“You can do a couple things and succeed,” he pointed out, “or you can try to do fifteen things and fail at all of them. Clarify your goals. What are you doing? And why are you doing it?”

And then I heard him walk away, leaving me with his rhetorical questions.

He was right. Every ounce of me knew that something had to give, and I’d end up having to let go of something I very much wanted just so everything else in my life didn’t suffer. I was one person with limited hours in a day and too much desire to fill it.

And too many people with their own expectations.

I wanted Marek Industries to grow, because it was something I had built from scratch. I was proud of the work we did, and I could see its effect around the globe in the structures it had built and the people it employed.

I wanted to sit in a Senate seat in Washington, D.C., because I’d read too much and seen too much to trust anyone other than myself. I couldn’t watch the news or read a paper without thinking about what I would’ve done differently.

I wanted my son to smile at me and joke around with me. I wanted to tell him stories about me as a kid, for us to watch football games together, and I wanted to teach him things. I had loved him since the first time I saw him, and I was desperate for him to know that my decisions weren’t his fault. They were mine, and I regretted them.

And I wanted Easton.

I wanted to see her in a beautiful dress across a crowded room, knowing those clothes would be on my bedroom floor later that night.

I wanted some of these things more than others, but I didn’t want to give up any of them.

“Ms. Bradbury!” someone behind me called. “Please have a seat.”

I glanced to my side, my arms still crossed over my chest, and spotted Easton handing a rack of water bottles to one of the coach’s assistants.

She twisted back around, sparing me a quick glance before turning to the small party where my father sat.

“Oh, no, thank you,” she replied to Principal Shaw. “I’m just making the rounds. Helping out…”

She stood not five feet away, but it felt like much closer. I could feel her heat, and my whole body buzzed with awareness of her.

She looked at me again, nodding politely. “Mr. Marek,” she greeted.

I nodded to her, seeing Shaw rise from his chair out of the corner of my eye.

“Ms. Bradbury has been doing wonderful things in her class,” he told everyone. “We were all very hesitant at first, but it’s working phenomenally. Mr. Marek,” he called from behind, “Christian seems to be doing well. You must be pleased.”

I twisted my head, eyeing Easton through my sunglasses but speaking to Shaw. “Yes, I’m very happy with her.” I tried to keep the smirk off my face. “She has a very hands-on approach.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she glanced at Shaw, looking half nervous and half enraged.

I snorted and focused back on the soccer match, letting my lips curl into a smile. But before I could enjoy that one too much, she retaliated, getting me back.

“And Mr. Marek has graciously accepted an invitation to speak on Career Day,” she announced, sounding unusually cheerful. “I may have dangled a nice lunch to sweeten the deal,” she told Shaw.

What the fuck?

“Well” – he laughed – “we beg, borrow, and bribe around here. Easton’s catching on quickly.”

Yeah, no shit. Career Day?

“Ms. Bradbury,” I cut in, “may I speak to you about Christian’s project, please?”

She nodded, her small smile saying she knew she’d gotten me, and I walked down the sideline with her following behind me.

Stopping just far enough that we were clear of listening ears, I faced the soccer match and spoke to her at my side.

“I meant what I said.” I spoke softly. “I am very happy with you, you know? Especially with the way I woke up the other night.”

I caught her sharp intake of breath and saw her thumbnail go immediately between her teeth. She was trying to hide a smile, and I found it endearing and frustrating. Hiding what was going on between us had an element of excitement and turned out to be great foreplay for later. We were living two different relationships, so it kept things constantly new and unpredictable.

However, I wanted us to have liberties that we couldn’t have in public. I wanted her to smile at me and to be able to reach out and touch her.

But I couldn’t, and that part was getting increasingly annoying.

“I want to do that to you again,” she said softly, her breathy voice turning me on.

“Do you?” I played, remembering waking up and how my hands instantly went into her hair as she took me into her mouth.

“Yes,” she responded, dropping her voice to a small whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

And I looked down at her, seeing her eyes locked on the match and an innocent blush cross her cheeks as she bit her nail.

Damn. I blinked, turning back toward the field, realizing I didn’t know when I was going to see her again. And I needed her soon.

“Good job!”

She suddenly broke out in a yell, clapping her hands, and I shifted, refocusing my attention and seeing Christian and his teammates celebrating on the field.

I let out a frustrated sigh and clapped as well, feeling like a bigger asshole because I’d missed it.

You can do a couple things and succeed, or you can try to do fifteen things and fail at all of them.

My son’s black hair was shiny with sweat, and I smiled, seeing him enjoying the win with his friends.

“Mr. Marek, may we have a picture?” a woman asked, holding some high-tech digital camera.

I nodded, but Easton pulled out of the picture before she took the shot, adjusting her ponytail and trying to act nonchalant.

The woman shrugged with a polite smile and walked off.

I narrowed my eyes, studying Easton. “It’s just a friendly shot for the school paper,” I assured her, having seen the woman’s school sweatshirt. “A parent and teacher talking isn’t scandal-worthy, Easton.”

She didn’t make eye contact or say anything, and before I could pry, she smiled widely, seeing Christian heading over.

“Hey, great job,” she exclaimed. “You did amazing.”

“Yes, you did great,” I told him, seeing his smile fall when he looked at me.

“Were you even watching?” he shot back.

I dropped my eyes, thankfully disguised behind my glasses. I didn’t think he’d realized I was here, since I’d been late. But he’d known, and he’d seen that I was, again, distracted.

Inhaling a deep breath, I lifted my chin. “I thought we could go to Sucré for some dessert before dinner,” I suggested. “To celebrate.”

He shook his head, brushing me off. “I’m going to hang out with friends.”

“Your friends can wait an hour,” I pressed. “If Ms. Bradbury came, would you be less bored?”

No sense in coddling him with a softer approach. My son wasn’t an idiot, and I wouldn’t try to play him like one.

“Thanks, but I need to get home,” Easton interrupted.

“Christian?” I prompted him for an answer, ignoring Easton’s protest.

He looked between his teacher and me, seeming to consider it. “Can I drive?” he asked.

The corner of my mouth lifted, actually liking his boldness.

When I didn’t answer right away, Easton stepped in, urging me.

“No, he can’t drive,” she answered for me. “Ty—” She stopped and corrected herself. “Mr. Marek, he doesn’t have a permit,” she pointed out.

I eyed Christian. “Have you ever driven before?”

“Not in the city but yes.”

I nodded, giving in.

He turned and started walking for the parking lot, and I followed, glancing behind me to a baffled Easton.

“Get in the car,” I ordered. “Don’t act like you’re thinking about saying no.”

“No, wait,” Easton burst out. “That’s a light!”