make it work. You dump him on a babysitter. I’ve heard more about the new sitter this morning than you. And apparently she’s not even competent to watch him since his hand is burned.”
Shit.