DADDY ISSUES: A SINGLE DAD ROMANCE

by Morris, Liv

  She drew the kid closer to her chest. Her Eternal Optimist T-shirt inched up her stomach, revealing creamy skin. Add her long bare legs, and it was too much for me to take, so I turned my head away from her, inspecting my bed. Then, it hit me in the face. Where in the fuck would she sleep? Or the kid?

  Everything I had for the baby was in the bag on the kitchen island. Coco dumped her child on me knowing full well I didn’t have a damn thing for an infant.

  “I guess you’ll need a place to lay the baby down for the night.”

  “I’ll lay her down on the bed, prop pillows around her so she doesn’t roll over.” With the baby secured in one arm, she grabbed her cell phone out of her back pocket with the free one. “I’m going to order a portable crib type thing on Prime Now. Also more diapers, wipes, a few extra outfits, and bottles. We should have everything by eight tomorrow morning.”

  “Keep track of the costs. I’ll reimburse you.” I was about to leave the room, when I remembered I hadn’t eaten yet. “Have you had dinner?”

  “I was going to before I met someone for a drink. Then you called Barclay and the rest is history.”

  “I thought you were on a boycott.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. She jerked her head up, eyes boiling with anger.

  “Yeah. About that. It’s none of your damn business, Mr. Shaw. As your employee, who I date isn’t any of your concern.”

  I stepped toward her, knowing full well I shouldn’t. But the smirk on her face baited me and I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Was he someone you met on one of those obnoxious dating apps?”

  “Again, not your business.”

  I’d had enough of thinking about her with someone else. Not that I had any right, but it burned me up inside nonetheless.

  “I’m ordering Thai. Standard fare. Let me know what you’d like. I’ll be in the living room.”

  I made a quick retreat, escaping her and the kid. I switched on a lamp near my couch. The room was still dark since the sun had set a couple hours ago. I sat on the couch and buried my face in my hands. It was the first quiet moment I’d had since I’d arrived at Knave. No Coco. No screaming baby. Just my rambling thoughts, running scenarios in my head.

  What if this kid was mine?

  What would I do then?

  My head felt like it was going to explode.

  I rose from the couch and poured a scotch. I went to replace the bottle in the liquor cabinet but decided to take it back with me to the living room. I needed the numbing properties in the amber liquid until my mind was too soaked to think beyond tonight.

  “Mr. Shaw.” I heard Maggie from somewhere behind me, but I didn’t move to find her. “May I please have an order of chicken pad Thai?”

  She stood in front of the coffee table, her slender legs in the sexiest pair of cut-off shorts the only part of her in my view. She was every country boy’s wet dream.

  “Also, here’s twenty dollars to cover it. I’ll pay the rest later. It’s all I have on me.” She set the menu down on the table with a twenty-dollar bill on top of it.

  “Your money’s no good here.”

  “Yes, Mr. Shaw.” She grabbed the twenty, stuffed it in her back pocket, then walked to the window and gazed out at the night sky. I wondered what she was thinking about.

  “You have a beautiful view, Mr. Shaw.” She turned around to face me, eyes trained on mine. “It’s almost like you’re cut off from the rest of the world, but no man’s an island in the end. Are they?”

  Perhaps not, but I tried to be.

  17

  Maggie

  Instead of answering my question—not that I had expected him to reply in his current state of jerkiness—Lucas threw back the rest of the liquid in his glass, then poured himself another round, not adding ice or anything else to it. He was chasing straight booze to quiet his demons. I’d watched this act play out before with an old boyfriend. The demons won.

  “Care to join me for a drink?” Lucas held his glass up toward me. His icy blue eyes trailed over my bare skin, causing me to shiver.

  “Not while I’m working.” I tilted my head and pointed toward his bedroom where Esmé slept. “Someone has to keep their wits about them.”

  “Yeah, right. It’s what I’m paying you to do.” His words weren’t just cold and thoughtless, they belittled me as if I was nothing to him.

