by Morris, Liv
Once the bottle was cleaned out with the hottest water I could stand to touch, I filled it with the right amount of water and scoops, then replaced the top part and shook it. Milk started spewing out of a hole in the rubbery part. I covered it with my finger and mixed it again.
I debated taking the kid out of her seat but wasn’t sure if that was the best idea. What if she wiggled in my arms and I dropped her? Taking no chances, she would stay in the seat for as long as possible.
I moved into the dining room with the baby seat in one hand, a bottle in the other. I set the carrier down on the expansive wooden table and brought the bottle to her lips. She opened her mouth wide, hands waving in excitement. She latched onto it and sucked away. Her lips and cheeks worked fast together. Slurps and swallows followed too. She knotted her fists tight like she was ready to throw a punch if I took the bottle away.
The kid must’ve been starving. I exhaled a long sigh, easing away some of the tension from the last couple hours.
I held the bottle as she drank it with gusto. When she finished the last drop, I pulled it away from her mouth and was greeted with that same toothless grin as before. I smiled back. It was impossible not too.
“Think you’re so cute, don’t you?” She grinned even bigger. “You’re going to give your father…”
I didn’t finish my sentence as everything about tonight hit me in the gut. Here was a guiltless child, being left with a man guilty of so many sins. For the kid’s sake, I hoped I wasn’t her dad.
13
Maggie
After the most perfect meet-cute with Herb ended up being a dud, I jumped back into the dating pool, suspending my stupid boycott. I’d fired up my Bumble and Tinder apps, updating my profiles to reflect a wiser me.
I’d be lying if I said I was fine with Herb not asking for my phone number. I’d moped around my apartment for two days eating Ben & Jerry’s while watching John Hughes’ movies. I couldn’t shake that spark of attraction I’d felt with him. It had given me hope that a decent guy might be out there for me, but I needed to take the first step for him to find me.
Learning from my mistakes, I created a list of dos and don’ts.
Don’ts:
Bathroom selfies.
Dick pics.
Ask what I’m wearing, unless it’s related to the place where we’re meeting.
Say they can’t wait to tell their mother about me.
Ask if I’d like to meet at their apartment.
Dos:
Ask my favorite color.
Share funny jokes, not of a sexual nature.
Send me flowers. (A girl could dream.)
Love to read.
Their name is Herb. (I still believed in Serendipity.)
Sure, Herb was rude and dismissive, but he had been hiding his true self under a grumpy exterior. It was more than just wild speculation on my part. It was an educated guess.
As a psychology major, I’d learned the why behind human actions and interactions. Nonverbal communication had been one of my favorite classes. It had taught me to read body language to determine what they were saying without using any words.
Through hand gestures, facial expressions, and eye contact—or lack thereof—people revealed their inner selves and feelings. Also, the proximity in which they stood or sat next to each other was crucial to relationships. It was called the “personal space bubble.”
The day I fell into Herb’s arms, I’d burst through his bubble, and he hadn’t seemed to mind at all. Instead of righting me, he’d seemed paralyzed, peering down at me for more than a second or two, probably like ten. Finally, someone in the crowded shop had to tell him to help me stand up.
On top of that, he’d rubbed his jaw and combed through his hair while he’d decided how to respond to me—all nervous habits showing a person conflicted in what to say or do. Yet, he held himself as a man in total control of his world. I believed the ordered exterior was a facade to keep his feelings suppressed. How’s that for an Alabama psych graduate? I’d learned something after all. Take that IG human resources who hated my southernisms.
I also did something rather sneaky when I walked away from Herb. I darted into an enclave at the building next to the coffee shop. It made me look like I had vanished into thin air. I’d peeked out from my hiding place, seeing Herb still standing where I’d left him. Not a muscle in his tall, gorgeous body had moved. Maybe he hadn’t wanted me with him after that day, but his body language had told me otherwise. He wasn’t the type of man who responded to pushing, though, so I’d left soon after he had. It was a long, sad ride home on the subway.
