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Harlow
Ever since high school, I’ve been able to multitask flawlessly. It followed me through college and when I went to work at my first real job. It’s a skill I take pride in despite my mother’s constant criticism. I know she hates it when I try to do several things at once, but it’s impossible for me not to manage multiple tasks.
“Harlow,” she scolds, pulling my phone from my hands.
I jump at her sudden movement then reach to try and grab my phone back. “Mom, I’m working.”
“That’s the problem.” She frowns. “You’re too busy looking down at this screen to see who won the volleyball game.” She gestures to my nieces and nephews splashing around in the pool, and I reluctantly follow her gaze. My sister’s kids scream with joy as they start up their second game. I was supposed to watch them, but I’d been distracted by an email from my boss.
“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely, turning back to her. “After this, I swear I’ll be good. Just let me have my phone back. It’s work-related, and I have to get that email sent by three today.”
For a moment, she looks skeptical, probably trying to decide if I’m lying to her. But I’m not. This past month has been hectic for me, trying to maintain my family life with the sudden workload that’s been thrust upon me.
For months now, everyone at Hart Publishing has known about the new imprint the owners are creating. After thirteen years of dominating the romance world, the heads of the company are branching out into the erotic romance genre—something much steamier than their usual fade to black, sweet romance. They wanted to put a special focus on eBooks, and they wanted to hire someone with experience to take the reins.
That someone was me.
When I first heard that they wanted me to be the senior editor for Midnight Press, I was shocked. I’m not even ashamed to admit that I was jumping for joy in my office when no one was looking. Although I was excited, the pressure to make this a success and show everyone I could do it gave me anxiety. I started at Hart right after college and have been there for nearly nine years now. I interned and worked my way up through sheer grit and determination. Though I haven’t been there as long as some of the other editors, they picked me. Even now, I still can’t believe it.
“Mom,” I insist, wiggling my fingers for emphasis. “I promise. Just one email then I’ll turn my phone off.”
Finally, she hands it back, and I’m able to finish up the last of the message. I tell my boss, Shelby that I’m still in contact with Liam Daniels and that we should be hearing back from him any day now. Once I hit send, I make a huge show of turning the device off and sliding it into my purse. Mom smiles with satisfaction.
“I love you, Harlow,” she says, rising and kissing my forehead. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes when I smile.
While she heads back inside, I make my way over to the grill where my older brother, Tyler stands; flipping over racks of ribs and a couple steaks. “Hey, kiddo,” he greets.
“Hey, bro. That’s lookin’ good.” I nod toward the sizzling, the smell making my stomach growl.
Tyler’s been a talented cook his entire life, so when our dad passed away, he took over the role as the ‘man of the house.’ He managed to graduate at the top of his class in culinary school and worked to help Mom with the bills. He always shined best in the kitchen, so it only made sense for him to venture into the culinary world. For our sister Britney’s wedding, he created the entire menu and worked with his kitchen staff to help make it the best day of her life. If I think hard enough, sometimes I can still taste the raspberry truffle cake he made for Britney and Andrew.
“It’s just about ready,” he says, glancing around the backyard. “Mind telling everyone it’s almost time to eat?”
“Not a problem at all,” I reply. I pat him on the shoulder and head to the pool, ushering the kids out and toward their towels. Britney’s youngest looks at me with big blue eyes. Despite how soaked she is from the pool, I bend down to wrap my arms around her.
“Hey, sweetie. You ready to eat?”
Rather than responding, she nods excitedly.
“C’mon, let’s get you all dried off and dressed.” As the older kids get ready, I carry Katie inside and help her get ready for lunch. Passing by Mom, I can feel her eyes on me. Before she even says anything, I know exactly where this conversation will lead—and I dread it with every fiber of my being.
“You’re a natural at that,” she says with this affected lightness in her voice. From years of experience, she only does that when she wants to oh-so-subtly hint at the prospect of me having children.
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Mother,” I say pointedly.
Katie lifts her arms, and I pull her bumblebee shirt over her head, ruffling her hair. “All done, sweetie. Go sit with Mommy, okay?”
As she runs back outside with her brothers and sisters, I stand up and give my mom a look. A “Harlow Look” is sharp with narrowed eyes and raised brows. It practically begs for someone to challenge me. Most of the time, my family knows not to go any further than that, but today must be different because Mom wipes her hands on a dishtowel and approaches.
“Look, Harlow. All I’m saying is that you’re getting older—”
“Thirty is not ‘getting older,’ Mom. Just because I didn’t have kids at twenty-three doesn’t mean I’m going to die an old cat lady,” I tell her. Though at the rate my non-existent love life is going, that just might be my reality after all. I don’t dare tell her that. “I just got this big promotion at work, and I’m trying to balance seven new-to-me authors—and one is a huge deal for the new press. I don’t have time to think about what I want to do with my hair let alone when I’m going to have a baby. I know you’re doing this out of love, but I need you to understand that I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m an adult, same as you, and I have a job. It’s my career - one I worked really hard to earn. I have an entire editing team to run, I’m stressed every day, and I just want to come to your house every now and then and escape from all of that. So, can you please, please just let me have that?”
