That day when I closed the door behind me and sat down behind my desk, I didn’t immediately start my computer and open the file of papers in front of me. Instead, I pulled out my phone and went through the few pictures I’d taken of Remy earlier before I had to leave Grant’s place.
Last Friday, I was angry, but that Thursday, I was just sad. My heart ached to spend more time with my son, and I felt helpless not knowing what I could possibly do to change the situation. I was glad when Nick came in. He had quickly become my best friend in Charlotte, and he always helped me to feel better and more centered.
“You doing okay tonight?” he asked as he slid onto his usual barstool.
I shook my head and took a glass down to fill with his favorite beer. “I got to see Remy this morning.”
“Shouldn’t that be a good thing? I know you’ve been missing him and wanting to see him more,” Nick said.
“It was a good thing,” I said with a sigh. “But it just makes me sad when I have to leave. Being there with him is wonderful. He is amazing. But then I have to walk away from him. I either have to leave him there at the house, or I have to let Grant take him away. I never get enough time with him, and it kills me to think there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“But isn’t there something you can do about it? Can’t you bring him to court and change the arrangements?” Nick asked. “It doesn’t seem fair that he and his parents should be able to call all the shots.”
“It isn’t fair. It’s beyond not fair. But it’s also the reality of the situation,” I said. “They have a team of lawyers on call. His parents have money. The kind of money that makes what I bring in from the bar look like pocket change. If I tried to fight them, they would come at me with a team that would obliterate me. Then not only would I not have Remy in my life, but I would also be crippled with debt for the foreseeable future. It would be exactly what Grant wants.”
Nick caught the beer as it slid across the bar for him. He took a sip, then stared directly into my eyes. “Let me give you the money to fight back.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Why not?” Nick asked. “I’m talking about a loan here. You need money to fight for Remy. I have plenty of money and nothing really to do with it. Let me loan you what you need. You can take as long as you need to pay me back.”
I shook my head again. “Thank you. Really. Thank you for the thought. But there’s no way I can do that.”
“And I ask again. Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on our friendship,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There wouldn’t be any pressure on our friendship. I’m offering it. Let me help you.”
“Nick, I have no idea what kind of money it would take, or when I’d be able to pay you back.”
“And Lindsey, I’m telling you, I have the money and I don’t need it. You would pay me back when and how you were able to. It’s really that simple,” he said.
“No. I can’t. Again, thank you for offering. It means the world to me that you would. But I just can’t accept that,” I said.
He kept offering and I kept saying no throughout the evening. I knew this wasn’t the end of it. Nick was going to keep pestering right on, and I knew he hoped one day I would say yes.
5
Vince
“But don’t you think it would be romantic?” Darren asked.
“Of course I do. But it just seems like it doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the plans,” Mom said.
“Guys, we really need to focus right now,” I piped up.
“Kelly has already gotten a fairly clear vision of what she wants for the ceremony. I really don’t know if it’s possible to fit it all together,” Mom said.
“I think she would love it,” Darren disagreed. “It’s beautiful and traditional.”
“I don’t know if I would go so far as to say it’s traditional, honey. At least not around here.”
“Seriously. It’s Friday. The week is over, and we’re behind,” I said. “I really do need us to get these things taken care of so we can be ready for the next race.”
“It’s definitely traditional,” Darren said. “Look up any fairy-tale wedding, and what’s the first thing that you’re going to see?”
“Cartoons?” I asked.
They deftly ignored me, not even glancing my way. Which was challenging considering I was sitting directly in between them.
“A horse-drawn carriage,” Darren said. “Just pull up a search engine images page and you will see a billion brides in their elaborate wedding gowns being whisked off to their ceremony in a horse-drawn carriage. It’s perfect.”
“I know it sounds lovely. But Kelly wants the ceremony in those gardens. I don’t think there’s enough space around there to fit a horse and carriage. It would probably be dangerous,” Mom said.
“I would really love it if you were a fraction as concerned about the budget for the special block party as you are about a completely abstract idea,” I said.
“Maybe if I suggest the horse and carriage to her, she’ll change her mind,” Darren said. “We haven’t made any final decisions about the venue. She just said she liked those gardens and had seen a really pretty wedding there. That doesn’t mean she absolutely has her heart set on it. Maybe she would prioritize arriving in style over those particular gardens.”
“That’s something you’re going to have to talk to her about,” Mom said. “It’s really important to pick the right venue. Where you pick as a location for a wedding sets the tone for the entire event. You’re going to have to talk to her about exactly what her vision for the ceremony is.”
“We’re going to really have to talk about scheduling time during the workday when all mention of weddings and baby showers are off-limits,” I added in.
“Have you even discussed her ideal gown? I know she said she wanted to wait to go to any of the boutiques until her mother and sister could come down from Canada. But she might have an idea of what she would like. That can make a tremendous impact on where would be appropriate,” Mama said.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to know what her dress looks like,” Darren pointed out.
