I glanced at Payton happily munching her breakfast and lowered my voice. I could tell him to call a temp agency. ‘What time do you need me?’

‘As soon as possible. We’ve got a full day of back-to-back appointments.’

Saying no wasn’t my forte—I hated letting anyone down—but I had little choice right now. Whatever I did, either Payton or Adrian was going to be angry with me.

‘I’m going on a school excursion with Payton’s class today.’ I wanted him to know I’d not only be sacrificing spending quality time with our daughter but also letting down the school if I helped him. Let him beg a little.

Payton looked up as I mentioned her name.

‘So, cancel it,’ Adrian said, oozing frustration. ‘She’ll understand.’

I wasn’t so sure about that, but it would likely be easier for the school to find another parent than it would for him to find another receptionist at such short notice. Our school was in an area where most of the mums didn’t work and they always had an overabundance of parents scrambling to volunteer.

‘Please, Ash. I need you.’

And there was the begging I’d secretly wanted.

I turned away so Payton couldn’t see my face as I grinned. Adrian may be pleading over the phone and it may be a work thing, but it still felt good to hear those words in his deep, attractive voice.

‘Okay.’ I let out a long sigh, so he didn’t register my glee. ‘I’ll drop Payton at school and be there as soon as I can.’

‘Thank you,’ he breathed.

I’d barely ended the call when Payton threw her fork on the table. ‘You promised me you’d come on the excursion. You’re such a liar. You always say we need to keep our promises, but you never keep yours.’

I raised my eyebrows. That was a touch unfair—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d broken any promises, unlike her father—but I understood her anger.

‘Payton, please listen,’ I said as she shoved back her chair and ran from the kitchen. Seconds later I heard her door slam and I slumped back against the kitchen counter.

So much for a lovely breakfast reuniting with my children.

I didn’t have time to go after her now—I needed to find something to wear for a day in the clinic—and she wouldn’t be ready to listen to reason yet anyway, so I quickly collected up the dishes instead.

I frowned as I scraped Saxon’s plate into the rubbish bin; he’d maybe eaten half a rasher of bacon and a few mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. He’d sneaked off when I was on the phone, but I’d assumed he’d finished as teenage boys ate like it was an Olympic event.