Falling for my boss ✔️

Chapter 30 - My little boy

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Hector Harrington's POV (Michael's father)

Olive branch, Mississippi

Hector's study

"Michael, why won't you pick up?", I thought, sighing deeply as I watched the declined screen light up on my phone. "Why are you declining my calls? Are you still angry with me?", my heart twisted at that thought and got heavy. I ran both hands through my hair and walked in circles, contemplating if I should call again now or in ten minutes again. It was worrying me - why couldn't he pick up? Was he in trouble?

As always, guilt washed over me as I stared at his profile picture. He was an identical copy of me, down to the deep brows, strong nose and prominent jawline, as well as the strong neck and shoulders. He had inherited the blonde hair and blue eyes of the Beaumont's, but his built and stern look were certainly from my side, the Harrington's.

It had been one of the reasons he had inherited my middle name for his first name.

I caught myself asking what he might be doing at this time of day. It was almost eight o'clock, the time we had put them down, the kids, to sleep back in the day. 17 years ago. That was the last time I had put the children to sleep; all three of them. Michael. Leon. Adrien. The last time I had brushed through their hair and wished them goodnight – well, except Michael. He had been 13 already and he had thought that was embarrassing, so I wasn't allowed to do that with him.

Thirteen years ago ... when did Michael go to sleep now? Is he still as careful with Leon just like back then? Was he still the boy who went to sleep by a certain time or did he work into the night, like I had back in the day as a business man?

Then it came to me – my eldest was 30. My youngest had just started college. "Business too", I mumbled, shaking my head. "To get your attention. For some reason, they still love you Michael." It must be because of the stories. I told my boys so much about the small Michael and Leon had told them even more about the adult one.

What had surprised me the most was lying on my desk – the newspaper from around a week ago.

My little boy was in love. But this time for real. I could see it in his eyes and well ... as his father, I just knew.

The picture ... it was undoubtedly taken in New York. Michael was in his business suit and he held the hand of a generously-shaped woman with a face that was pleasant to look at, one you might be even caught staring at. A refined square face with big eyes – the more I looked at her, the more I wondered what her nationality might be. She was visible no American, neither French, but she was nonetheless a beauty.

Did she look after him? Did she get him when he pulled an all nighter? Did she fill him with the love he deserved? Did he make her happy?

Well, both of them were beaming in this picture and didn't tear their eyes away from each other.

My eyes glanced back to Michael and I caught myself nodding – a fine woman for my boy. They were enjoyable to look at, almost like a Hollywood couple; a strong man with a female woman by his side. Harsh and soft. Balancing each other out.

Pride filled me as I scanned my eldest intently. What a fine young man! I couldn't believe he was 30 already, he looked nowhere near his age.

"You saw already, did you?"

My heart jumped at the voice and grew a tad-bit lighter.

"Quite late, I may remark", I answered my second-wife, my fingers tracing Michael's build as I spoke. "Supposedly they are four months together already."