by Vi Keeland
Chloe came running back toward me. She was now dressed in a pink fluffy gown and was wearing a plastic crown. Before I could practically blink, a white, feather boa was placed around my neck.
“Chloe, Graham may not want to dress up like a lady.”
“It’s fine. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with my feminine side. It’s been on my to-do list.”
Chloe grabbed my phone and handed it to me. “Take a picture of us!”
I snapped a selfie of Chloe and me and instinctively forwarded it to Soraya. Not knowing her mood tonight, I second-guessed my decision to send it, but it was too late.
“I’ll be back,” Chloe said as she snatched the boa from around me. She took off back to her room, leaving Genevieve and me alone in the living room. A few stray feathers had fallen in her wake, landing on the rug.
“You’re really great with her, Graham.”
“This feels more…natural…than I expected.”
“Of course it does. Because she’s yours.”
Before we could continue the conversation, Chloe came flying toward me again. This time, she was dressed in a red Christmassy looking gown with white, fur trim. She was holding a black top hat.
“Are you a snow princess?”
“I’m a Christmas princess.” She placed the top hat on my head. “And you’re Scrooge.”
“I think there are a lot of people who would probably say you just typecast me, Chloe.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. I had to keep reminding myself I was talking to a four-and-a-half-year-old.
The dress-up game went on for about an hour before Genevieve told Chloe that she had to go to bed.
“It’s already a half-hour past your bedtime. Say goodnight to Graham.”
My daughter walked toward me. My daughter. I still had to get used to it. She stopped in front of my face. God, she looked so much like my mother. Mom would have loved her so much. That reminded me that I needed to set time aside to break this news to Meme.
I couldn’t help taking my hands and cupping Chloe’s cheeks. I didn’t want to scare her, but I’d been wanting to do it all night, and this was my last opportunity.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Will you come back?”
“You can count on that, Chloe.” No truer words had ever come out of my mouth. She was going to have a hell of a time ever trying to get rid of me.
***
TONIGHT HAD DEFINITELY GONE BETTER than I could have ever anticipated.
Back in the town car, the warm feeling inside of me was quickly replaced with worry when I checked my phone and realized that Soraya never responded to the picture I’d sent her. A sinking feeling came over me. It wasn’t like her not to respond to one of my texts.
I was an idiot.
A total fucking dumbass.
I should have never sent that picture.
My heart started to pound. Should I leave her alone tonight or head to Brooklyn?
“Just park in front of the condo, Louis. I’m not sure yet where I’m headed.”
Just as the car came to a stop at my building, my phone buzzed with a text notification.
Sorry. I didn’t get this until now. My phone was charging in the other room. You look adorable in a boa. Glad things went well. I think I’m turning in early tonight. I feel a little under the weather. Talk tomorrow. xo
Letting out a massive sigh of relief that she responded, I leaned my head back in the seat before rereading the message over again. I wasn’t sure whether to head to Brooklyn or not. She said she wasn’t feeling well. I picked up the phone and dialed her, but it went to voicemail. Was she ignoring my call or had she already gone to bed? Maybe she shut her ringer off. When the phone beeped to leave a message, I just started rambling.
“Hi, gorgeous. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. I just wanted to hear your voice before I turned in for the night. You’re probably already in bed. Tonight went well. I want you to meet her when you’re ready. But, Soraya, you need to know something. I don’t think I would have been ready for this if it weren’t for you. The man I was a few years ago is not the man I am now. I was a miserable person. Liam was the better father for her then. I’m convinced. But because of you, I’ll be the kind of father she deserves now. Because you’ve taught me so much about what’s important in life.”
I paused.
Fuck.
Tell her you love her. Just tell her.
“Soraya, I—”
BEEP.
The damn thing cut me off.
CHAPTER 21
SORAYA
I HADN’T NOTICED THE TOWN CAR parked at the curb outside of my building until the window rolled down, and his sexy voice caught my attention. “Wanna ride, beautiful?”