“You know what I know what it looks like? A bunch of really angry fans if we don’t have anything to offer them during the massive block party we’ve hyped up for the last two weeks,” I said.
“That wasn’t a sentence, sweetheart,” my mother said, patting my arm without taking her eyes off Darren.
Well, at least she acknowledged my existence. I was going to take that as a victory. I gave up on trying to talk to either one of them and headed back to my office. It wasn’t much better there, and by the end of the day, I felt like pulling my hair out. I definitely needed a break. Without talking to anybody else, I left the compound. I figured by then that my mother had probably recruited at least a couple of the other family members to try her best to talk sense into her youngest son. Either that or he had convinced her the horse and carriage was the best idea ever, and they were going to present a united front to Kelly in an effort to have her change her wedding plans.
Either way, I didn’t want to be around to deal with it. Unless and until they had a specific job they needed me to do, I was staying out of all the wedding plans and preparations.
With my family and all their craziness in my rearview mirror, I headed directly to the bar. I was already parked and was about to get out of the truck when I realized what I was doing. Though I was the first of the Freeman brothers to frequent the bar, I didn’t go nearly as much as I did when I was younger. With the exception of specific celebrations or gatherings, I didn’t go as often as the others. Only Darren went less often than I did. But here I had found myself showing up at the bar several times over the last week.
It probably said a lot about me just how often I had been there lately. Not even taking my seat belt off, I cranked the car engine again and pulled out of the parking space. I didn’t want Lindsey to get the wrong idea. Well,
technically, the right idea.
I ended up at a small seafood shack by the water. It was one of my favorite places in the area. They got into some serious financial trouble a few years back, and I bailed them out. Since then, I had been visiting at least once a week to eat dinner and catch up with the people working there. Some weeks it was more than once. Considering my new tendency to head directly to the bar as soon as I left work, I figured now might be a good time for me to pick up the frequency.
I parked my truck and headed inside. Everybody smiled and waved at me when they saw me. I knew everybody who worked there and always had a good time talking to whoever happened to be working a shift when I showed up. The cook behind the counter caught my eye and immediately turned to start preparing my favorite dinner. My order very rarely deviated from a few dishes. They were so delicious I couldn’t resist ordering them when I came in. Even if I decided to expand my horizons and try something else, such as a special the cook might have come up with, eventually I would end up toting a bag of takeout containers full of my favorites when I left.
Sitting down at one of the empty tables, I thanked the waitress for the iced tea she brought me and squeezed a wedge of lemon down into it. It only took a few minutes for the cook to bring me my overflowing plates, and I smiled. If I wasn’t going to allow myself another evening spent sitting at the bar with Lindsey, at least this was a pretty good consolation. I ate my dinner as I caught up with the staff and some of the customers who came in. When I was finished, I went into the back office and spent another hour going over the books with the manager. I trusted her completely, but I liked to be involved in my investments. Especially when my plan was to eventually withdraw and turn over complete control back to the family who had owned the restaurant for generations.
The process was already going well. When I first bailed them out, I was essentially in complete control over the restaurant. I acted as sole owner and made massive alterations to several elements of how the place ran. Over time, I gradually eased up on my control and handed more of it over to the family. Little by little, I was backing out, relinquishing more control as they paid back my investment. There wasn’t a question in my mind that they would be successful even when they had total control again. This restaurant would pass down to the next generation and the next.
When it was time to leave, the cook came up to me with a bag of food.
“The top box is for Frankie,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” I said.
I felt much lighter and less aggravated when I made it home. Frankie greeted me like always but gave me only a cursory nudge before going to the bag. He was well aware of what was in there waiting for him. There was no option for putting it in the refrigerator for the next day. If I tried to pull that stunt, the enormous cat would ensure I got no sleep.
Pulling little bits of the unseasoned fish out of the package, I tossed them on the floor. Watching the big fluffball go crazy was more than worth having to mop that night.
I had purposely chosen to ignore my phone the entire time I was at the seafood shack, so I took it out to check it as I tucked the rest of the food away in the refrigerator. There was a text message from Darren.
Mom won’t let me have a horse and carriage.
She had talked him down. I laughed. I couldn’t do anything else. They were crazy, but they were mine.
6
Lindsey
When my alarm went off Saturday morning, everything in my mind and body protested. It was like I couldn’t pry my eyes open or convince myself to move. All I could manage was wriggling my fingers under my pillow to get the offending device and turn off the alarm. Then I sagged against the mattress and willed time to stop for a bit so I could get some extra sleep.
But today was my day with Remy.
And if I wanted to make sure I got every second I possibly could out of my visit with him, I had to get moving. Grant was not the type to be flexible. Especially not with me. He wanted to meet at a coffee shop at eight, which meant I damn well better be there no later than three minutes ’til or he would scoop Remy up and leave. Even if he didn’t leave, he’d be counting down the minutes and would happily dock my time.
