‘I think that’s the boss’s prerogative.’
The sentence was out of his mouth before he’d thought about it. Clara didn’t deserve his sarcasm. She had been there for him, sucking everything up, since his father died. She’d been unfailing in her support no matter how badly he’d treated her.
‘I’m sorry, Clara.’ He sat back, the leather chair reclining. ‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I know you’re the boss, Oliver, but I worry for you.’ Her hands went to the necklace at her throat.
‘I know you do.’ He nodded, reaching for the baseball stress ball again. ‘And I’ve decided to take a little time out.’
‘You have?’
He nodded. ‘Once this scandal has been dealt with, once theGlobe is launched, I’m going to take a minute, do some things I haven’t done for a while.’
‘Like what?’
He smiled. ‘I don’t know. Not make plans for one thing. Maybe take a vacation.’
Clara smiled. ‘And Lois? Will she be someplace in these not-making-plans plans?’
‘No,’ he responded, squeezing the ball tight. ‘I’ve burned my bridges there.’ He sighed. ‘And it’s no more than I deserve.’
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Michel’s dark hair was covered in snow and Hayley was sure the faded denim jacket he was wearing was the same one he’d worn ten years ago. His eyes were ringed by dark circles, hinting at a lack of sleep the night before. She was almost pleased. How many sleepless nights had she endured when she’d found out she was pregnant, then the sleepless nights with a crying baby? She swallowed. Single parenthood had been her choice.
The noise of the city going on around them – cars, bikes, Santas with handbells – all faded away as if knowing the importance of this moment.
‘I am sorry,’ he started, his blue eyes meeting hers.
She didn’t know how to respond to the statement. What was he sorry for? Leaving? The things he’d said?
‘No, Michel, I’m sorry. I should have done everything differently. I realise that.’ She sighed. ‘But I can’t go back.’
‘I know,’ he whispered.
‘What do you want to do?’ Hayley asked, bluntly.
‘I would like to meet my daughter,’ he replied, the sentence wrapped with emotion.
Hayley nodded, the enormity of it all hitting her with a vengeance.
Michel shook his head, flakes of snow scattering. ‘I do not know what I am supposed to do.’
‘Listen, I’m not asking you to marry me and fly to England. All she wants is to meet you, to know who you are. Anything else is going to take time.’
He put his hands in his hair. ‘This is life-changing.’
Hayley nodded. ‘I know.’ She let out a breath. ‘But Angel, she’s the brightest thing in my life. She’s clever, exceptionally so, and she’s funny and she makes me laugh a hundred times a day… and she has your eyes, Michel.’
There were tears in those eyes now as he nodded his head. Maybe she hadn’t been wrong about this man after all.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
She wanted this so badly for Angel. It didn’t have to be formal, nothing set in stone or permanent plans for the future; it just had to be a beginning, a chance for Angel to know her father.
She led the way up the stairs to Dean’s apartment, Michel following and her heart beating like an enthusiastic little drummer boy. Pausing at the top of the staircase, Hayley took a breath then pushed open the door that led to the kitchen.
And there Angel was. Cleaned face, eyes expectant, the hood of her cat onesie pulled over her head so the ears stood upright. She marched past Hayley and held her hand out to Michel.