Two weeks later, I found myself getting ready for my first Bumble date under my new rules. It had taken me that long to find a suitable match. Oh, I forgot one thing: he had to have a photo of him in a suit on his profile. I’d fallen in love with that look. I called it the Herb side-effect.
The first candidate was Thomas. He worked for a Fin-tech startup, but only mentioned it once as we texted back and forth. It was a good sign he wasn’t married to his job or would talk all night about how many years he had to go to make partner and exciting stuff like that. Yawn.
He’d asked me to meet him at a bar in midtown called Dream. I told him nine o’clock would work for me, and he’d agreed. I decided all first dates would be drinks only. For one, it was cheaper—I hated a guy spending all that cash on me if he and I were not a good fit. Plus, after one drink, I could tell him I had to be up early for work, or church, if I wanted to pour cold water on his hopes for hooking up later.
I applied a coat of my trusty Golly That’s Red lipstick, smoothed my hair, and grabbed my purse. I turned off my bedroom light, ready to head out and grab a bite to eat before I met Thomas. Major rule: always eat a carb-loaded meal before meeting a stranger for drinks. When I’d failed to remember this fact, I ended up Netflix and chilling with major regrets.
“Maggie,” Tessa called me from her room. “I need to ask you a favor.”
She probably wanted to borrow my black club dress. It fit her better than me. I should just give it to her. I wouldn’t wear it again knowing it was made for her anyway.
“Sure.” I peeked around the corner of her bedroom door. “What’s up?”
“You’re going to need to sit down for this one.” Okay, so it wasn’t about the dress. I landed on her bed, making her bounce.
“Are you kicking me out for being a spaz?” When this joke didn’t elicit a smile, mine fell away too. “Must be serious.”
“It’s like life serious.”
“But not death, so that’s good.” Still only a stoned-faced response. That not being my funniest joke didn’t help either.
“I’ve been very proud of you trying to make better choices with guys.” She took my hands in hers. I was clueless about where this conversation was going.
“Yeah, blame it on a guy whose name was popular five generations ago.” This time, the side of her lips tipped up. “Good old Herb. The man who was almost meant to be.”
“Back to what I needed to tell you.” She gently squeezed my hands. Focus, Maggie, was what she was implying. “Do you remember me talking about Lucas Shaw, Barclay’s friend?”
“Sure.” It was a conversation I’d never forget. “The epitome of a lost soul is how you put it, I believe. Sugar daddy to avoid relationships. Etcetera.”
“That’s him. He’s Barclay’s friend connected with Iron Gate too. I just didn’t tell you at the time. He didn’t want you meeting him.”
“I do have a problem with bad boys, especially those who need fixing.”
“Exactly. Remember that when I ask you this question.” I nodded.
“I’ve aged a year waiting for you to tell me.” I laughed.
“Lucas is in trouble.” She took a breath. “It’s crazy, but an ex-lover, I guess you’d call her, left him with a baby. Like, she walked away and didn’t come back. She did leave a letter saying it was his.”
“Whoa. Who would do a thing like tha
t to a child? Or a guy—even if he’s a manwhore?”
“I don’t know much about the situation, but he needs someone to help him take care of the baby. It all happened tonight. He called Barclay and asked if he knew anyone.” Her voice dropped off as I put two and two together.
“He thought of me.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“You were the first person who came to his mind. But he also isn’t sure it’s a good idea, given Lucas’s vices. He’s a modern-day scoundrel.”
“Nothing like a crying child to give him a dose of reality. Does he have anyone else?” Truth be told, I didn’t trust myself with him either. Tess mentioned he was a drop-dead blond version of Barclay. Kind of like Herb. Which made me think about something she’d just said.
“You said he’s connected with Iron Gate—where I interviewed?”
“He’s in line to be the CEO.” Interesting. It appeared I was on the right trail.
“Give me more details about him. Like eye color. Stuff like that.”
“He has the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” She kept talking, but I didn’t hear another word.
