The 3 AM Blueprint Chapter 1

At 3:00 AM, I sent a text to my boss.

"Do you want a baby?"

Ten minutes later, my phone lit up.

"Meeting at 8:30 AM. Have the pitch deck ready."

I stared at the cold, unfeeling command from my capitalist overlord, then looked over at the little boy fast asleep in my bed.

It was hard to imagine that my boss and I could ever create something so cute.

* * *

I became a mother at twenty-eight, and the stork didn't bring the baby. Mrs. Higgins, the building superintendent, did.

When Mrs. Higgins knocked on my door holding the hand of a little boy, I was bewildered.

The kid looked about five or six. He had bright, dark eyes and deep dimples. He was wearing a t-shirt, overalls, and a little yellow duck backpack. He looked clean and well-cared-for.

Definitely a kid who belonged to a good family.

He was also a kid who was very easy to like.

That is, until he opened his mouth.

Upon seeing me, the boy’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. He wrenched his hand free from Mrs. Higgins, barreled into my living room, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Mommy!" he shouted.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Before I could speak, I saw Mrs. Higgins muttering something about a pot roast in the oven and fleeing the scene.

The boy rubbed his face against my stomach and looked up at me with sparkling eyes.

"Mommy, where’s Daddy?"

Daddy? Mommy?

I am a single woman. I haven't even dated in two years. Where would I get a five-year-old?

I crouched down, placed a finger on his forehead, and gently pushed him back. "I’m not your mommy, and your daddy isn't here."

"You are! You are!" The kid’s eyes turned red, and his cheeks puffed up. "Mommy is Willow Evans, and Daddy is Spencer Sterling. I wouldn't recognize the wrong people!"

My heart skipped a beat. My eyelid twitched.

I am Willow Evans. That part is true.

But Spencer Sterling? That’s my CEO.

To prove he wasn't crazy, the kid rattled off my phone number, Spencer’s private number, and even our social security numbers without missing a beat.

Then he puffed out his little chest, looking proud, waiting for praise.

Am I awesome or what? his face seemed to say.

I face-palmed. I had no choice but to bring him inside.

I handed him a pair of guest slippers. Surprisingly, he took off his shoes and lined them up perfectly by the door. Impeccable manners.

But he was clearly unhappy with my reaction. He sat on the sofa, pouting, arms crossed.

I found it funny, so I grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s from the freezer and handed it to him.

His mood flipped instantly. He dug in happily. "Since you’re sharing, I won't tell on you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Tell on me for what?"

He grinned, holding up a spoon full of Half Baked. "This. You always get a stomach ache when you eat ice cream, so Daddy banned you from having it."

I froze.

I do have a sensitive stomach. I do lack self-control. But how would this kid know that?

We chatted. I learned his nickname was "Bean." He said he was five. He claimed he lived at 28 Riverside Estates on Oak Avenue.

He said he got lost walking home from school, met Mrs. Higgins, and she brought him here.

I pulled out my phone and checked Google Maps.

Oak Avenue existed, but it was currently a construction site for a future luxury development. No houses yet.

A weird feeling settled in my stomach.

"Bean," I asked cautiously. "What year is it?"

Bean wobbled his head. "I know this one! Teacher said it's the Year of the Ox."

Ox?

I looked at the calendar on my desk. It was the Year of the Tiger.

Holy cow. Bean traveled back from the future. Eight years, to be exact.

I looked at the kid devouring ice cream. He did look familiar.

Wait.

Who did he say his father was again?

Spencer Sterling.