I jiggled her up and down and patted her bottom until her cries subsided into cute baby sniffles. When she quieted, Stacy reached for her, and I let my friend hold my daughter. Annabelle seated herself beside them to coo and fuss over my baby. Busying myself in the kitchen with gathering sodas from the fridge and putting out glasses and a bowl of ice cubes, I let my thoughts wander back to my tiff with Jack. He looked so pissed when he found out I’d forbidden Annabelle to give him my number. It made me wonder if that had been the right move.
At the time, I don’t think I would have believed him about Dakota’s practical jokes. At least it would have been hard to believe him with only his voice on the other end of a phone to go by. Now I knew him so much better. Our relationship in high school had been so intense that we understood each other exceptionally well. The intervening years hadn’t changed that, which was surprising. Still, in the past two weeks I’d come to know him in so many ways that I hadn’t before. Annabelle’s lack of discretion allowed me to see how my lack of trust had hurt him. Clearly, I’d have to make it up to him somehow.
The woman in question interrupted my thoughts. “What’s that secretive smile about?” she asked slyly.
“None of your business, gossip girl.” Indicating the spread on my bar, I said, “Sorry I have nothing more drinkable than pop. But at least I have a variety. Come help yourselves.”
Annabelle hung back, allowing Stacy to grab a drink before coming around the island to stand near me. “Any chance you can get me invited out with Balefire while the band’s in Denver this summer?”
“They’ll start rehearsals for their next album in a next couple of weeks. But if Jack invites me to join them, I’m sure I’ll need someone to ride with me.” I grinned at her, and she winked. “Besides, from what Jack tells me, I owe you a return favor. Though I think you hurt your friend Bailey’s feelings when you hooked up with Dakota that night.”
“I didn’t promise Bailey anything when I accepted those tickets, which were from Jack by the way.” She popped the top on a can of pop and expertly poured it over the ice in her glass, a fizzy head forming perfectly at the rim. “Bailey and I were only the go-betweens for Jack to hook up with you.” She leaned back against the island and sipped her drink. “How do you know him again?”
I poured a can of cream soda over the ice cubes in my glass, watching to make sure the fizz didn’t overwhelm the glass. “We dated when we were in high school. Then he auditioned for a band called Rude Awakening, won the job, and moved on.” A sip of creamy, tangy deliciousness soothed the bitterness of the memory. “Until that night at Red Rocks, I hadn’t seen Jack in almost five years.”
“Obviously, he didn’t forget you in all that time. Since you had such a nice reunion.” Annabelle smirked. “Not that Angel isn’t beautiful and a blessing and all, but maybe you should have listened to me about having condoms in your purse.”
“What happened that night is none of your business, Annabelle.” I glared at her. “And I wouldn’t trade my baby girl for anything. Excuse me.”
I walked back over to Stacy who was busy entertaining Angel. Annabelle was a friend, a sister in the house, and someone I truly cared about, but if I talked to her any longer—
The chiming of the doorbell interrupted us.
“You don’t make Jack ring the bell, do you, Clio?” Annabelle asked with a laugh.
“Not usually,” I said as I stared at the door, perplexed.
“Um, there’s only one way to find out who’s on the other side,” Stacy said when I didn’t immediately make a move to answer the door.
The bell chimed again, and a sense of foreboding fell over me.
“Girls, would you mind taking the baby into the bedroom please? Besides you guys and Jack, I don’t have visitors, and I’d rather not take any chances where Angel is concerned.”
Stacy disappeared into the bedroom with Angel while Annabelle maintained her place casually leaning against the counter in my kitchen. From where she stood, she had a clear view of the front door to my place and whoever I opened it to.
Tugging at my shirt and smoothing my hair, I took four steps to my front door and cracked it open. On the other side stood a man dressed in an expensive charcoal-gray suit over an understated dove-colored dress shirt with a dark purple tie. From his impeccably cut sable hair to his shiny Italian leather dress shoes, he exuded wealth and power. The man who rang my bell looked to be someone used to giving commands that others obeyed.
