She's Out of Control by Kristin Billerbeck

presently.”
    â€œAre you going to have kids?” Yes, this is an illegal question, but Hans cares little for American proprieties.
    â€œWe’re not sure yet about children. We’re still working out the details of the wedding.” Like, whether we’re actually having one .
    â€œThese are things you have to think about as a woman with a career. Plot your course, as they say.”
    â€œRight.” I’m like a Pavlovian dog at the moment, salivating over a job that hasn’t even been created yet. Kay is right. No job is worth my self-respect. Do I have any of that left? “I’d like to have a bushel of kids,” I suddenly blurt.
    â€œReally?” Hans clasps his hands together on his desk. “I have four of them. Lot of work and money, those kids.”
    â€œYou have four? I thought you only had two.”
    â€œHere in America, I only have two. They’re from my marriage, but I was young once.” He winks. “I have two that were born when I lived in France as a bachelor. I never see those kids, but they cost me a bundle.” He whistles. “They’re getting ready for college.” He chuckles here, and I can’t even force a smile. Ewww, is all I can think. He has kids as old as Sophia the nanny.
    â€œWell, back to work,” I say brightly. “I’d be happy to talk to you about the general counsel job when you have more time.”
    â€œI’ll be in touch with the board.” Hans stands up, and when I exit, the admins are huddled together again, like a high-school foot-ball team.
    â€œAhem,” I say and they go back to pretending they’re working. I have a major headache .
    I clamber with the phone, struggling to punch in Brea’s numbers, but I keep missing them. On the third try, I get her. “Hi, Ash, what’s up?”
    â€œI so need a friend. I have no friends here, Brea. They all think I’m the office . . . you know . . . but they are the ones dressed up like off-duty strippers. I’m so out of my element. I feel like I should wear a chastity belt at this job.”
    â€œYou’ve just made a big change, Ashley. You’re like the Israelites who remember the good things of Egypt instead of the slavery. Miles,” Brea coos. “Say hello to Auntie Ashley. Auntie is having a bad day. Give her kisses.” I hear the baby gurgling in the phone, and I just start to laugh. Brea can always make me laugh. Pretty soon, the gurgling turns into a healthy smacking sound. “No, no. Don’t eat the phone, Miles. Icky. Dirty. Hello,” she says to me.
    â€œHe’s a doll. Can I have him yet? He’s the only man I know worth having.”
    â€œNo, he still remembers that you wanted a girl. He’ll never for-give you for that.”
    â€œStory of my life.”
    â€œI have something to cheer you up, but you have to promise not to root me out,” Brea says.
    â€œWould I ever do that?”
    â€œSeth invited us over on Friday night to share in a ‘surprise’ for you.”
    â€œNo way!”
    â€œYep. He said he’s been planning this for weeks now, and wants it to be perfect.”
    â€œThis is after Arin came home?”
    â€œJust this morning.”
    I scream into the phone. “Finally. Finally, something in my life is going right.”
    â€œI knew you’d have a cow if you came home with sloshy, day-old makeup, so I made up my mind to tell you, but you can’t tell John. He’ll call me a gossip.”
    â€œYou are a gossip!”
    â€œShh. Only with you. Otherwise, I’m the perfect, Proverbs 31 woman. Miles thinks so, and that’s all that matters to this mama. But I’d have a connip if John was coming to ask me to marry him and inviting people over, and I looked like I’d been at work all day. Shoot me now.”
    â€œUm, yeah.” I lower my voice into the phone. “Any idea what the ring looks