  I stepped back and leaned against the window, my palms lying flat on the glass behind me at my hips. Lucas turned his eyes away from me and trained them on his glass of amber promises. He was old enough and obviously smart enough to know the answers he was looking for weren’t sitting inside his glass. Yet he seemed adrift, floating on a sea with no land in sight.

  My degree in psychology taught me not to take someone’s anger personally. Though, admittedly, everything he’d thrown at me since I’d knocked on the door had hurt like hell. I needed to distance myself from him. Take a step back. Instead of thinking how dare he, ask why. What happened to make him build up such a fortress, isolating him from feeling anything? Well…maybe not anything. He sure knew how to feel hate. But who did he hate? His parents? An ex-girlfriend? The answer was locked away.

  He picked up his phone and tapped away on the screen, probably ordering us dinner. I wasn’t that hungry but wanted something to give me energy in case the baby wasn’t sleeping through the night yet.

  Lucas didn’t know it, but babies were my Zen, like a natural valium to my mind and soul. I was the most sought after babysitter in my hometown. Mothers didn’t have the means Lucas had, but they would out-do each other pay-wise to have me watch their kids on a Saturday night.

  One nice thing about small children, they went to bed early, allowing me to sneak my high school boyfriend into the house later. I was giving up my Saturday night, after all, the holiest of holies to a teenager. One time, I got caught with my boyfriend when the parents came home earlier than I’d expected. Thankfully, we both had our clothes on.

  Lucas rose off the couch, an empty glass in one hand, bottle of booze in the other. He barreled through his last pour like a man lost in the desert.

  “I’m going to my office. Let me know when dinner arrives.” His shin knocked into the coffee table, making a loud crack. “Shit.”

  “That had to hurt.”

  “Not as much as this day.” He exited down a hallway to the opposite end of the apartment from his bedroom, and my shoulders slumped in relief at the reprieve from all the tension in the air. It made it difficult for me to breathe. After a few deep inhales, the extra oxygen lowered the adrenaline racing through my veins, so I headed toward the kitchen making a do-to list in my head. Esmé would be hungry when she woke up, whether it was in an hour, or, if I was lucky, way later into the night. I needed to be prepared when she did, but first, I had to find the damn light switch so I could see in the kitchen.

  After five minutes of looking high and low, I realized the switch was a screen panel, similar to a smart phone. The apartment was a smart home for smart people, unlike me. At least turning on a light didn’t require a password. Since everything was wired in the house, he was probably watching me from the other room on a computer. I shook my head, wondering if I should moon him or raise my middle finger. I had business to attend to, though, and didn’t even search for a mounted camera. There’d be time for that later.

  Lucas had the can of baby formula open and sitting on the counter, white powder scattered everywhere, and an almost empty bottle laying abandoned on its side, going sour since it wasn’t rinsed out. I marched to the sink, ready to tackle the mess.

  Fifteen minutes later, the counter sparkled. I loved rich people’s kitchens. Everything was well appointed in case a chef came to cook. I couldn’t see Lucas with a spoon in his hand—unless it was a silver heirloom.

  The baby bottle was filled with fresh spring water I’d found in the refrigerator, ready to be made into milk when the baby woke up. The fridge was like a mini-mart, stocked with everything ima
ginable. Cheeses with names I couldn’t pronounce. Fresh fruits and vegetables spilled out of their bins. I was in awe one man had this much food and still ordered out tonight for dinner. I glanced over my shoulder, then snatched up some grapes. They were almost as big as plums.

  The idea that Lucas walked the aisles of Trader Joe’s and bought all of this stuff made me laugh. I pictured him smelling melons and sampling cookies. One thing I knew as a frequent shopper there, he’d never survive the lines. Whoever stocked the shelves in front of me had bought enough essentials to survive for days.