“Show me a picture of him.”
She picked up her phone and entered his name for a search. After a couple clicks, she showed me a photo of Lucas Shaw—aka my Herb.
Well, fuck me six ways to Sunday…and I kind of meant that literally.
14
Maggie
I was in a dilemma. A personal friendship crisis with my lifelong bestie. Should I tell Tessa the guy I’ve been crushing on hard for two weeks is staring back at me on her phone, or should I pretend I’ve never met the man of my meet-cute dreams?
She had listened to me compare every guy on the dating apps to Herb…I mean Lucas. God, this was so confusing. Though I was happy his name was something other than Herb, but that was beside the point. What was the right thing to do?
Tessa already seemed leery of me meeting Lucas. After all, she had portrayed him as the fallen king of the bad boys. Heartless and self-centered. A man who lived his life seeking his own pleasures without regard for others.
I didn’t see those characteristics in Lucas the day I met him. Sure, he had been grumpy and borderline rude at times, but not dismissive of me as a person. Just the opposite, in fact. He had been a gentleman.
Combining the version of Lucas I saw versus the one he showed to others like Barclay and his lovers, confirmed what I had deduced about him, that he was an actor in his own life, playing a part to hide and protect what was troubling him underneath—his true self.
But what if he was truly bad to the core? The scar tissue tattooed on my heart was proof I’d been wrong about others like him.
“I’m working for the Wilson’s Monday through Friday next week. How long does he need my help?” I decided to trust my gut. Lucas was a better man than what he showed the world.
However, I didn’t want to seem eager and arouse suspicions about my intent, especially after viewing his handsome face in the photo. If Tessa saw me with cartoon heart eyes for Lucas, she would squash the idea of me helping with the baby. She was a protective friend.
“Just until a DNA test is completed. How long does something like that take?” She clicked away on her phone as I watched, wondering the same thing. “Google says it can be done the same day. Cost a lot, but Lucas’s family is worth billions according to Barclay. He’s also willing to pay you a thousand dollars a day.”
“You’re kidding me. That will pay this year’s rent. Well…almost.” Lucas had no idea what a nanny in Manhattan made per hour. Either that, or he was beyond desperate. Probably both.
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll let the Wilson’s know in the morning I won’t be available until…say, Wednesday? The one thing I promise to do is love the baby. She needs every bit I have after being dumped like an animal at a dog shelter.” I crossed my heart and held up my hand, honoring my words.
Tessa typed away on her phone. I assumed she was texting Barclay to tell him my decision. A reply came back quickly, and she raised her eyes to mine.
“Pack a bag for a couple days.”
“I’ll sleep there?” I’d be home alone with him in the dark hours of the night. A whisper of danger mixed with a thrill of excitement blew through me.
“It would be a crime to leave a baby alone with him for over five minutes.” She made a good point.
I stuffed some jeans and random T-shirts into a duffel bag my mother had given me. After gathering up the essential toiletries, I was packed in under ten minutes. I placed the bag by the front door.
“Tessa, I’m ready to go. I just need the address so I can order an Uber.”
She walked out of her room and looked at me in surprise. “You can’t be serious. You’re not wearing that.” She spun a finger in my direction. “It’s like asking the fox to watch the henhouse. He’ll want to eat you alive.”
I looked down at my tight dress and heels, and internally face-palmed. After realizing my Herb was Barclay’s friend Lucas, I forgot about my date tonight with Thomas. The dress I’d chosen was definitely not nanny appropriate.
“I have a Bumble meet up tonight. What time is it?”
“Eight fifteen.”
“Jeez, I suck canceling so late.”
I dug through my bag and found my phone buried under my clothes. What should I say to Thomas? He seemed like a great guy, especially after all the horn dogs I’d met so far. I didn’t want to blow it with him before it even started. I had to be realistic about Lucas. Us? Being together? I wasn’t that much of a dreamer.
Me: Hey. I’m so sorry, but I had an emergency come up and have to help a friend.
