After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
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"Mommy," Bella whines from the living room couch. "I hungry."
"I know, sweetie, I know. I'm working on it, okay?"
We've been home for less than two minutes. I've just managed to get all our crap inside and take off my high heels. It's already after six and I know they're probably starving. I leave the lunch bags by the door next to Bella's backpack and my purse and grab Rory under his arms to bring him with me into the kitchen.
"Want pizza," Bella says from where she's bouncing up and down on the couch. She knows she's not supposed to, but I don't reprimand her because I know it will start some kind of temper tantrum. And quite frankly, I'm too tired to deal with it. It's been a day from hell. I'm lucky I still have a job after that scheduling fiasco.
"Not tonight, Bella."
"Yes."
I take a deep breath and try my hardest to remain calm.
"No, sweetie. We don't have any tonight."
"Pizzzzzzzzaaaaaa," she yells. "Want pizzzzaaaaa."
I put Rory in his high-chair, drop a few cheerios on his tray and turn to the fridge while I attempt to tune out my daughter. It's easier said than done. She's freaking loud.
I shouldn't be surprised to find that the refrigerator is empty. It's not like I went food shopping, but I'm still staring at it like if I stand there long enough, some kind of food might miraculously appear.
It's not until Rory lets out a loud wail that I close the door and turn to him. "What's going on, baby boy?" I ask.
I realize his fish is on the floor and bend to pick it up. Most kids have stuffed animals, and usually they are some kind of teddy bear. But not my kid. He has a large colorful stuffed fish that's as bright blue as Dory, thanks to my brother.
"I like to fish," he responded when I asked why he bought a stuffed fish for his nephew's first birthday.
I didn't even know they made stuffed animals like that until that point. And, of course, it had to become Rory's favorite toy. The one he slept with and carried around under his arm wherever we went.
"Pizzzzzaaaaa, mommmmmyyyy," Bella shouts and I inhale deeply and let it out slowly while I open the freezer. There's not much there either.
"Mommmyyyyy."
"Please, Bella," I say as I move to the cabinet I use as a pantry. "I'm working on it."
It only has a few items, but I spot a box in the back, and I know it's going to save my night: mac 'n cheese. It must be like dinner for champions. Or losers. Whatever.
"How about mac 'n cheese, Bells?" I ask.
"Yeah," she yells back, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I get a pot of water on the stove and go to change the kids into their pajamas. It takes longer than it should, so the macaroni is a bit more than done when we get back to the kitchen. But it's whatever. It's not like my kids are used to gourmet food. I drain it and get it ready. Bella shrieks happily when I allow her to stir in the powdered cheese.
