Page 20

Lark

The gymnasium doors swing open and he barrels out, a blur of energy and flushed cheeks. “Dad!” His voice is a bright sound in the cool air.

“Hey, buddy.” I scoop him up in a hug that swallows his small frame. The trust Lara has in me, letting me be here for this, it warms me more than my jacket does.

“Did you see me? I did a handstand!”

“I missed it by a minute, buddy. I’m sorry.” I ruffle his hair, and his grin doesn't waver. He launches into a blow-by-blow account of his day, each word punctuated with the enthusiasm only a child possesses, and I find myself wanting to make sure I don’t miss his next meet.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as his tale winds down and I buckle him into his car seat.

“Starving!” He pats his tummy for emphasis.

“Let's fix that.” I close his door and pull out my phone; one quick call to an old friend who owes me a few favors secures lunch and I slide into the driver’s seat.

As I start the car, Win’s chatter fills the space, his excitement infectious. “Can we get burgers, Dad? With extra fries?”

“Burgers it is,” I say, smiling at his enthusiasm. “And maybe a milkshake, too?”

His eyes light up as they meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Chocolate?”

“Of course,” I reply, pulling out of the parking lot. The drive is short, but Win’s stories make it feel even shorter. He talks about his friends, his favorite games, and the new trick he’s learning in gymnastics that sounds really complicated, yet fun. I love his ability to approach challenges with curiosity and excitement.

We arrive at the diner, and I park the car. Win practically bounces out of his seat when I unbuckle him. How does he have so much energy even after a gymnastics class? I grab his hand and we walk inside, the familiar smell of grilled food and the sound of clinking dishes welcoming us. It’s a far cry from what I’m used to, but that’s fine. Sometimes it’s fun to just get back to basics.

“Hey, Lark!” My old friend, Frank, calls out from behind the counter. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Frank. Thanks for squeezing us in,” I say, giving him a nod.

“No problem at all. Anything for you and your little man,” Frank replies, ruffling Win’s hair. “What can I get you guys?”

“Two burgers, extra fries, and a chocolate milkshake,” I say, glancing down at Win, who nods eagerly.

“Coming right up,” Frank says, heading to the kitchen.

We find a booth by the window, and Win climbs in, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Dad, can we go to the park after this?”

“We actually have plans, buddy,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “But I promise you’ll have fun.”

Our food arrives quickly, and we dig in. Win’s face lights up with every bite, and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of joy. These moments, simple as they are, mean everything to me.

As we finish our meal, I look at Win, his face smeared with chocolate milkshake, and I know that no matter what, I’ll always be there for him. For every handstand, every meal, every moment that I can be present for, I will be.

After we’re loaded up and driving, I stop by another restaurant – this one’s upscale and the order is already ready to go.

“Mr. Lark, your order.” The chef himself greets us, handing over two heavy bags that smells like heaven.

“Thanks, Marco.” I take the bags and place them carefully beside me in the empty passenger seat.

Back on the road, I steal glances at my son through the rearview mirror.

“What’s that?” he asks me.

“You’ll see,” I say, glancing at his car seat. It’s top of the line, of course. His safety is too important to risk, and I’m not about to settle for less than the gold standard for him.

“Where are we going now?” he asks, peering out his window at the city flying by.

“Somewhere special.” I smile, keeping the secret just a little longer. My heart swells, a mix of love and fierce protectiveness. He's my world, and I'd do anything for him. Lara, too. They are my unexpected family. My chance to show that I’m a good father and man. And I'll be damned if I don't rise to the occasion every single time.

The hum of the engine cuts as I park in front of my childhood home. I unclip my son's car seat and his small hand finds mine. We walk up to the door, his chatter about the day's adventures never ceasing, and I love listening to every word out of his mouth.

“Grandma's house!” He presses his face against the cool glass beside the front door as it swings open.

“Hey!” My mom sounds excited, happy, and full of love. She scoops him up, peppering his face with kisses, and he giggles, squirming for freedom.

“I’ve got something for you,” I say and hand her one of the bags from the restaurant. “Dinner. There's enough for both of you.”

Her expression softens, a silent thank you that doesn't need words. She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

“I appreciate it,” she says.

“Can I go play?” Win asks, his eyes huge and soulful. My mom nods and I respond at the same time.

“Go play, buddy.” I nudge him gently toward the backyard and he dashes off, leaving behind only a squeal of excitement.

“Thank you,” my mother says, holding the bag. She moves inside and I follow as she takes the bag to the kitchen.