I managed to take a shower, get dressed, and throw on my makeup in record time. When I hopped into my car, I noticed I’d made it out of my apartment just in time. I didn’t feel like wasting any time actually patronizing the shop Grant chose, so I swung by my favorite local coffee shop to grab a drink. Taking a few fortifying steps, I headed to the wealthy part of the city.
When I arrived at the coffee shop, I immediately saw them. Grant had staked out the most visible table on the outdoor patio. That wasn’t for my benefit. He liked to show off. In everything he did, he wanted recognition and attention. That was particularly true when he had Remy out of the house. Grant was very familiar with the idea of gaining attention and sympathy from women by trotting out his adorable three-year-old son.
Not only did he have the appeal of the single father going for him, but he also got to be the epic hero by fearlessly and selflessly taking care of him through his disability. I couldn’t count the number of times I had gagged on Grant’s simpering speech he gave to women who noticed Remy. I could only hope he would stop using our son as a prop by the time Remy was old enough to really be aware of what was going on around him. At only three, he couldn’t understand what his father meant by the things he said or why he would be trying to get so much attention from these women. But that would eventually change.
Soon enough, Remy would understand. He would be able to interpret exactly what was being said and internalize it. I couldn’t stand the idea of him getting hurt because Grant was out looking for a playdate of his own.
Right then, he looked like he was on the prowl. He sat at one of the cast iron tables sipping his usual latte. Leaned back in the chair with one leg propped casually over the other, he watched every woman who walked past. He hadn’t noticed I was there yet. Not that he would have any shame if he did. He didn’t care if I saw him with other women. I wouldn’t put it past him to actually enjoy me seeing it. But if he noticed me standing there watching him check out every woman anywhere close to his taste range, he’d lose some of his sacrificing, dedicated-father leverage.
As I approached the patio, I saw Remy sitting in a booster seat in the chair at the head of the table. He had a container of scented modeling dough in front of him and was rolling a lump of it around in his hand. That was one of the gifts I gave him for his third birthday, and it made my heart warm to see him playing with it. Grant’s parents had scoffed when he opened it, thinking it was a ridiculous gift. But I wanted Remy to experience his senses as much as possible, and my research said tactile experiences as a baby were important to healthy brain growth. I wanted my son to be smart, creative, and expressive, and that started young. Fortunately for me, Remy took to the gift instantly and apparently hadn’t lost his shine on it.
“Hello,” I said when I got to the table.
Grant gave a not-so-subtle look at his phone to check the time. I didn’t take mine out to compare notes, but from my vantage point, I could see I’d arrived with a couple minutes to spare. Satisfied, he turned to me. His eyes locked on the coffee cup in my hand. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. The look was enough.
“Remy,” I said. “Mommy’s here.”
His face lit up, and he turned a bright smile toward me.
“Hi, Mommy,” he said. “Want to play with me?”
He held the lump of dough out toward me. It still amazed me sometimes how adaptable he was. Just by hearing my voice, he could tell exactly where I was. But I guessed that wasn’t really adapting. It was all he ever knew.
I walked up and crouched down beside his chair. I purposely positioned my body close to him so he could feel and smell me. My finger sank down into the purple dough, and then I leaned forward and smelled it.
“Oh, grape. That’s a wonderful smell. Do you li
ke it?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Pink is better.”
“What does pink smell like?” I asked.
“Cotton candy.”
“That sounds so nice. I’d like to smell that sometime. Do you have it in your pack?” I asked, glancing down at the ground around his chair to find his little backpack. When I didn’t see it, I looked across the table at Grant. “Where is his backpack?”
“He doesn’t have it with him today,” Grant said.
“He doesn’t have it? Why not?” I asked.
“I thought it would be nice if we just stayed around here today.”
“Stay around here?” I asked. “You mean at the coffee shop?”
“The whole point of these visits is so you can spend time with your son, right? Well, then spend time with him. You don’t have to go somewhere else for it to count,” he said.
“Grant, that is not what we agreed,” I said through gritted teeth
Grant shrugged, taking another sip of his latte. “Do something about it.”
He was taunting me. He knew just as well as I did there was nothing I could do. The arrangements we made over the phone the other day weren’t legally binding. They were just an agreement between the two of us. One I stupidly believed he would actually uphold.
I drew in a breath and forced myself to stay calm. I didn’t want Remy to hear a fight, and I didn’t want to cause a scene in public. “You agreed to the arrangements. Saturdays I get to have Remy to myself and don’t have to go to your house. I already go to your place on Thursdays.”
He shrugged, his foot bouncing like he was dancing to the music in the background. “I don’t have any paperwork that shows that’s the arrangement. Do you?” He sat up, leaning forward on the table and folding his hands together in a posture that was both dismissive and aggressive. “It seems to me the paperwork I have states I have full custody of Remy. Your only legal right to visitation is on my terms. You are the one who agreed to that.”
The Freeman Brothers: A Secret Baby Romance Collection Page 46