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4
“Ethan, Mr. Kyle’s assistant wanted to ask how many of you will be going for his executive retreat,” Laurel said, as he looked for a few files from his desk.
“Retreat?” he asked, closing his leather briefcase.
“Yes. This weekend. Remember?” Laurel tilted her head to the side, like she hadn’t heard him correctly.
He clenched the handle of his briefcase. Holy shit. Six months ago, Kyle had invited him to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to shake some hands. Of course, Kyle hadn’t known then and still didn’t know now that Ethan intended on leaving his company and opening his own, but that was beside the point. He’d have an opportunity to meet all of Kyle’s top team from different states and even countries, and establish rapport for his own business in the future.
Six months ago though, his life was on a different path. He could count more on his housekeeper to watch the kids. Now, what would he do?
He trusted Poppy, yes, but to go to Hawaii and leave her kids behind with her? Guilt stabbed at him. Willow would not approve of him going on vacation and leaving her behind. Not that he counted the retreat as vacation, since his presence was essential. Not attending would be career suicide, besides getting Kyle on his bad side and second guessing his bonus—and would also make his own coworkers wonder about how chaotic his life was still, if he couldn’t even leave town. What kind of references would he get on his new firm, if his reputation was tarnished?
No. He had to go.
What if I take the kids with me?
Other employees took their children or spouses, and they had a full schedule of activities ahead. A change of atmosphere would do Willow and Archie good, and perhaps even improve their relationship. Yes. It’d also show everyone that his life was back in order. The way it should be.
“Four, please.”
“Four?” Laurel upped her eyebrow. “I thought you told me I wouldn’t need to go.”
“You don’t. The fourth is for my nanny.”
She smiled. “Four it is.”
“Thanks. I’m done for today,” he said, and during his ride back home those words reverberated through him. He’d been able to be more productive and alert at work because in the last two weeks, Poppy had done a good job with his children.
Archie had always been an easy sell. His behavior at times might be troublesome, but his heart was not. And Willow… she could maybe not say it, but at least she wasn’t actively complaining about Poppy or making passive aggressive remarks about her. She usually saved those for her father anyway.
Besides, he couldn’t take the kids to Hawaii for a business retreat and not expect to have to socialize away from them. Yes, bringing Poppy was the right decision for everyone.
When he arrived home, he decided to talk to Poppy first, before telling the kids. What if she already had plans and couldn’t come along? He ushered her into his home office and closed the door.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked, intertwining her fingers.
He sensed her nervous energy, and folded his arms over his chest, leaning over his desk. If she had done something wrong, Willow would have texted him already. “Why would you be in trouble?”
She paced in a small circle, still fidgeting with her hands. At last, she halted, and looked at him square in the eye, in the middle of his home office. Fuck it, but she was beautiful…
Specks of a forest green nearly took over the brightness of her eyes. “I… I told Willow earlier about my mother’s, hmmm, consistent drinking, let’s put it that way. I wasn’t sure you’d think I crossed the line.”
“Your mother’s drinking?” he repeated, confused.
“Yes. She’s technically a functioning alcoholic. She’s a heavy drinker. Retired now, but when she worked, let’s say her happy hours stretched out well into dinner time and beyond,” she talked, gesturing with her hands, but he detected a note of sadness even if her voice was light and breezy. She tried to make it seem like her mother’s illness was no big deal, and hell, could he blame her?
“I see,” he said. The tips of his fingers tingled, and he curled them into a ball to keep from stretching his hand and pulling her into his arms. What? Where did that crazy idea come from? Consoling her would not do any of them favors. They were not friends. They were not lovers. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. He’d heard pity in all of its forms from family and friends when he’d talked about Darcy. Then, he stopped talking and made it easier for everyone.
“I was trying to relate. She’s upset that her mom won’t be here for Mother’s Day brunch, and I told her I knew how she was feeling.”
He dropped his arms to his sides, unsure about how to feel. He’d email his mother to fly in from Colorado to attend the brunch. That meant dealing with his mother’s criticism over his life choices for a couple of days, but at least Willow would have someone to sit next to her at this dreaded event. “I’m sorry. I had no idea about your mom.”
“Thanks. She’s a good woman, minus the liquor.”
“If she’s anything like you, she’s quite something,” he said, regretting the words the second they parted from his lips.
She parted her mouth, a spark lit in her green eyes. The brightness returned with full force, and his stomach curled, like he was trying too fucking hard to hide his own response to her. A surge of heat came down on him, fast-tracking through his body. Quite something was such a dull way to describe her.
