Page 46 of Push

“Honestly? You have limited job options. Your experience as a Crown Prosecutor is highly regarded, but it’s niche. You know this. There’s criminal law, obviously… Corporate litigation…” Melissa paused for a moment, her finger tapping absently on the desk as her mind ticked over. “Are you sure you don’t want to explore your options back in the public service?”

“No.” Maybe if hell froze over after the way those bastards had treated me. “I’m looking for a change.”

“I understand. I do. You’re not the first burnt-out prosecutor who’s sat in that chair because they’ve seen too much. However, my law firm clients expect certain billable targets, and your salary expectations are simply not achievable if you can only commit to working part-time.”

“What about staggered hours?” I pressed. “I can work outside of business hours on a flexible arrangement.”

“Most top firms expect you to work from the office during business hours. And if you hope to move up the ladder to partnership…Well…”

I nodded, even though this was the same bullcrap excuse I’d heard all morning. It was as if every law firm in the city thought my brain had fallen out of my vagina when I’d birthed my baby. Or that, for some reason, a butt on a seat in a city office was more productive. Short-sighted jackasses, the lot of them.

Melissa suggested, “Perhaps if you adjust your salary expectations?”

The quiet confidence I’d faked was lost. My voice was indignant when I shot back, “My salary expectations are completely realistic for the experience I have.” I sighed. “Is there trulynothingyou can offer me?”

Melissa’s finger tapped my resume. “There is…oneoption.” Her smile was almost a grimace. “But it’s not ideal.”

What was ideal at this point? “I’d like to hear it just the same.”

“I have one client who approached me knowing you were available. He specifically asked for you. He’s actually why I reached out when I heard you were interviewing with the other recruiters this morning.”

“I’m interested to know more.”

“He isparticular.”

Melissa’s emphasis on the word“particular”wasn’t lost on me. It was code for “The guy’s a dickhead.” Great. History repeating.

“And it’s only paralegal work…” she added. “Technically…”

My heart plummeted out of the bottom of my stilettos.Paralegal. A demotion. We’d started the interview discussing partnership, and now I’d been dropped to the bottom of the food chain. It wasn’t that paralegals weren’t valuable—truly, they did some of the most challenging work of all—but my mind stuttered over all my study, my experience, my awards, and the years of late nights and sacrifices.

Was becoming a parent truly the end of it all? Maybe. But one option was better thannooption.

I swallowed my pride. “And the salary?”

“Six figures. Again…my client is…particular.”

“But the role is part-time?”

“If you’re lucky, very much so.”

I bowed my head, searching for answers in the prim hands I’d folded in my lap. My body was a statue, but my mind raced. I thought about Noah. I even did what Toby asked and thought about whatIwanted, too. I thought about how much happier I was when there was some other part of me that wasn’t only “Toby’s wife” or “Noah’s mum”—and how much I dreaded being in the house alone with too much time to think.

The answer didn’t take long to find in all the noise rattling about in my mind. No matter how small, I wanted a part ofmeback.

There was no hint of my shattered pride when I asked, “When can I interview for the role?”

16

He Shared the Load

Toby

Noah’s chubby fist clenchedhis banana for dear life, and his red, puffy eyes tracked me like a hawk from his highchair.

Zero trust.

If we were counting the casualties of World War Fruit, there were big losses for Team Daddy.

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