The Child Comes First by Elizabeth Ashtree

for so long, I can’t help but get a charge out of seeing him fall on his face.”
    Normally, he would have nodded, smiled and agreed that Greg was an arrogant prick. Tonight, he wondered how Jayda would see things. He found himself saying, “Maybe something else was on his mind.”
    â€œYeah,” she said, making it a multisyllable word, to imply he’d just said something entirely obvious. “His wife left him.”
    He gaped at her. “But they just had a baby. The kid can’t be more than a few months old.”
    â€œUh-huh. So. Maybe she found something better. Or maybe he did.” She shrugged and went back to swirling her ice around and around.
    He shifted back from the table, flummoxed. “Maybe she was sick of him focusing on his career to the exclusion of his family,” he suggested quietly.
    She laughed out loud, exposing her perfectly aligned, sparkling white teeth. “Like you’ve ever focused on anything but your career. Like you ever would. Greg’s wife knew he was goal-oriented when she married him.” Megan leaned toward him, exuding sexuality. “Just like I know that same fact about you.”
    Was she telling him she’d put up with it, accept it, if he were to nudge their relationship toward marriage? Suddenly he realized she had every reason to expect him to take things in that direction. He’d always known she’d be an ideal mate for someone with his ambitions—beautiful, educated, enterprising, ruthless. Married to her, Simon knew he’d attain the highest echelons of his chosen profession. Megan would accept nothing less.
    He could have her. Tonight, or for a life together. She’d made that clear in many subtle ways that he’d barely noticed until just now. So many men wanted her. He would be the envy of them all. Capturing Megan would be a social and professional coup. And Glen would approve, might even reward him by making him a partner.
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” he said, suddenly impatient to get to his mission for the evening. He didn’t want to think about the future, only the next few hours.
    She smiled knowingly, sure of herself. “Let’s,” she agreed. “Your place or mine?”
    â€œYours,” he said, just as he always had. “I’ll follow you home.” And they left the restaurant together.
    As he drove his Mustang behind her Audi TT, he had to try not to notice the pretty chalk drawing sitting on the passenger seat. Tiffany had an artistic talent beyond her years and she’d made this picture just for him. He hadn’t yet decided what he should do with it. She’d said it was a picture of her happy place. And it was clearly a depiction of the home where he’d grown up. The drawing reminded Simon of where he’d come from. Whenever he looked at it, he was overcome by an inexplicable yearning to go back in time so he could live contentedly in that home once more. Yet, he was certain he didn’t actually want that lifestyle again. Too prosaic, too middle-class, too ordinary. He’d always craved success and wealth and the finer things the world had to offer. He’d pursued them tenaciously.
    He parked his car at the curb, glanced down at Tiffany’s picture and scowled. What would Megan think of Tiffany? Worse still, what would Tiffany think of Megan?
    That Megan was pompous and vain and mean-spirited, no doubt.
    Suddenly, he had no interest in going inside. Not even for mindless sex.
    He got out of the car and made his way to where Megan stood on the sidewalk. “I can’t go in with you,” he admitted, trying his best to inflect disappointment into his voice. “I just don’t feel right. Maybe something I ate, maybe the flu. I don’t want to take the chance of making you sick.”
    She pouted and cajoled and promised she would make him feel better. This just made his stomach hurt for real. What was he doing? he