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Christina settled into a chair across from me. I fought the urge to fidget, while she watched me with a tilted head. "How are you doing?"

"Great!" I threw her a megawatt smile.

Christina was clearly unconvinced. Her eyes roamed my face, like an X-ray scanning for every broken piece inside me. It was assessing but not unkind. A doctor looking for the issues so she could make a diagnosis. By the time she was done, I was sure she saw every fear and insecurity floating in my head.

I was back to metrics and deadlines after seven years as a stay-at-home mom, where there was no supervisor to judge or guide you. That life has its own sort of stress. Most nights I went to bed wondering if I had done what my kids needed. It always seemed like I had achieved nothing and yet never stopped moving all day. My wardrobe had consisted of stretched out T-shirts covered in some sort of bodily fluid, and my hair was rarely, if ever, done. I loved it, but in the dead of night, when my insomnia kept me up well past when I'd gotten my daughters back to sleep, I'd wished for a bit of my old life.

Now I had it, and I was terrified. How was I supposed to do this, to be enough for Christina and my girls, all without a partner to help?

Christina sighed and nodded, like she'd finished her assessment and knew the best course of treatment. "As moms, we're expected to keep too many balls in the air, while everyone else applauds our skill without offering to catch a few for us. I want this job to work for your family. I trust you to not take advantage of the flexibility I'm giving you, and in exchange, I'll help make sure none of your important balls hit the ground."

My eyes filled with tears, and I swiped them away before they messed up the makeup I spent too long on that morning. "Is crying a fireable offense?"

Christina laughed, pulling me in for a light hug. "You get settled, and I'll be back in an hour to grab you for the staff meeting. After that, I've scheduled some one-on-one meetings with the hiring managers for you."

I forced another smile, and when she disappeared around the corner, I let my head drop onto the desk with a little bang. 

I tried to look through the materials Christina left me, but the exhaustion from a night spent staring at the ceiling, reeling with anxiety, left my brain as mush. A glance at my watch told me I had just enough time to grab a cup of life-giving nectar before Christina would be back.

In the break room, the ancient Keurig wheezed out my coffee, and I gulped it down, caring more about getting it in my system than about the burn of the too-hot liquid running down my throat.

The ding from my phone warned me time was running out. As I flew out the door, my face slammed into something hard. I groaned and clutched my nose as I fell back.

A pair of hands came around my upper arms and settled me in place. My gaze shot up to deep brown eyes, and suddenly the world was in sharp focus.

It was the most handsome face I had ever seen. A strong nose led to full lips that tipped at the corners like he was perpetually smiling, even when the rest of his face pinched in concern. His dark brown hair, just this side of black, was combed back in a professional style, though a bit too long to be considered clean-cut, and his beard was cropped close and immaculately maintained. Thick, black lashes around his eyes made the brown pop. Why did men get the best lashes?

"Careful there." The low timbre of his voice made goose bumps pop up along my arms. "Are you—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I cut him off with a small smile.

A cold sweat broke across my skin as a surge of guilt at my reaction to him flooded my body. But even the most happily married woman—and I still felt married, no matter what my legal status said—would swoon if they ran into Henry Cavill. No one could blame her for that.

And that pesky gymnastics routine happening in my stomach? Nerves and embarrassment. That was all it was.