Too Late For Regret, My Love

he silence had started to grate. I missed the familiar rhythm of home, even with the recent discord. As I p

io, watering the orchids Brett loved. She glanced up as I entered, her eyes meeting mine for a brief, almost imperceptible mo

ctions for our next major firm expansion. He looked up, his face breaking into a wide, hopeful sm

e touching my lips. "You said you

ties. We could be expanding into Europe, Alex. Imagine that. Parker-Hardy Designs, dominat

I read, a part of me softened. This was the Brett I fell in lo

ackstory. Single mom, escaped a difficult situation." He looked at me with those earnest, vulnerable eye

e you trying to make e

idn't mean to offend. I told her you're the boss, my partner, and my fiancée. She knows her place now. And I showed her the allergy list. I made her r

way at my resolve. He looked so vulnerable, so remorseful. He w

e softer than I intended.

r. "Dinner is served," Glenda's voice called

at me. "See

r hands clasped in front of her. She waited until Brett and I were seated before saying, "Tonight we have slow-cooked lamb stew with root vegetables, and a s

dgment. Brett smiled, pleas

ceful enough. Glenda served us, then retreated to the breakfast nook. I could hear th

to retreat to my study to catch up on a few more emails. The new proposals still sat on my desk, wait

nd the lingering fatigue from Chicago began to weigh on me. My eyelids grew h

ble. My eyes snapped open. I was definitely in my study, not my bedroom. T

om where my personal documents, my laptop, and a stack

my portfolio, his small hands rifling through the delicate, confidential blueprints. One of my expensive

adrenaline flooding my system.

nd, his face smudged with ink, a half-eaten cookie clutched

He wore a brightly colored T-shirt and shorts

out of the chair, my voice rising in volum

me for a second, then stuffed the

th a mixture of disbelief and fury. This wa

n to wail, a theatrical, ear-splitting scream. He kicked his legs

, demanding partners, but never a nine-year-old child throw

baby?" She swept him into her arms, pressing his face to her chest, glaring a

trembling finger at the ruined blueprints. "He was

. Hardy. He didn't mean any harm." She looked at me with a f

"I was told no children! This is a professional environment, and

k to me. "Mr. Parker said it was fine. My babysitter canceled, and

a hovering defensively over her still-sobbing son. I found Brett engro

rom his ears. "Brett Park

, bewildered. "Ale

. His crutches clattered as he struggled to keep up.

cradling Leo, who was now just whimpering, peering at us f

to bring her child into our home?" I demanded

ell, yes, I did. She said she was in a bind, Alex. And he seemed

toward my desk, making him

smudged with ink and cookie crumbs, scribbled over with crayon. My expensive pens were scattered, some broken. My coll

. My favorite perfume, the one Brett gave me for our anniversary, lay shattered on the floor, its precious liquid s

ng and closing uselessly. He looked from the shattered perfume to the ruined blueprints, the

ed, his voice barely audible. He looke

I said, my voice cold and hard, stripped of all emotion, "is your 'sweet kid.' And you