  Next on my list was ordering baby gear off Prime. With its dense population, New York City was home delivery central. A person could get anything delivered fast. Want bone broth soup at nine in the morning? No problem. Need diapers, a car seat, bottles, infant clothes, baby shampoo, and a portable crib by eight the next morning? Easy. Though, I maxed out my credit card when I checked out of the cart.

  I peeked in on Esmé after I mentally crossed off all the things I’d needed to do. She hadn’t moved from the spot I’d laid her down on, but she had found her thumb. Her lips were secured around it but didn’t move. My heart swelled as I watched her sleeping so peacefully. She was so precious and innocent; I had to take a photo and send it to my mother. If I was a baby lover, she was baby crazy. Like cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs whacked.

  I got down on my knees, leaning on the edge on the bed, so I could get an eye-level shot. I clicked a few photos with my phone, then placed it in my back pocket, happy to have something to share with my mother besides my latest cocktail or storefront window with something I loved but couldn’t afford.

  With a big smile on my face, I turned around, heading out to the main area of the apartment to wait for the food delivery.

  Seeing Lucas leaning against the doorframe, I gasped as my heart skipped a beat. He was too tall to fit under it. His arms were crossed over his chest. Add the scowl on his face, and I knew I had screwed up.

  But what in the world had I done?

  18

  Lucas

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Daggers in my eyes, I locked my gaze on her.

  “Um, I was checking on the baby. Doing my job.” She still had her hand at her throat. Eyes wide, having been caught doing the unthinkable.

  “I saw you taking photos of her.” I pushed off the door, walking to her slowly. Her brows knitted in thought. Nice try. “What? Were you going to sell them to the gossip rags?”

  The last comment was a low blow, even for me, but I needed her to delete those photos. I wasn’t taking any chances. The last time a woman had tried to expose me, I’d ended up writing a check for millions of dollars.

  “Wait. What?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping kid. She grabbed my hand and proceeded to pull me out of the room. Her touch did things to me, and I followed.

  After she shut the bedroom door without making a sound, she faced me, her index finger in the air. “If you wake up the child, you will be the one putting her back to sleep. Got it?”

  I nodded out of fear. It wasn’t Peaches who alarmed me. Hell, I could throw her over my shoulder and spank her ass before she blinked her eyes. It was the thought of dealing with the child in any capacity that freaked me out.

  Hands on her hips, I watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was pissed about more than just waking up a baby. She was pissed I’d called her out on the taking the photos. But why was she so fucking sexy when her eyes flared with anger at me? And distracting? She was skilled at running me around in circles from topic to topic.

  “The photos.” I held out my hand. “I need to delete them from your phone.”

  She threw her hands up in the air and walked passed me down the hallway to the kitchen. I trailed behind her, enjoying the view of her ass for the first time tonight. It was fine, like the rest of her. Sadly, I couldn’t find a damn fault in her, both inside and out. I had to work on that if I was going to survive the next two days.

  “The food’s here?” She spun around toward me after seeing our dinner placed at the table. I’d set it up for us and had wanted to ask her to join me, which led me to finding her in my bedroom. Truth was, I hated eating alone and craved her being with me more than the dinner itself.

  “I was coming to let you know.” The rest of the story was implied.

  “Before I delete, or you delete Esmé’s photos, will you at least let me tell you what I was doing?”

  “If you agree to eat with me?”

  “Okay, but I can’t keep up with your mood shifts.”

  Neither could I.

  “Would you care for some wine?”

  “Remember, I’m on duty. Water is fine.”

  I set out a glass of sparkling water for her. After going to my office to stew in silence, I’d screwed the lid back on my scotch. I didn’t want to risk doing or saying something to Maggie I may regret. The more my brain was soaked with alcohol, the lower my inhibitions got—and they were already at basement levels with her.

  We started eating our dinner, or more like I ate and she moved her food around on the plate. She also avoided looking at me. It was tormenting and almost worse than eating alone.

  “My mother…” she began without looking up from her plate, “always wanted a big family. A yard crawling with children and toys scattered all over the grass was her dream. By the age of thirty-eight, she’d never married.”