The once-over he gave me when I opened the door told me he cataloged me just as I’d done him. A barefoot college girl wearing cutoff jean shorts and a sleeveless lemon-yellow button-down shirt, no doubt gave the impression I’d be happy to do whatever this exceptionally well-put-together man demanded.
“May I help you?” I inquired politely. Though I had a sneaking suspicion who, or at least what, he was, I knew better than to antagonize him—at least not right away.
Handing me a business card he retrieved from the inside pocket of his jacket, he said, “You’re Clio Barnes, I presume?”
From his tone alone, even without reading his name or the word Esquire following it on his card, I knew this man was a lawyer. My breath stuck in my chest before my heart tripped into double time as it tried to climb into the back of my throat.
Practicing a trick I’d learned long ago when dealing with Harrison and Meredith, I inhaled slowly and quietly through my nose, held my breath for second, then let it out before answering. “Harrison Barnes sent you, I presume?” I asked, mimicking the man’s tone.
“It has come to his attention that you are perhaps not in a position to take care of an infant to whom you’ve recently given birth. I’m here to determine if that’s true.”
He took a step toward me as though he meant to walk right through my door. Over my dead body.
“On what authority?” I asked. My legs started to shake, but I didn’t move, requiring him to halt his forward progress or walk right into me.
“Mr. Barnes’s business associate came to visit you recently, did he not?”
“So?”
“He gave us to understand that you lack decorum. He also reported a baby cried for nearly the entire time he spoke to you, which shows you to have little understanding of how to take care of an infant since not once did you check on said infant.” Glancing past my shoulder, his shrewd eyes took in as much of my apartment as he could see. Which was most of it. “Apparently, your drinking and entertaining are more important than taking care of your infant.” I gaped at his ridiculous assumptions, but before I could set him straight, he said, “Mr. Barnes is willing to take in the infant and has the means to ensure its well-being. If you’ll allow me, I’ll just come in and have you sign the papers. Then we’ll send over a nanny to collect the child.” Again, he moved to walk into my apartment, but I stood my ground.
“Y-you want me to sign away my baby?” I whispered incredulously.
“Be reasonable, Miss Barnes.” The man flashed a patronizing smile. “You’re living in a squalid apartment and rearing a child on your own without any means to support it. Surely, even you can see that giving the child to his grandparents is in his best interests. As his mother, you must want what’s best for the child.”
The man’s carefully modulated voice exuded confident reasonableness, like me signing Angel over to him was merely a business transaction—and a foregone conclusion.
Before I could sputter out a response to the smarmy bastard, Annabelle was there shoving herself in front of me like an avenging angel. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you can’t barge into my friend’s home,” she emphasized the word, “insult her, and casually demand she give you her child. Her parents”—she spat that word—“kicked her out and disowned her when she told them she was pregnant. Now they want to take her baby?” Her voice rose an octave. “You need to get the fuck out of here before we call the cops and have them drag your sorry ass to jail for harassment. You can’t simply show up at so
meone’s house and demand she sign over her child. Where the fuck do you get off?”
She jerked the door out of my hand and slammed it hard in the lawyer’s face. Then for good measure, she dead-bolted it. Calling through the door, she said, “How’s that for decorum? You have five seconds to remove yourself from Clio’s doormat before I dial 9-1-1. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
Annabelle stuck her eye up against the peephole then stepped back and grinned. “Guess he didn’t feel like getting arrested today.”
My legs went out from under me, and I crumpled to the floor. Annabelle sobered up immediately and knelt beside me. “Clio, are you okay?”
She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her.
“They’re going to try to take her, Annabelle. Harrison and Meredith are going to try to take Angel away from me. They can’t have her. I won’t give her up,” I said. The dam broke on the emotions I’d been holding back since I opened my door, tears streaming down my face.
