Crazy About Her Impossible Boss. Ally Blake

I like Mrs Seedsman’s hair too.”

      Happy with that, Sonny gave her another flash of his gorgeous smile before easing back into his book.

      Lucinda turned to Cat. “Jacob K?”

      “New kid,” said Cat. “Sonny was put in charge of him.”

      “Of course he was. He’s the best. Anything else?”

      Cat finished rinsing the plates and popping them in the dishwasher, before reaching for a glass of wine she’d clearly had airing in wait for Lucinda to get home and take over Sonny duties.

      “All good. Came home chatty. Didn’t touch his sandwich again.”

      Lucinda sighed. Once he was down, she’d be online searching for lunchbox ideas for kids who refused to eat sandwiches, as heaven forbid Sonny eat something she could prepare and freeze in advance.

      She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Bath time, kiddo.”

      “Okay,” said Sonny, not moving from his book.

      Lucinda considered that her five-minute warning, knowing by now she’d have to ask at least three more times before he actually moved. It gave her time to unwind and settle into the different pace and sounds at home compared to the office.

      Time to shed her work persona—proactive, sophisticated, tough, respected—put on her Mum skin—reactive, threadbare, fingers crossed she was making all the right choices, and a massive soft touch when it came to her boy—and remember that, whatever worries she dealt with at work, they always came second to this.

      And always would.

      A half-hour later, Sonny was bathed and dressed, his hair a little wet from being washed, his pyjamas soft from the two nights they’d already been worn. She could get another night out of them. He only had one other pair that fit. The joys of owning a growing boy.

      Once he’d given Cat a goodnight hug, Sonny ran back into his room.

      Lucinda carried him the last few metres, just because she could. It might not be an option for much longer. At eight years of age, the kid’s feet were nearly dragging on the floor.

      Once Sonny was settled, Lucinda tucked herself up on his bed, making sure not to block his bedside lamp so he had enough light to read. They took turns reading and listening. When she dozed off for the second time, Lucinda gently closed the book and went through the rest of the night-time routine: butterfly kiss, nose-tip kiss and kiss on both cheeks, followed by a seven-second cuddle.

      Special toys were found and tucked into their respective nightly positions—Dashy the Dog behind Sonny’s neck, Punky the Penguin behind his knees. Blankets were moved up to the chin, star-shaped night-light put on low.

      This was the time of day when she felt so lucky to have this all to herself—this routine, this sweetness, this boy. Her heart filled her chest. She loved the kid so much.

      Though give it ten more minutes and if he called her name needing a drink, or a trip to the toilet, she’d wish with all that same heart that she had a partner to shoulder the load.

      Such were the swings and roundabouts of single motherhood.

      Lucinda made it to the door before turning to blow one last kiss. “Goodnight, little man.”

      “Night, Mum.”

      “Love you.”

      Yawn. Then, “Love you more.”

      She went to close the door before she was stopped by a, “Hey, Mum?”

      “Yeah, buddy.”

      “Did Angus ring you today?”

      Lucinda narrowed her eyes. “We work about three metres from one another all day long. We can wave from where we sit. So why would he…? The ringtone!”

      Sonny tucked his sheet up to his nose to smother his laughter.

      “Did you have a hand in that, little man?”

      “Angus messaged last night to ask me how. Cat had let me use the tablet to research planets for homework,” he added quickly. “Not playing games.”

      “Hmm. You are a rascal.”

      Sonny grinned. The sweetest, most good-natured kid in the world, he was the least rascally kid ever. He made better choices than she ever would.

      She was working on improving that score.

      “Goodnight, little man.”

      “Goodnight, Mum.”

      She closed the door then notched it open just a sliver before padding back to the kitchen to stare inside the fridge in hope of healthy inspiration.

      All the while thinking about Sonny. And Angus.

      She knew they not so secretly messaged one another. She’d been the one to set up the private account when Sonny had worn her down with begging. And only after Angus had insisted it was fine with him so long as Lucinda had full access to the conversations.

      Not that she checked much these days. It was mostly links to “try not to laugh” videos. But it had all started after a less innocent incident a few years back.

      Sonny had woken up feeling sick one day, and none of Lucinda’s usual methods of cajoling, encouraging and downright bribery had convinced him to get ready for kindergarten. So, with a huge, unwieldy backlist of things to do waiting for her at work, she’d taken Sonny to the office with her for the first time.

      Angus—completely up to date on every small thing—had shocked the living heck out of Lucinda when he’d offered to let Sonny hang with him in his office. After a good two and a half seconds of consideration she’d handed over Sonny’s tablet—a necessary evil of modern parenting—and left the men to their own devices.

      Less than an hour in, over a mid-morning fruit snack, Angus had wangled from Sonny the real reason behind the “sore tummy”. The kindy group had spent time that week making Father’s Day cards.

      Sonny—being Sonny—had put up his hand to ask his teacher what to do if he didn’t have a father to give a card to.

      Lucinda had made it her life’s mission to make sure Sonny understood that, whether a child had a mum and a dad, or two mums or two dads, grandparents, siblings or a mum and a super-cool aunt, every type of family could be as rich with love as any other.

      Unfortunately, other kids had pretty set opinions on what a “family” ought to look like and had made it their mission that day to make sure Sonny knew it too.

      When Angus had pulled her aside that afternoon, while Sonny had been learning how to use the photocopier with one of the guys in accounts, Lucinda had felt sideswiped. Not only that Sonny had gone through such an ordeal but that he’d spilled to Angus. And not her.

      Angus had taken her by both hands—something he’d never done before that day—had sat her down, made sure she was looking him in the eye and explained that he’d told Sonny how he’d grown up without a dad too.

      She’d learned more about his childhood and his motivations for why he worked so hard in that one conversation than she had in all the time they’d known one another. And, when Angus had assured her that his imperfect mother’s love had been his north star, the guiding light that had kept him on the right path, she’d been hard pressed not to sob.

      Things had changed between them that day.

      In trusting Angus with her son, she’d given him the impetus to step out from behind the figurative wall from behind which he engaged with the world, leading to a moment between them that had been honest, raw and real. And the tiny, innocent glint of a crush she’d happily harboured had erupted, splintering off into a thousand replicas, spiralling uncontrollably into all directions like fireworks,