“Call if you need anything,” I say, lingering just a moment more. Then I slip outside and give my son a huge hug, planting a kiss on top of his head. Satisfied he's in good hands, I head back to my car, ready for the next part of my evening.

I stride into the office, my arms balancing a vase of assorted white jasmine blossoms and the other bag of gourmet food. The scent of jasmine and food fills the air around me as I head straight for Lara's office.

She’s behind her desk and I study her for half a heartbeat before stepping into her office and speaking. “I’ve got something for you,” I say, setting the vase on her desk with confidence. The blooms catch the light, their textures and variety beautiful, but nowhere near as beautiful as she is.

Lara looks up, her expression a mixture of surprise and something unreadable. I’m taking a gamble, because she could be furious I’m doing something so brazen and obvious here at work. “What's this?” Her voice is quiet as she speaks, but I see her lean closer to the jasmine, her gaze inspecting the incredible flowers.

“Flowers.” I state the obvious in a tone heavy with humor, and she gives me a playfully annoyed look before reaching out to touch a petal gently. “And food.” I place the bag on her desk, then gently slide it toward her. This is my silent acknowledgement that I know she never eats enough.

She accepts the bag, peering inside with genuine amusement. “How did you know I forgot to eat?” There’s something so warm and pure in her eyes I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go. One day, I plan to do just that, but for now, I’ll settle for making her happy and taking care of her.

“Lucky guess,” I say, but we both know it's more than that. I watch her, I know her routines, and I know that she’s not great at taking care of herself. And there’s where I come in. I want to be the one to care for her, not just because she’s my son’s mother, not even just because I’m in love with her. But because I don’t ever want her to feel unimportant, unloved, or alone ever again.

“Thank you,” she whispers. But I’m not here to intrude, not really. So, I take a step back and speak.

“Anytime.” My reply is gruff, an attempt to preserve some semblance of professionalism that’s long gone. I turn and walk away, each step taking me further from her office but not from what's growing between us. I can't help but glance back once, just in time to see her face, still turned toward me, framed by flowers and lit up with a smile that tightens the muscles in my stomach.

And hours later, while I’m sitting at my desk trying to work but thinking of her instead, I think about the next steps I plan to take.

Until the door to my office swings open and Shana stands there, her eyes locking on mine. She jerks her head toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

“Sure, I say, pushing back from my desk. I follow her lead, trying to read the situation from the set line of her shoulders, but I’m left with nothing. That old tinge of fear I’m about to get fired fills me. I did break some rules today, I think, and even if I’m skirting them, I could be facing discipline or a warning to be more covert in my wooing of Lara. I’ll take things as they come if that’s the case, because I can’t give Lara up. Not now. Not ever again.

We move through the office, past the break room, beyond people talking in small groups of two and three, discussing work, ideas, and even some personal information; and I notice the way conversations hush as we pass. Either something is going on, or my imagination is working overtime. Then again, maybe everyone knows what’s going on between Lara and me and are afraid to say anything.

Shana doesn't speak until we reach Lara's office. She knocks once, sharply, then swings the door open and gestures for me to go inside as she steps away and waits. I walk inside and she follows, the door clicking shut behind us.

“Have a seat,” Lara says, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Her expression is unreadable, and my heart begins to thump harder than I’d like.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, taking the offered seat. My palms are suddenly damp, but I hide them under the table, running them down my slacks to get rid of the incriminating moisture.

“Everything's fine,” Lara says, but something in the way her gaze flicks to Shana has me even more worried. Something big is about to happen. But is it a good big or a bad big?

I sit up straighter, preparing for whatever comes next. Being fired is unlikely; my gut tells me that much. But what else could have this level of formality and secrecy all mixed up in one?

“Thanks for picking up Win today,” Lara says, breaking into my thoughts. Her voice is steady, as if she has none of the tension I feel.

“Anytime,” I say. “He's a great kid.” And it's true—Win has become the center of my world in a way I'd never expected.

“Good.” Lara nods, her lips curving into a smile. “Anyway, we need to talk about some things.”

I sense Shana sitting down in another seat, her gaze staring holes into me.

“Okay,” I say, bracing myself for the worst. Whatever it is, I'm ready.

The silence stretches out as Lara and Shana seem to speak a silent conversation I’m not part of. Then Shana shifts in her chair, a rustle of fabric breaking the stillness before she turns to me. She takes a deep breath and I find myself wishing they’d just get it over with, whatever ‘it’ is.

