My stomach sinks right as Natalie starts to leave. For a moment, I’m frozen in place, unable to comprehend what justhappened, but I somehow shake myself out of it and walk towards Natalie.
“Wait, just a minute,” I say, trying to keep my cool. “If you asked any of my previous clients, they would all tell you I go above and beyond. I’m certain I can give you the level of service you not only expect but deserve.” I don’t say the next part out loud:just give me a chance to prove it.
But Natalie doesn’t even stop in her tracks. “Good luck, Sophie. As a mom, you’ll need it.” Now I’m the one who pauses, and I can do nothing but watch her waltz out the door.
My blood goes cold. This has never happened before. I’ve been a mom for five years, and not once has it stopped me from landing a client. Humiliation rolls over me like a tidal wave, and I walk back to the communal table, hoping no one witnessed this moment.
I’ve only been a single working mom for a year. Specifically, a single working mom with a baby. And I’m finally starting to see what I’m up against.
Now that there’s nothing I can do to salvage this project, I pull out my phone, anxious to see what Amanda has to tell me.
Amanda
Everything looks good, momma! Julian is fast asleep. No worries :)
I shut my eyes and let out a weary sigh. Well, at least there’s that.
But I just lost a huge potential client over what turned out to be nothing.
Great.
CHAPTER 8
WILL
Istare at the door and try to muster the courage to knock. It’s already dark by now, and there’s a warm glow emanating from the door’s window. The lights are still on. Based on what I know about the kids’ schedule, they’re probably already asleep, but it’s still early enough that Sophie is unlikely to be in bed yet.
The air is crisp, cold enough to turn my breath into airy puffs on every exhale. I’ve been standing here for a minute already, still trying to convince myself that this is a good idea.
What else can I do? I know Sophie well enough to know nothing else will work if I want to change her mind. If I call her, she either won’t pick up at all, or she’ll hang up as soon as she realizes it’s me. If I text her, she’ll just block me. And even if I hadn’t deactivated my social accounts, I’m pretty sure she’s already blocked me on every platform she’s on. So, I’m giving it a try the old-school way, hoping I can get through her tenacious wall and help her see how she can get out of this situation as a winner.
That tenacity is one of the things I admire most about this powerhouse of a woman.
I finally knock, softly enough to avoid waking Julian if he’s asleep, but hopefully loud enough that she can hear. At first,no sounds come from the house, but a few seconds later there’s rustling and movement. I back away slightly so she’s not too close to my face when the door opens.
Wouldn’t want to get decked.
The door opens in one big swing, and I come face-to-face with Sophie. My shoulders drop, my breath steadies, and a warm, soothing wave spreads through my muscles. Her golden hair tumbles to her shoulders in a wild yet adorable way, and she’s wearing pink pyjamas that make her all the more adorable. She’s holding Julian against her chest with one arm.
And her huge blue eyes are staring daggers at me.
It only takes her a fragment of a second to realize it’s me at her door; in that time, she frowns deeply and begins closing the door. I act fast and jam my foot to block the door. I wince at the impact, but the pain doesn’t stop me.
I grab the side of the door with one hand. “I just want to talk,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady to make myself as harmless as possible.
Sophie narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she whispers, although the venom seeping through her tone is anything but quiet.
She’s furious.
But I expected this. If the situations were reversed, I’d act the exact same way. “May I come in?”
She gasps and presses Julian closer to her chest. I can’t pretend I don’t feel my stomach sinking. “Give me one good reason I should let you come in.”
“Okay.” I raise my eyebrows and point at the infant she’s clutching. “Him. You love him, correct?”
Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What?”
I take a deep breath before I continue. If I want this to work, I must display an air of confidence and strength. I can’t waver, not even for one second. “You want what’s best for him. You want tofree up your timeandbe able to keep growing your business so that this little boy—and your girls—don’t ever want for anything. Correct?”
