Aubree doesn't move, still looking a little confused. "...you…you’re leaving early?"
"Yes," I say, irritation bleeding into my voice. This isn't her fault. It's the norm for me to stay late, to avoid leaving early as much as possible. I glance at my watch, "I need to be out of here in an hour."
The next fifty-five minutes are spent finishing up my jobs, while Aubree works on calling and smoothing over upset clients by using whatever customer service magic she naturally possesses.
I'm checking our numbers for the final time when Aubree walks in and stands in front of my desk.
"Everything good?"
She nods. "Uh, yes, but Mr. Redmond called and said his car is acting up again. He says he needs Durant eyes on it ASAP."
I snort a laugh. Old man Redmond has been a thorn in my father's ass for years.
"I would be less surprised if you said the sky was falling. That Buick has been acting up since Carter was in office, and he refuses to just let it die."
Aubree throws her head back and giggles, "Atlas, you're so funny!"
I frown, because I wasn't trying to be funny, but I still force a laugh.
"Yeah, I—uh... just tell him we have a family emergency. If he tries to call my dad right now while my mom's in the hospital, my dad will shove that car off the ridge and then his foot up his ass."
Aubree laughs again, but it's cut off when the door bangs open abruptly, making me jump.
My son stands in the doorway. His dark eyes are narrowed, his jaw locked, and he’s glancing back and forth betweenAubree and me—alone in my office.
Oh, shit.
It all comes together instantly: what Liam thinks this looks like, especially as I see Wendy rush in after him, a confused Noah still holding onto her hand.
"Hi, Dad! Mama's just dropping us off... or should we just leave you and her alone?"
Aubree's eyes widen at those words, and fuck—this situation has just gone from bad to worse, because now I have to explain some difficult things to my wife and sons, whose trust in me is less than fragile at the moment.
Things like why none of my employees know of their existence, and why none of their pictures are up in the office anymore.
The answer to those questions go back to when I was spiraling, taking down their photos because I couldn't stand to look at them without picturing my wife dying.
And then, when I came back weeks ago, I was distracted by catching up the backlog of work that built up while I was out. Michelle has been using this office to organize our filing and set up spreadsheets on the computer into a more cohesive system.
I've been spending less and less time in this office, which has been good for my mental health, for keeping my hands working, and for being around my employees.
My father had told them I was sick and needed to go away for a month to recover. I know they probably suspect drugs or alcohol, and isn't it odd that somehowthatfeels less shameful than admitting it was for mental health.
The pictures are still in my drawer, hidden away from the world. I hoped this week I would be able to take them out, proudly put them all around my office again.
I want to open up more. I want to be a better boss to my employees, to show them that I care about their lives. I want to share with them that I have the most beautiful wife in the world, that I have two sons who are turning into the greatest little men.
But it's odd when you've gone so long without telling anyone anything about yourself, there's no real segue to say, "Oh, by the way—I'm married, and I have two kids. I know it's weird that I haven't mentioned anything personal about me, and those reasons make sense in my head, but sound insane whenever I try to speak them out loud."
Why did you hide them? Because I have compulsive nightmares about my wife violently dying.
Why don't you talk about them? Because I constantly worry that if I talk about them, I'll manifest my worst fear.
Are you ashamed of them? No, I'm ashamed of myself, but I worry that they're ashamed of me.
My mouth opens to explain to Liam, to explain to Wendy, but my wife cuts me off.
"Liam Emmett!" She grits out through clenched teeth, her green eyes burning into him. "What the hell are you doing?"
