We hadn’t been up to the rooftop garden in a long time. As soon as I pushed open the heavy steel door, I regretted not making better use of it over summer. It was the ultimate escape from the bustling city, and with a little effort I could make-believe we were somewhere else.
“It’s so lovely up here,” said Charli wandering to the edge to check out the night-time view.
However impressive the illuminated cityscape might’ve been, it was never going to be lovelier than her. It would’ve been grossly inadequate to say that there was just something about her because the attraction wasn’t that random.
It was her unique mind and wild heart that kept me enchanted. Even after all this time, I wouldn’t survive a day without a dose of either. But at that moment the attraction was much simpler – her smile as she glanced back at me is what made my heart start thumping. It was bright, warm and bewitching – the epitome of Charli and all that she meant to me.
I didn’t want to tell her how lovely she looked. I wanted to tell her something more valuable. “I’m glad I married you.”
The random declaration sounded odd, but not to Charlotte. She turned, resting her back against the guardrail. “Is the talk of weddings making you nostalgic, Adam?”
“No,” I replied. “It’s making me thankful that we eloped.”
Charli pushed off the rail and ambled toward me. “Don’t you ever wish we’d had a big wedding?”
As soon as she was near, I reached for her hand. “No, but I’ll marry you again if you want a wedding.”
“You would?” Her brown eyes widened. “Why?”
I raised her hand and slowly turned her around, pulling her back against my chest. “Because I don’t want you to miss a single thing because you chose me,” I whispered in her ear.
She ran her hand along my forearm. “What about the things you’ve missed?”
Her question was absurd. The only thing I was missing was the second-rate life of a second-rate man. I shuddered to think who I’d be without Charli and Bridget in my life.
“I haven’t missed anything.”
“Except getting laid,” she murmured. “That never happens, right?”
I swept her hair across her shoulder and breathed the next words against her skin. “I’ve more than been punished for that slight embellishment, Charlotte.”
“It’s going to take a long time to live it down,” she predicted. “And now they all know we’re planning another baby.”
“Ryan already knew,” I confessed. “I told him. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” she muttered. “I told your mother.”
I stifled my laugh against her shoulder. “Well, that makes me feel a lot better.”
Charli broke my hold. “Better about what?”
“I told my dad too,” I admitted.
Her thumb found the dent in my cheek. “Quite the little family of over-sharers, aren’t we?”
“It doesn’t matter how many secrets we give away, Charli.” My gaze wandered from her eyes to her mouth. “It’s the ones we keep that count.”
“Tell me a secret.” Her soft voice held zero authority. “One full of lovely words and promises.”
“Something no one else knows?”
“Just us.”
I didn’t speak again. I leaned, kissing her perfect lips. Her touch was gentle but the effect she had on me never was. The charge that passed between us was powerful enough to steal words from my mouth and thoughts from my head – and I’d experienced it enough times to know that it was never going to weaken or disappear.
It was the embodiment of us, and the whole explanation as to why we were the special two. That was the secret we were always going to keep.
***
The next week was strangely uneventful for us. Charli kept her promise and had no contact with her mother. Olivia’s impromptu visits to the gallery stopped, but I suspect that was because for the time being, Charli was serving a purpose.
For reasons I’ll never understand, Charli had roped my mother into supporting Olivia’s upcoming charity event. I knew very little about it because I refused to hear the details. The whole notion was offensive, but a deal is a deal.
Upholding my end of the bargain meant accompanying Bridget to ballet lessons three days a week. My little girl’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned. If anything she was growing more excited by the prospect of dancing in the stupid concert.
Olivia did what she does best, elevating Bridget with high praise and fake promises, then waiting until she was out of earshot before reminding me that my daughter’s self confidence was resting on a knife’s edge.
“One of these days someone’s going to break it to her that her co-ordination is non-existent,” she warned. “Poor little mite.” She cooed insincerely. “How will she cope?”
“I doubt we’ll find out any time soon, Olivia,” I replied, barely casting a glance her way. “We’re both getting what we want at this stage of the game. Bridget’s off-limits for now. We both know that.”
Olivia had a lot riding on my mother’s presence at her event. The only thing charitable about philanthropic ventures in Manhattan is the actual giving of money. Everything else that goes along with it is a big show of social standing and popularity – neither of which Olivia had. She needed Décarie support, and I needed to see my kid dance on a stage in a sparkly tutu. Once those two events played out, all bets were off.
“How are you going to break it to Bridget that she’ll be leaving my class soon?” Olivia asked curiously. “I mean, you’re going to remove her after the concert, aren’t you?”
Ignoring the question, I looked past her and called out to Bridget, who was sitting on the floor of the studio struggling to put her boots back on. “I’ve got to get back to work, Bridge.”
Her little backpack thumped against her back as she scurried over. “I’m ready now,” she announced, leaping at me.
I fought the urge to slap Olivia’s hand away when she reached out and stroked Bridget’s hair. “Don’t forget about the extra lessons leading up to the concert, will you?”