Barclay was my friend. Herb—scratch that—Lucas was someone who needed a friend. Close enough. I kept the text as it was and hit send.
The bubbling of an impending message appeared on my screen. I paced back and forth for what felt like forever. Finally, his response popped up.
Thomas: I understand. But don’t think I’m going to let you get off so easy. Wednesday work?
Why was his text so sexy? Was it the “you’ve been a bad girl and I’d like to spank you” vibe? Probably.
Me: Thanks for being so cool. Wed works! Same place?
Lucas should have everything under control with the baby by then, so it seemed safe to agree. If not, I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. I couldn’t cancel on Thomas again.
Thomas: But drinks and dinner.
Me: So bossy.
Thomas: Only when it counts.
I didn’t know how to reply to the suggestive undertone of his text. I wanted to heart the shit out of it, because I loved it when a man took control…in a respectful manner, of course. Like pulling my hair so his lips had better access to my neck, or telling me he was going to eff my brains out. So I just thumb-upped it. It was the lamest emoji, but it would have to do.
Changing out of my date attire, I put on a pair of jean cut-offs—tastefully frayed at the edges versus the scraggly kind I wore growing up—then double-checked to make sure they weren’t Daisy Duke short. I didn’t want to be too suggestive…well, not right off the bat, anyway.
Next, I chose my favorite T-shirt. White with Eternal Optimist written in red. I slipped on a pair of black sequin Crocs flip-flops—a gift from my mother after she saw them on The Today Show. They were beyond comfortable, and the last pair of Crocs I’d own unless I changed careers to the medical field. I braided my hair into a simple French braid and secured it with a hair tie. A few tendrils fell around my face, giving me a messy, not-quite-bedhead look.
“Ready.” I bounded out of my room, shutting the door behind me just in case Barclay stopped by. He might wonder if a clothing bomb had detonated in there. “Where does Lucas live?”
“Six twenty Central Park South. Billionaire’s Row.” Tessa rolled her eyes. Mine widened. Wow. Our apartment building was only blocks away. I walked by Billionaire’s Row almost every day on my way to Central Park
or the Apple store on Fifth. “Barclay said it’s high in the sky, but sterile. I can’t imagine where he’ll put the baby.”
“Doesn’t he have a spare bedroom?” I figured all the apartments in his building had at least three bedrooms, if not more.
“Not according to Barclay.” Weird. Where in the hell was I going to sleep?
“Should I bring my blowup mattress?” Tessa laughed at my question, then a frown fell across her perfect face.
“Good and scary question.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” Butterflies started to stir in my stomach. I’d have to deal with this and other issues—after Lucas saw me, the girl named Peaches. It wasn’t like I’d lied to him. If he would have asked for my real name, I would’ve told him. But he never asked, and neither had I.
I put Lucas’s address in my Uber app and waited for a car to select my trip. It would be the shortest Uber I’d ever booked, but I was a bundle of nerves and wanted to get there quickly. My phone pinged with my ride confirmation.
“My car’s four minutes away. Wish me luck.” I threw my bag over my shoulder and was halfway out the door when Tessa came running after me.
“Maggie, wait.” She grabbed the front door to keep it from closing. As if I’d slam it on her. “Barclay’s waiting for you downstairs. He’s taking you there himself.”
“Really? I don’t think that’s necessary.” My hands began to sweat as I let go of the doorknob.
Oh my God. There was no way Lucas would be able to hide his reaction to seeing me on the other side of his apartment door. Barclay would realize we’ve met before. How can I pull this off if I’m the only one in on the secret that Peaches is me?
“Barclay is just watching out for you. Better cancel your ride.”
There was no use trying to talk my way out of Barclay taking me, so I did as Tessa said, not caring that I’d get charged a cancellation fee. It was .001 percent of what I’d be earning over the next three days. Though, I would have done all of this for free had the man I’d known as Herb asked me. It felt wrong taking his money, especially under the circumstances of the baby being abandoned.