I spent most of the morning buying furniture, bedding, and toys that would appeal to a three-year-old. At least, I hoped so. I had to take the salesperson’s word for it. By noon, I’d accomplished most of the things I wanted to do on Sam’s behalf. Now, it was time to deal with my job.
Henson had been sending me nasty emails and texts all morning, which I’d ignored. Whatever was chapping his ass would just have to wait until I was actually at work. I’d never felt such a sense of freedom before. It was like having Sam around had burst open a dam inside me.
All I’d ever done was toil nonstop, take my s**t out on my employees, and expect results. How could anyone ever truly be happy in such an atmosphere? Maybe Sam was the straw that had broken the workaholic’s back.
In the space of twenty-f
