The Man Who Has No Sight - Victoria Quinn Page 0,25

clients. I could do emails and texts in the residence, but most of my time was spent physically doing tasks.

“Oh…I’m sorry.” He sighed into the phone. “I…I didn’t really consider that.”

If I’d known he needed me, I would have moved things around to accommodate Derek, but that wasn’t something I could do every day. If he expected this to happen every time he stayed at work for an extended period of time, we’d have a problem.

“I can’t step away right now, Cleo.”

I was a bit annoyed that he expected me to take care of Derek, that he’d forgotten I worked for a living, probably because I was a woman. He was used to me dropping everything for him, but childcare was such a strenuous job that I couldn’t juggle it too. That wasn’t my job anyway. If we were married, that would be different, but we hadn’t even talked about how to handle this. “I can take care of it. Don’t worry about it.” I eyed Derek on the couch, watching him watch TV. “But I can’t do this every day.”

“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

“Is there anything I should be doing with him?” I knew how to entertain him on a flight, but day-to-day operations were foreign territory to me.

“He can have a small snack, but he needs to work on his homework at the table. Afterward, he can watch TV.”

“Alright. Bye.” I was about to hang up.

“Thank you, Cleo,” he said quickly.

“Yeah…no problem.”

I had to cancel a lot of appointments at the last minute and ask Matt to cover for me. Deacon was gone really late, so I really couldn’t salvage the day at all. I worked on my laptop, but there was only so much I could do remotely.

I made dinner for Derek and me, and when Deacon still wasn’t home, I got him ready for bed.

Taking care of him was easy because he was a sweet boy. But I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I weren’t stressed about all the responsibility I’d shirked that afternoon. I was supposed to negotiate for a raise. Blowing off my job to take care of my boyfriend’s kid was not a good segue into that conversation. I’d never blown off anything before, unless I had the flu, so people assumed I was either dying or had a family emergency.

Deacon walked through the door at almost eight in the evening.

Derek was already asleep.

He was in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with his black coat on top. He took off his satchel, hung up his coat, and then walked to the dining table where he left his bag. Then he turned to me and kissed me, like a husband coming home to his wife. “Did you make dinner? I’m starving.”

The question was a little offensive, but I tried not to let it get to me. I didn’t mind doing things for him like making dinner, but coming home late and asking for food without saying much else was a bit misogynistic. “Yeah, it’s in the fridge.”

He grabbed the plate and put it in the microwave. “Sorry, I didn’t have lunch today.” He didn’t even wait for it to be fully heated before he pulled it out and grabbed a fork. He took a bite on the way to the dining table. “This is good.” He sat and scarfed everything down.

Since he hadn’t eaten all day, I let his comment slide.

“How was Derek?”

I took the seat beside him. “Good. He did his homework then we had dinner. He’s already asleep.”

“Thanks. I was in the lab all day.” He took big bites and shoveled the food into his mouth, his eyes on his plate most of the time.

“I can always bring you lunch.”

“I can’t eat in the lab, and I didn’t want to leave… It just happened.”

I nodded.

He finished everything then washed it down with the beer he took out of the fridge. Now that he’d been fed, he was much more relaxed, like he’d been hangry for just a few seconds. He ran his fingers through his hair then looked at me, turning apologetic. “Thank you for picking up Derek and watching him today. I’ve never had him on my own like this before. I’m not sure when Valerie is going to want him back… This is unprecedented.”

I understood the situation. “Of course. I’m always here. But what are we going to do the rest of the week?”

He shook his head as he sighed. “I’m not

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