To his credit, there are no snide remarks or even any teasing expressions when I tell him about these failures. From time to time, he’ll interrupt with a follow-up question to dig deeper into what exactly is happening. The conversation flows well; I’m deeply immersed in Super Sophie, the unshakeable woman who lets nothing stand in her way.
Until he does shake me with a question that’s completely out of left field.
“Can you tell me a bit more about what your workday looks like with Julian?” he asks without a hint of mocking energy in his eyes.
My head jerks back at this question. “Uh,” I stammer, not in the habit of being caught off-balance like this. “What does Julian have to do with this?” I lean on my elbows and carefully inspect his expression. If he so much as gives me a sliver of a signal that he’s teasing me about my unique work situation, I’ll put him back in his place.
Will leans back in his seat; his foot bumps into mine under the table, and I flinch. A tingling sensation runs up my leg all the way to my core.What the hell?
“I need to understand the logistics of what we’re working with,” he explains. I try to see if he felt what I just felt, but he lets nothing show. The man is a brick wall.
I hate it. I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel to be completely unable to read him.
I strongly believe that my uncanny ability to read people and understand power dynamics at play has given me an unfairadvantage in growing my business to what it is today. When meeting with vendors, potential clients, or anyone else who may have their part to play in my world, I always know how to adjust how I’m coming across to tilt the power balance in my favour.
Anxious client is scared to invest in me? I’m the gentle, caring, patient cheerleader who will help them work through their objections until they trust me completely. Stubborn manchild of a vendor tries to upcharge me for bullshit reasons? I’m the hardass boss bitch who won’t budge.
But Will is throwing me off my game.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and say, “On days like today, I can get a few hours of childcare for Julian. But most days I have him with me.” I explain what a typical day looks like with Julian, which involves several breaks. I don’t specify that many of these breaks are for breastfeeding him because I don’t see a reason to bring my breasts into the conversation.
He nods along, his gaze never wavering. “And you breastfeed him, correct?”
Heat flushes to my cheeks as indignation swells in my chest. “That’s none of your business.”
Will’s eyes soften. He places both hands on the table as if showing me a gesture of goodwill. “Don’t be silly,” he says, his deep voice softer now. “Babies need to eat. It’s not a big deal. I assume you do, since you breastfed the girls?”
I curl my toes in my leather booties underneath my chair. A stray thought pops into my head:Will’s strong hand on my breast, his thumb flicking gently at my nipple?—
My lower belly clenches. What the hell is wrong with me today?
This is Will. Womanizer Will. Matt’s best friend Will. I don’t care how much his angular face looks like it was carved by Greek gods, and I don’t care if I haven’t gotten laid in over a year. This man is dangerous. Completely off-limits.
Even in my imagination.
I straighten up, my shoulders back, showing him that his question didn’t get to me at all. He’s right, after all; I shouldn’t feel any different about breastfeeding Julian than I would if I bottle-fed him. Fed is fed. Only a creep would sexualize my breasts in this scenario.
A creep like Will?
Focus, Sophie.
“I do,” I say in a deadpan tone. “And I intend to until he’s at least a year old.” If I can. But I don’t say that last part out loud, because the last thing Will needs is a reason to think I have confidence issues.
“Right.” He frowns slightly, as if he’s thinking. “So you probably feed him every, what, three to four hours?”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s correct.” I can’t hide my surprise that he would know how often a five-month-old needs to breastfeed.
“Okay, great.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “And when you have the girls, how is your day different than without?” I notice he doesn’t bring his best friend into the conversation. And while I’m happy he doesn’t, I can’t help but wonder why. If he wanted to shift the power into his field even more, there would be nothing better than making me uncomfortable by mentioning Matt.
“I have to cut my day short to grab Gwen from school. I’ll pick up Heather from daycare at the same time, since I can’t work when I have Gwen anyway.”
Will nods again. For the first time, I dare to ask myself if it’s possible he isn’t playing a game at all. Is it possible that he simply wants to do his job, and do it well? That he genuinely wants to help?
I don’t dare to hope so. Plus, if I’m wrong, I can’t afford to put myself in a vulnerable position. Too much is at stake for me.
I take a long drink from my mug, emptying it before setting it back on the table. Realizing I could use a breather, I gesture to grab the cup and bring it back to the counter just as Will reaches for it. His hand lands on mine, and just for a fraction of a moment, the heat at the contact sends a rush of electricity up my arm and down my shoulder.
We lock eyes. My heart flutters.