It was impossible to maintain a friendly tone, even for my daughter’s benefit. “What extra lessons?” I snapped.
Her smile looked more like a smirk. “Starting tonight at six o’clock. Extra practice is important,” she said. “Don’t let Bridget down by keeping her away.”
Bridget bunched up a fistful of my shirt in her hand. “Please, Daddy,” she pleaded.
I glared at Olivia, so furious that I could feel my temples throbbing. “We’ll be here.”
There was no mistaking her smirk for a smile now. “Of course you will,” she agreed.
***
If I could manage to turn up to a job I detested every single day, surely I could do the same for a few extra ballet lessons in the week leading up to the concert. At least, that was my rationale when trying to psyche myself into it. Having to deal with Olivia wasn’t my only gripe. It was also the fact that it cut into valuable time that I just didn’t have.
The sale of the club had finally gone through, and I’d managed to pull most of the permits together. Ryan and I were free to start renovations, which would’ve been great had I have had the time to do it.
He wasn’t exactly free and easy either. The plans for the wedding of the century were now completely out of control. We stood on the steps outside the club while he explained the latest turn of events.
“Freaking doves, Adam,” grumbled Ryan. “Ivy suggested releasing doves.”
I couldn’t help laughing, even at the risk of having him take a swing at me. “Why not just go to the park and wrangle some pigeons?” I handed him a roll of blueprints. “Or squirrels. Bridget knows a few. I’m sure she could hook you up.”
“You are such a dick,” he scolded – but he did smile.
I didn’t venture much farther than the front steps that day. I quickly met with Tiger, then picked up a cab and went home to collect Bridget for her lesson.
“How come w
e didn’t know about extra lessons?” quizzed Charli, trailing behind me as I carried Bridget to the door.
“Because I suspect it’s a last-minute lesson plan designed to aggravate.” I leaned down and chastely kissed her. “See you soon.”
Charli nodded. “Have fun, baby.”
Bridget looked over my shoulder. “Treasure will look after you,” she said seriously. “But don’t touch her, okay? Just look nicely at her.”
“I’ll do my best,” muttered Charli.
55. DUMB LUCK
Charli
Bridget never knew how much her dad went over and above to make sure her little heart was happy. The last thing he had time for was trekking downtown for the second dance class of the day, but he did it without question.
I could feel the end in sight. All we had to do was hold out until the concert and then cut all ties with Olivia. Our plan was to tell Bridget that the concert was the big finale. Dance classes were ending and it was time to move on. It didn’t even feel like a bad lie to tell. It was more like damage control, designed to stem the bleeding associated with having my mother in her life.
I hadn’t had a thing to do with Olivia since Fiona sent confirmation that her party would book all thirty tables at the charity event. This was further affirmation that I was nothing more than a foot in the door to her.
Olivia meant nothing to me either. I was fast giving up the idea that there was an element of fate that brought her our way. Adam called it dumb luck, and after weeks of torment I finally found myself agreeing with him.
With that realisation, the determination to keep the news of Olivia from Alex was slipping. Curiosity was gnawing at me. I never felt like I got the truth from her, but he’d never told me anything at all.
In a move that took me fifteen minutes to work up to, I called him with the intention of asking why.
“My favourite daughter,” he announced as soon as he picked up. “Where have you been?”
Just the sound of his voice took me to a place no one else could. It felt like home, no matter where in the world I was.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I defended with a smile. “I haven’t heard from you either.”
“I know.” I could hear the regret in his voice. “Having a baby in the house lessens the number of hours in the day.”
It was a fact I remembered well. I thought back to the times when I had to decide between eating and washing my hair because there wasn’t time for both. For a split second it seemed crazy to want to do it all again, and then I remembered how much joy Bridget had brought us for no other reason than just being.
Alex was in that zone. He was smitten by all things Jack and Gabi, and rightly so. He was finally experiencing all the good that he deserved, and I quickly realised that now wasn’t the time to taint it with pointless questions about his time with my mother. Alex Blake was no quitter. If he’d moved on from Olivia without ever looking back, it could only be because the past is where she belonged.
“How is Jack?” I asked. “Still cute?”
It was a redundant question. The pudgy little bundle was about as cute as a baby could be. I was merely trying to keep the conversation light.
“You were much cuter than your brother,” he teased. “The kid has so much hair that he wakes up looking like he’s licked a power socket.”
I laughed, and when he did too, I laughed harder.
The next few minutes of conversation were just as easy and silly – a firm reminder that I shouldn’t have avoided calling him for as long as I did. I was always going to need Alex, and he never failed to make me feel like he needed me in equal measure. It seemed criminal that I’d invested so much time in someone who was incapable of feeling that way.
“I miss you like sleep,” he told me. “I’m hoping both come back to me soon.”
“Soon,” I said vaguely. “I think it’s on the cards.”
I didn’t want to give him too much hope. Nothing had been decided. Nothing had even been discussed.
“Everything’s alright though, right?” he asked quietly.