“I know you don’t want anyone to know who your baby daddy is, but you may not have a choice about making that info public. It might be the only way to keep your parents from taking your baby,” Annabelle said into my hair as she held me.
From somewhere behind us, I heard Stacy say, “Jack’s a big rock star. He should have some good lawyers. I bet he can make your parents stay away from Angel.”
“Wow. After everything you had to do on your own, now they want to barge back into your life? Honestly, when you were telling us what your parents did to you, I had a hard time believing it. Now I see you didn’t make that shit up. I’m so sorry, Clio.”
The concern in Annabelle’s voice tipped me over the edge, and I started sobbing all over again. The lawyer’s visit reminded me exactly how little I truly mattered to the people who made me.
My friends let me cry it out for a little while before Annabelle tugged me up to stand. Holding me by the shoulders, she said, “This situation calls for something much more fortifying than Cokes.” She walked over to the couch and grabbed her purse. As she unlatched the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. “You clean her up, Stacy. I’ll be back in a few. I’ll knock instead of ring the bell. Then you’ll know I’m not a snotty lawyer or something.”
Understanding what she was trying to do, I sniffed back my tears and smiled weakly at her. Before Harrison’s lawyer had shown up at my door, I kind of wanted to smack Annabelle for her attitude. Now I was so grateful to have her as my friend and champion. It took someone with her total disregard for what anyone thought to stand up to people as persistent and coldhearted as Harrison and Meredith Barnes.
When Annabelle left, Stacy helped me to my bedroom, where I changed into a clean pair of white capris and a sky blue camisole. After I changed, I checked on my sleeping baby, unable to stop myself from feathering my fingertips over her precious head, down the side of her face, and over her perfect little body. At my touch, she let out a sigh and stretched, but remained asleep.
“I was always such a good girl, you know?” I began quietly. “Stayed out of their way, never demanded anything, always showed gratitude for everything they gave me. All I wanted was their love, but I guess it was too much to ask.”
“They can’t take her, you know,” Stacy murmured. “They’d need to prove you’re an unfit mother, and you’re not. You’ve done everything right with Angel. I would testify in court that you’re the best mom ever.” She covered the hand I rested on the edge of the bassinet with her own and gave me a squeeze.
“You would stand up for me in court? Because it really might come to that.” The tears threatened again, but I swallowed them down. All my life, they’d made me invisible, while I desperately wanted them to see me. To love me. Now I had something they thought they wanted, and all I wanted was for them to leave me alone. More than ever, I needed to hold it together and think through how to fight Harrison and Meredith.
While Stacy and I stood silently together beside Angel’s bassinet, we heard sounds outside my front door. My heart tripped at what they might be, but true to her word, Annabelle announced her return a few seconds later with a series of knocks. When I opened the door, she sailed in carrying four four-packs of White Claw. “It’s not enough for serious drinking, but enough to give us a little buzz and take away the sound of evil bastard lawyer’s voice in our heads,” she said as she set the alcohol on the island.
“That guy really worked you up, didn’t he?” Stacy asked with a grin as she helped herself to a lemon White Claw.
“Son of a bitch!” Annabelle popped the top off her drink with way more force than the circumstance called for. “Who does he think he is, making unfounded accusations and insisting Clio give up Angel like he’s repossessing a car or something?” She paced back and forth in front my couch like the carpet was responsible for every evil lawyer in the world. “He’s outrageous! Slamming the door in his face wasn’t nearly enough. I hope I’m here when he comes back again.” She stopped moving as an evil grin spread over her mouth. “Wonder what his fancy suit would look like with a little extra color, say mustard yellow?”
Stacy’s mouth rounded into an astonished O. “Annabelle! You wouldn’t!”
