A knock sounds at my door and Jessica pops her head in warily.
 
 “What is it?” I bark.
 
 “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Vallejo,” she says warily. “But one of our writers needs to speak with you.”
 
 “I hardly have time for that.”
 
 “She says it’s urgent.”
 
 I roll my eyes and impatiently gesture for Jessica to send the writer in. The woman walks in hesitantly and I motion for her to take a seat in the chair in front of me.
 
 “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Vallejo.”
 
 “What is it?” I ask impatiently.
 
 “I-I…”
 
 “I’m a busy man.”
 
 “I was hoping to talk to you about a promotion.”
 
 I let out a laugh through my nose.
 
 “I’ve been here atThe NY Daily Newsfor a few years now. I’ve never asked for much. I work hard. The truth is, I really need the money to help pay for my son’s school. He got accepted to—”
 
 “I don’t need your life story,” I snap.
 
 “I-I just hope you can consider it.” Her eyes glaze over and I see she’s on the verge of crying.
 
 Normally, I would say “no” outright. Normally, tears would have no effect on me. But now, all I feel like is an asshole who just made this innocent woman upset because of my own mess of a life. It isn’t fair to her.
 
 I take a deep breath, releasing my pent-up emotions on the exhale.
 
 “I’m sorry,” I say softly.
 
 She looks up at me curiously.
 
 “I’ll have HR bring me your file, and see what I can do.”
 
 “Thank you, Mr. Vallejo.” She stands up suddenly and takes my hand in hers, shaking it gratefully. “Thank you.”
 
 When she leaves, closing the door behind her, I put my head in my hands. I should have just stayed in the Hamptons. I’m in no state to play boss.
 
 Chapter 29
 
 Erica
 
 Josie and I walk into the expansive lobby of my work. She coos as she looks up at the large chandelier. The security guard, Dominic, gives me a warm, but confused smile as he looks at the baby in my arms.
 
 “Ms. Gunner, who is this little one?” he asks, looking at her fondly.
 
 “This is my daughter, Josie,” I say. “She’s starting daycare here today.”
 
 “I didn’t know you had a baby! She’s beautiful. She must be around my daughter’s age,” he says, holding up his hands to play peekaboo with her.
 
 “It’s a fun age. I can hardly keep up. Soon, she’ll be walking,” I say fretfully.
 
 “Then there’s no stopping her,” he says.