Party at the Home of Jason’s Billionaire Boss

Emily folded the last of the tiny onesies and set it neatly on top of the changing table, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. The nursery was warm with the afternoon sun, and Chloe was asleep in her crib, a soft wheeze in her breath like a kitten dreaming. Emily stood there, unmoving, watching her daughter’s chest rise and fall.

“You’re only going to be gone one night,” she whispered to herself, but her stomach still twisted.

Downstairs, she could hear Jason moving around—keys jangling, a suitcase wheeling across hardwood. He was humming. Relaxed. Excited, even. She envied that ease.

She glanced down at herself—leggings, an oversized hoodie, one of Jason’s old college shirts underneath. Nothing that hugged or revealed. Just comfort. They had four hours in the car ahead, and anything fancier would’ve been a mistake.

The front door opened and closed, and then came a cheery voice: “Hello, house of Davenport!”

“Tasha,” Emily exhaled, brushing hair out of her face and trying to pull herself back into her body. She padded down the stairs barefoot and greeted the younger woman with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Tasha was twenty-three, a former babysitter turned early-childhood education student, and somehow managed to project calm confidence without seeming smug. She dropped her backpack by the door and kicked off her sandals.

“Traffic wasn’t bad,” she said brightly, taking in the familiar home with ease. “You two all set?”

“Almost,” Emily murmured, giving her a quick hug, the kind she hadn’t had time to give many adults in a while. “We’ve got her schedule on the fridge, bottles in the cooler bag, and diapers in the closet by the stairs.”

“Got it covered,” Tasha said, already washing her hands, tying her hair into a quick braid. “You two just relax. Chloe and I are gonna be besties tonight.”

Jason came in from the kitchen, casual in joggers and a hoodie, the collar of his shirt slightly damp from a splash of coffee. “Hey, Tasha. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Mr. D,” she winked.

Emily rolled her eyes affectionately and looked at the baby monitor one last time before zipping up her overnight bag.

“You sure you don’t mind staying the night?” she asked.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t let me,” Tasha grinned. “Seriously, Em. Go. She’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jason slung the bags over his shoulder and held the door open. Emily hesitated—just for a second—then kissed her daughter’s warm little forehead and whispered, “Be good for Tasha, baby girl.”

Chloe stirred but didn’t wake.

-0-

In the car, Emily leaned her head against the window as the highway unspooled ahead. The suburbs gave way to long stretches of road, dry fields, glinting fences. Jason reached over and rested a hand on her thigh.

“She’s fine,” he said, soft but firm.

“I know. I just… feel like I forgot something.”

“You didn’t.”

She looked at him. At the slight curve of his lips, the strength in his forearm as he steered. It had been so long since she’d just looked at him without a baby between them. He caught her watching, and his thumb brushed along her leg.

“You’re allowed to enjoy this,” he said. “It’s just one night.”

“Right.” She smiled faintly and turned her face back to the window.

But it lingered. That pull. That quiet guilt. That flutter of nervous anticipation.