“Or maybe grape jelly? That would go nicely with his tie, don’t you think, Clio?” Annabelle swigged her drink, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Somehow I don’t think ruining his thousand-dollar suit would help my cause much.” I grinned. “But I’m enjoying the visual I have of his face with you shooting jelly all over him.” I laughed and tipped my drink in her direction before taking a sip.
“I couldn’t help but overhear him mention that you ‘lack decorum,’” Stacy said, air-quoting the words. “What did he mean by that? You have the best manners of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I may or may not have told my father’s business partner to fuck off when he came snooping around here the other day.” I grimaced.
My friends’ collective intake of breath at that revelation was almost comical. Then they started talking over each other.
“You did? Oh my God, Clio. You never swear.”
“Atta girl, Clio. Show ’em some backbone.”
“That visit today is probably because I didn’t ‘show any decorum.’” I glanced at the four-packs of White Claw resting on my island and sighed.
“Clio, I think you’re going to have to ask your boyfriend for some help here,” Stacy said as she made herself comfortable on the couch.
“I know.” I went to the cupboard to find some chips. “But if we have to involve the band’s lawyers, something is going to show up in the press. I don’t want to deal with the press. At. All.” I tore open the bag and shook the contents into a bowl I set on the coffee table.
We nursed our drinks in silence for several minutes, when a moment in the lawyer’s conversation with me came back to me. “Annabelle, you heard the entire conversation with that lawyer, right?”
“Yeah?” She dragged out the word, turning it into a question.
“Did I make this up, or did he keep referring to my baby as ‘him?’”
She took a sip from her can, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, he did. He kept calling Angel ‘the infant’ and ‘him.’ Why?”
Smiling my first genuine smile all afternoon, I said, “They’re fishing. Since I haven’t posted anything on social media, and my medical records are private, they don’t know the sex of my baby. For whatever reason, probably wishful thinking, they’re assuming I had a boy. Once they find out ‘the infant’ is a she, they’ll disappear back into their money and their parties and their life without their embarrassment of a daughter and her failure to even get motherhood right.”
“What are you saying, Clio?” Stacy asked, a horrified look flaring over her face.
“My parents wanted a son. They had me instead. When I turned out kind of smart”—my friends rolled their eyes at each other and at me—“they decided I might have some value. But I disappointed them again by not following my father to business
school and a seat at his corporate table.” I sat heavily on the couch. “They want their grandson to be Harrison’s protégé and heir apparent in his business. Only there is no grandson. When they find out, they’ll go away again.” The thought both elated and depressed me.
“How can your parents be so sexist?” Annabelle asked.
“They have old-fashioned values, I guess.” I toyed with a chip, snapping it into crumbs. “They were older when I came along, and Meredith couldn’t have any more children. Harrison was well on his way to building his financial empire by then, and he wanted it to be a dynastic enterprise carrying the Barnes name into eternity.”
“No megalomania there at all.” Disgust dripped from Stacy’s words.
“But Clio, even if you’d been a boy, there was no guarantee you would have followed in your dad’s footsteps or even been very good at finance,” Annabelle pointed out.
I waved my hand at her. “I doubt that would have been a consideration. Anyway”—I gathered chip crumbs into my palm and stood to put my mess in the trash—“it doesn’t matter now. Though I do have to admit to being surprised they’re coming after my baby after denouncing me the way they did back in October.”
What I truly wondered was what was going on in Harrison and Meredith’s lives that made them decide they wanted something—anything—from me.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack
After spending the better part of the afternoon shopping for furniture for the condo I’d leased for Clio and me—her bed needed replacing in the worst way—I returned to her apartment in a better mood than when I left it. My better mood didn’t change that we needed to discuss why she wouldn’t let me have her number after Red Rocks, though. That move had cost us way too much time apart after all the years we’d already lost because I didn’t read the fine print on a contract. Once.
When I arrived, I found Clio cleaning up her kitchen. Judging from the empty White Claw cans she dropped in the trash, the girls had had a little party while I was out.
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