  She raised her face, but avoided eye contact with me, keeping me from seeing her true feelings. She never hid those in her green gaze. They were like an open book to her soul.

  “She found a clinic in Atlanta and picked a suitable candidate for a father. It’s funny, the man she chose was an MIT graduate, and I can’t survive without a calculator.”

  Finally, our eyes met. Hers were less bright than usual. I fought back a smile, ensuring she didn’t see a crack in my armor.

  “So, I was it for her. But her arms always ached for more, so I took the photos of Esmé for her.” She scooted her phone across the long wooden table. I was at one end, she the other. “Go ahead.”

  I picked up her phone and brought up her photos, clicking on the last few with Esmé in them. She was like a sleeping cherub. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, contemplating how I was going to reply to Maggie. True to form, she had been vulnerable and let me see inside her world.

  I mistakenly believed she was no different than Meredith, the girlfriend from hell, and had planned to use my weaknesses against me—profit from the photos, leaving me even more broken than before. In accusing her, I didn’t protect myself. Instead, I wounded her. I was a fucking bastard.

  “Keep the photos. I confused you with someone else.”

  “The one who did a number on you?” She circled back to our Peaches and Herb conversation. I didn’t want to go there, especially since she wasn’t a random woman I’d never see again. She would be the first woman I hadn’t paid for sex to spend the night at my house. I’d grown tired of trying to sugarcoat the reality of those relationships.

  My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen. It was my attorney. He had a list of items to sort through for me today. I hoped he’d made some progress.

  “Sloan. Just a minute,” I answered, then tapped mute on my screen and rose from my chair. Maggie followed my moves, likely expecting me to walk away, but I didn’t.

  “I need to take this call. Sleep in my room with the kid.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Shaw,” she replied as I walked away. I’d never hated my last name more than today.

  After I shut the door to my office and sat behind my desk, I unmuted the call.

  “What do you have for me?” I leaned back in my chair, willing the sweat on my brow to evaporate.

  “Coco’s real name is Erin Russell. Her stage name is Erin Raye. She boarded an Air France flight to Paris out of JFK at nine thirty tonight. She’s in the air and will arrive in three hours.”

  “What can we do once she lands?”

 
“I’m talking with our international office in Lyons. At this point, we haven’t involved the authorities here in New York, so I believe our options are limited. Civil suits versus anything criminal. Unless you want to file a report with the NYPD.”

  There was always a chance an insider at the precinct would auction a scandalous story like this out to the press. Probably someone wanting to take their wife to Florida on vacation. I could see the headlines in the Post at the newsstand.

  “Lucas Shaw, billionaire heir to the Iron Gate fortune has child with escort.” Or worse—the company’s stocks would fall and my father would be on the warpath for me to resign. Who knew, the board might even agree with him.

  “No police. At least not yet.”

  “Understood. The good news is you have an appointment tomorrow morning at ten at a state-of-the-art clinic. They’re opening on a Sunday just for you. The paternity test results will be available by the end of the day. I’ll send you the details via email.”

  “Let me know if anything changes. Also, find out where Coco—I mean Erin is staying in Paris and a contact number for her. Start with her agent.”

  “Already on it,” Sloan said, and I ended the call.

  I hadn’t expected same-day results. I’d guessed it would take at least a day or two. I was relieved I didn’t have to wait, but also anxious to find out if I was the child’s father. I pushed the inconceivable thought out of my head. If I kept traveling down that path, I’d end up reaching for the scotch bottle again.

  The photo on my desk of my mother and me when I was only three years old taunted me. I reached for it. My mother had passed down her crystal blue eyes to me. Hers had dimmed since the accident. Mine had hardened to ice. And the child’s matched ours, shining brightly with the innocence of new life. I threw the photo at the wall and watched as it crashed to the ground. The glass shattered on the floor, possibly along with my life.

  19