I pulled in a settling breath so that my reply would sound steady and true. “We’re good, Dad,” I assured. “I’m going to call you in a few days, okay?”
“You can call me every day if you want to,” he replied. “Even when things aren’t good.”
What more did I need for crying out loud? I sat down on the edge of the bed feeling infinitely more at ease. “I love you, Alex,” I said strongly. “And your Parisienne princess and your hairy baby.”
***
I adored my job at the gallery, but life on the beach was beginning to beckon. I refused to mention it to Adam because I knew he’d have our bags packed before I got the words out.
My contract was up, and a tiny part of me was hoping that Bronson wouldn’t renew it. I wouldn’t have to decide then. My reason for staying in New York would be gone. I’d taken a ridiculous amount of time off during the weeks that Mrs Brown took a break, and was sure he’d take that into account when deciding, but I arrived at work the next morning to find a new contract sitting on my desk.
“Read through it and sign it, darling,” he demanded. “Perhaps get your Wedgwood beauty to approve the terms.”
“I will,” I assured. “I’ll let you know in a few days.”
“Let me know what?” he asked. “Just sign it. You like my gallery and my gallery likes you.”
Bronson Merriman was nothing if not idealistic. It made a nice change from the day-to-day tangles of my life. In all the time I’d known him, he’d never given me an ounce of grief – until that moment.
He swivelled his chair around and waved a piece of paper at me. “Your mother’s account is past due,” he said casually. “Be a love and fix it.”
I almost stammered as I asked how, which was a silly reaction. There was nothing remotely shocking about finding out that Olivia had reneged on their agreement and made off with a thirty thousand dollar piece of artwork.
“Go and collect payment.” His lax tone suggested it was no big deal. “Or pay it yourself. Call it an early Christmas present.”
I’d given Olivia enough gifts lately, and planned to make sure she was long gone by Christmas. That would be her gift to me.
I grabbed my bag. “I’ll go and see her now,” I offered. “I’m sure it just slipped her mind.”
I must’ve sounded believable; otherwise he would’ve held me down and forced me to write a cheque before leaving. As easy-going as Bronson was, he didn’t play around when money was involved.
***
I spent the cab ride plotting my speech in my head. I’d simply imply that the thirty thousand dollar bill slipped her mind – and then try not to cringe as I said it.
I had no idea how it would play out, but I knew Olivia well enough to know that she wasn’t going to apologise and cut me a cheque. What I wasn’t expecting was a warm welcome at the door.
It wasn’t my first rodeo when it came to deflecting disingenuous displays of affection. Fiona Décarie used to be the worst offender when it came to lacklustre hugs and cheek kisses that barely connected – and it never felt anywhere near as awkward as the hug Olivia gave me. My arms remained firmly at my sides as she wrapped me in her embrace. “I’ve missed you terribly in the last couple of weeks.” The claim was as phony as her hug. “I’ve just been so busy. Bridget has been keeping me in the loop, though. She’s quite the little chatterbox at ballet.”
Ordinarily, a loaded statement like that would’ve rattled me, but I was determined to stay on task. “I understand you’ve been busy.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the invoice. “I’m sure this slipped your mind, but it’s past due. Bronson asked me to follow up on it.”
Olivia took a step back, refusing to take the paper from me. “I’m mildly offended, Charli.”
My heart began thudding at an alarming rate. Her words were innocuous, but they usually were before things took a turn for the nasty. I looked past her, glancing at the exp
ensive piece of art taking pride of place above the reception desk. It was too big to grab and make a run for it. I was going to have to stay and duke it out.
“I don’t want you to be offended,” I said quietly. “I’d just like you to write me a cheque.” I could barely look at her, but Olivia had no problem staring me down. “Then I’ll let you get back to work. I can see you’re busy.”
I looked from left to right, emphasizing the fact that the place was completely void of anyone else besides us. It was a sly dig that rivalled hers. Perhaps it was finally a hint of proof that we truly were related.
Olivia walked to the reception desk, leaving me hanging with the invoice in my hand. “Perhaps you could cover it for me,” she suggested. “Just for a few weeks.”
Not so long ago, I would’ve done it. In the beginning I’d wanted her to like me, just as I’d tried desperately hard to like her. Those days were gone. She was never going to like me – no matter what I did for her.
“No, I don’t think so.” I didn’t even sound regretful, and felt proud because of it. I waved the invoice at her. “I need this settled today.”
Olivia sat down at her desk. “Well, that’s probably not going to happen, and frankly, Charli, I’m surprised that you’re taking it this far.”
“It’s a thirty thousand dollar painting,” I brusquely reminded her. “The only reason Bronson let you walk out with it was –”
“Because you’re my daughter,” she interrupted. “I expected that to mean something to you.”
As far as displays of fakery went, that was her grandest. For the first time ever, I called her out on it. “What does it mean to you, Olivia?” I edged closer to her desk. “Because to be honest, I’m not exactly feeling the connection.”
Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. It was the total opposite of how I was feeling. My chest was so tight it ached.
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