Her hands weren’t exactly rock steady. She supposed that wasn’t surprising since she’d managed only about three hours of restless sleep. She’d tried to mask her fatigue with makeup, but her reflection in the bathroom mirror still weighed in on the haggard end of the scale. When she fed and walked Toby and Sadie at seven, Noah had come downstairs looking almost as jittery about the coming meeting as she was. She’d been forced at that point to summon up every ounce of courage to resist bailing on the meeting. Most of the night she’d been imagining the worst—that the discussion with his father would degenerate into an embarrassing shouting match. Though she had no intention of letting her temper get away from her, she wouldn’t be bullied either. And if Noah just sat there and let his father rail at her, well, she didn’t see how they could continue to have any kind of relationship, working or otherwise. But she’d known right then that it was too late to back out, because one look from Noah had made her realize she simply didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.
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