Must Like Kids

“I didn’t want to be there,” he agreed. “But that’s not why I was late.”

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Several beats of silence followed. “I had to take a call from my mother.”

Julia snorted. “Right.”

“So cynical.” He made a tsking noise. “So, what are you doing working on a Saturday? I recall someone telling me something about how work wasn’t her main priority. ‘It’s what I do, not who I am,’ or some such rebuke. But maybe I misunderstood.”

She ignored the barb. “I came across a few articles that I thought you might find enlightening.”

They were about child-rearing and what new parents could expect. She figured Alec could use the insight, both into what made children act the way they did and what parents went through as a result. Of course, no one really understood parenthood until they were in the trenches, living it day to day. At that point, all of the diatribes from a childless person were relegated to the trash heap.

“Are you at your office?” he asked as if she hadn’t spoken.

“On a Saturday? No way.” Then she couldn’t resist needling him. “I may decide to slip in a little work here and there on a weekend, but, unlike you, I do it from home. While I’ve been surfing the internet for information, my kids have been occupied finishing up their homework.”

“Homework! On a Saturday? That’s worse than making a high-paid corporate executive stay late for a meeting,” he told her, alluding to the remark she’d made about Alec scheduling after-hours meetings with his staff. “And you called me unpopular.”

Through the beveled glass door of the closet-sized room that served as her home office, Julia could see into the kitchen. At the table, Colin was copying down his spelling words and Danielle was working on math problems. Their sour expressions made it clear that neither one of them was happy with her at the moment.