After All by Kristen Proby

Prologue

~Nora~

“I’m not Mrs. Shaw.”

The receptionist frowns up at me. She’s new.

“I’m on the approved list to pick Gabby up from school, if her father is unavailable,” I elaborate and wait while the woman before me taps on her keyboard, then nods her head.

“Here you are. Okay then, Gabby is in Mrs. Flynn’s office. You’re free to go on in.”

“Thanks.” My heels click on the floor as I march into the principal’s office. Gabby’s dark head is bowed, and Mrs. Flynn’s hands are folded on her desk, waiting patiently for me.

“Hello, Nora,” she says politely. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome. Carter’s been in court all afternoon. I’m sorry you couldn’t reach him.”

“Dad’s always in court,” Gabby mutters.

“What’s this all about?”

Mrs. Flynn looks over to Gabby. “Would you like to explain it to her?”

“Not really.”

I sigh. Since Gabby’s reached the preteen years, she’s been more and more difficult.

“What’s up, Gabby?”

My boss’s daughter shrugs one shoulder. “I was sticking up for my friend. That’s all.”

I blink at Mrs. Flynn and raise an eyebrow. “I suspect that’s not all.”

“Another student, Claire, claims Gabby assaulted her and pulled her earring out of her ear.”

“Gabby!”

“She’s mean,” Gabby insists. “Like, really mean. And I was sick and tired of listening to her bully Lily.”

“Our school has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to these things,” Mrs. Flynn says patiently. “I’ll be speaking with Claire, the girl whose ear is now bandaged up, but Gabby, you’re suspended until Monday.”

“What?” Gabby demands. “But it’s only Thursday.”

“That’s the policy,” Mrs. Flynn says. “I’ll make an appointment to speak with your father about this further.”

“Let’s go,” I say as Gabby stands and reaches for her bookbag. To the principal I say, “Thanks for everything.”

The principal nods as Gabby and I leave her office and I immediately reach for my phone and dial Carter’s number. It goes to voice mail, and I leave the second message since I received the call from the school.

“Me again. I have Gabby. Will tell you more when I see you, but she’s not hurt.”

I hang up and Gabby and I climb into the waiting taxi. She’s scowling as she puts her seat belt on.

“This freaking sucks.”

“Totally,” I agree as we pull away from the school. “Want to tell me about it?”

“No. I’ll have to tell Dad everything anyway. I’d rather only tell the story once.”

“Okay.” This surprises her. She whips her head around to stare at me with wide eyes. “I think you’ve had a rough day.”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks.

“You know you have to give me your phone.”

She silently pulls the device from her pocket and passes it to me.

“But I think you might need an ice cream.”

“I can have ice cream for being suspended?”

“No. You can have ice cream because you’ve had a rough day. It’s not my job to punish you, aside from retrieving your phone. The rest is up to your dad and the school. Also, I could use some ice cream myself.”

And maybe some vodka, but that’s not possible right now.

On our way to the office, I have the cab drop us at our favorite ice cream shop and we leave with two scoops each.

“So you were sticking up for your friend?” I ask as we walk into the office building where I work for Gabby’s dad. The ice cream shop is just down the block.

“Yeah.”

“Did you have to make the other girl bleed?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she admits. “It just sort of . . . happened.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”

She nods as we walk to the elevator.

“I’m in so much trouble,” Gabby mutters, staring at her strawberry ice cream.

“Maybe not. I’ll talk to your dad before I send him into the office.”

“You’re the best,” she says with a grin. “What would I do without you?”

“We’ll never have to know,” I assure her as we reach our floor. Gabby beelines it into her dad’s office, and I call him one last time to leave a message that we’re back at his office.

This is a pretty typical day in the life for me as Carter Shaw’s assistant. I don’t just work as his legal assistant, although that is technically my job title. No, for five years I’ve helped with everything, from picking Gabby up from school to hiring and firing housekeepers and nannies. I work fourteen-hour days. I am married to the job.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“The preteen drama queen is in your office,” I inform Carter when he comes walking into the office with his