For now, I study them. They're two sides of the same coin, brilliant minds in sleek business attire, their gazes sharp and assessing. The deep blue dress Lara is wearing leaves my mouth watering, and whether they intended to or not, Shana’s wearing a blouse in the same shade and a dark fitted skirt that’s all professional.

“We've been looking for a third business partner,” Shana says, her voice crisp, but not cold. It's a statement, direct and confusing. Why are they telling me this? Unless…a ripple of surprise courses through me.

“Really?” It’s not so much a question as a statement designed to get them talking faster, otherwise we might all die of old age before everyone’s intentions are made clear.

Lara leans forward, planting her elbows on the desk and pressing her palms together while lacing her fingers.

There's a sparkle in her eyes; she looks both determined and amused with the turn of events. “We all have the same goals for the future,” she says, her gaze locking on mine with a steadiness that feels safe. “And you’re trustworthy and always seem to have the company's best interests at heart. So you're a smart choice.”

To say I’m shocked is an understatement. They’re offering me a chance to become a partner?

I blink, processing her words, the gravity of what they're proposing settling on my chest like a stubborn elephant refusing to move. Trustworthy. Smart choice. When she and I had talked about the future on my yacht, I thought we were being more personal. That we were discussing the future in a way that hinted at living together, being together, in a relationship. Not a business sense.

Had I read that whole situation all wrong? Was she just thinking business while I was thinking about our future together? The thought stings, but I push it aside because they’re both looking at me like they’re expecting some kind of response or answer.

“Thank you,” I say, the words almost sticking in my throat. “That means a lot.” I clear my throat, watching their expressions but seeing no change in either of them.

To be honest, I’m thrilled. Honored. But the sting of possible rejection waters down those emotions and leaves me unable to fully enjoy the moment. Am I miscalculating things?

“It’s a big decision, so you have as much time as you need to decide.” Shana says, and I can’t help but wonder if she knows the extent of mine and Lara’s relationship. Fling? Whatever we call it, there’s something there, and I worry it might cause problems later if she doesn’t know. But I can talk to Lara later, in private, about all of that.

“Thank you,” I say with a nod of my head. Over the years, I’ve learned to never take a deal without sleeping on it, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. Well, that and have a conversation with Lara.

Because deep in my mind, there a cautionary whisper, a sliver of doubt that worms its way into the forefront of my thoughts. Is this a good choice?

The lines between personal and professional have always been clear-cut, like the sharp angles of the skyscrapers outside the window. But now, as I sit here in front of Lara, the woman who's come to mean everything to me, who is so much more than just my boss, those lines blur.

This is a step beyond mixing business and pleasure. It's a leap into a possibly devastating place for both of us if one or the other – our professional or personal relationships – don’t work out.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Shana says, standing up. But she moves to my side, offering her hand. I stand and take it, accepting her shake and her softly-spoken congratulations. With that, she’s out the door and gone, and I turn back to Lara.

“Would this change…” My voice trails off, unsure how to phrase the question that's burning inside me. I don’t want a wedge between us, or to risk losing my son or her if things go south.

“Change what?” Lara asks, her expression softening just a fraction, as if she understands the fear I’m facing and wants to meet my concerns head on.

“Us,” I say simply, because there's no other word for the tangled mess our lives have become. We’re lovers, friends, coworkers, I’m her baby daddy, and I’m in love with her. It’s a mess, and one that could be made more complicated by this move.

“Only if we let it,” she says, lifting her shoulders like she’s already considered every avenue and thinks the benefits outweigh the risks.

Only if we let it.

I turn the phrase over in my mind, trying to find comfort in her certainty. My heart thunders, my mouth feels dry, and I suddenly realize this would shorten my plans to grow my wealth, possibly by several years.

The thought of mixing personal desires and professional goals on this level is intimidating, but I can’t help wonder what’s the worst that could happen… and what’s the best that could happen?

“Like she said, you have time. There’s no need to make a decision now. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have, though.” Lara sounds calm, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement in her tone that splashes over me.

“I don’t make deals like this without sleeping on them,” I say, just to let her know that I’m not about to jump into anything before I’m ready or have considered every possibility of how things could go well…. Or terribly.

“Well, I did draft this up,” she says, sliding a packet of papers my direction.

It’s an offer, and I plan to read every single letter, cover to cover, and take the contents to heart. I trust Lara, but when it comes to business, protecting ourselves is the only sane move. And while I don’t make the most sane choices all the time, this time I will.

But even as I take the packet, I already know I’m going to say yes.

This is a risk, but life's full of risks, and this one—this one feels right.