I sashayed to the dark car. “That depends. What kind of a ride are you offering, Mr. Big Prick?”
Catching me by surprise, Graham opened the door, tugged my arm and pulled me inside and across his lap in one swift movement. The playfulness of his action had me smiling, even though it was morning and I hadn’t had my second cup of coffee. That was a rarity.
I giggled, probably sounding like a schoolgirl, but couldn’t help myself. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to give my woman a lift to work.”
“Your woman? You sound like a caveman.” Which I secretly loved.
He buried his face in my neck and breathed in deep. When his breath whooshed out, I felt tension leave his body. “I missed you last night. You weren’t feeling well. Are you better today?”
“I am, actually. I thought I was starting to come down with something. But a good night’s sleep made me feel a lot better.”
“You know what else can make you feel better?” His right arm was across my lap keeping me pinned in place while his other hand started to sneak up my thigh. I was wearing a skirt allowing him easy access.
“Let me guess, your penis? Your penis can make me feel better?”
“Now that you mention it, I’m sure it would. But that’s not what I had in mind, actually.”
“It’s not?”
He shook his head slowly. “Actually, I’ve been fantasizing about how damn sexy you look when you come and I wanted to have the opportunity to watch you closely. I was thinking I’d like to finger fuck you on the way to work today. When I’m inside of you, I’m too distracted to really study your face.”
“You want to study my face...” I twirled my finger around pointing in the general vicinity of my lap. “while you…”
“Finger fuck you. Yes.”
I looked into Graham’s eyes. He was dead serious. Without unlocking our gaze, I spoke to his driver, “71st and York, please, Louis.”
Graham’s pupils dilated as he pushed the button for the privacy divider with a smile that was a delicious cross between wicked and delighted. He was dressed for work in his usual custom tailored suit, looking every inch the powerful businessman he was. Yet in that moment, the only business he was focused on was me. That look in itself aroused me. So when he kept me on his lap and spread my legs open, I was already wet for him. He didn’t have to work hard to get what he came for. Remarkably, feeling his eyes fixated on me the whole time didn’t make me self-conscious. Instead, it actually heightened what I was feeling by knowing he was getting off on watching me.
We weren’t even to the Brooklyn Bridge before I was finished. Sated, I sighed contently, resting my head against his chest. “This is so much better than the train.”
He chuckled. “I hope you’re referring to my services and not the mode of transportation.”
“Of course.”
His arms were wrapped around me, and he squeezed me before kissing the top of my head. “These services are available to you twenty-four seven, Soraya. Just say the word.”
Enjoying the post-release serenity and the feeling of being wrapped in Graham’s arms, I was quiet for a while—we both were. After we had crossed into Manhattan, I knew we didn’t have
much time left before we arrived at my office, and I felt guilty for not asking about last night yet.
“I loved the picture of Chloe and you with your boa that you sent last night. It looked like you had a good first visit.”
“She’s extraordinary.”
I pulled my head from his chest to watch him speak. His eyes lit up as he spoke about her. “She’s smart and funny. And sarcastic. And beautiful.” He stroked my cheek. “She’s a lot like you, actually.”
“Her mother is smart and beautiful.”
“How fucked up would it be for me to say I went home last night thinking I wished she was ours?”
“Pretty fucked up.” I paused. “But also honest and sweet.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
That was terrifying to me. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
Graham nodded as if he understood, although I saw the hurt in his eyes.
“But I want to hear all about her from you. I just think we need to take this slow. I don’t really know the first thing about children, and we’re still figuring our own relationship out.”
I felt his body stiffen. “I’ve already figured our relationship out.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. I understand, Soraya.”
***
Dear Ida,
My boyfriend and I have been together for a little over four months. I love him, and he has told me he loves me, too. My concern is he doesn’t make me feel special, wanted, or desired. He’s never anxious to see me, and I often need to initiate sexual activity. I’ve attempted to speak to him about this, but it hasn’t changed things. Am I being foolish for needing to feel wanted?
-Krista, Jersey City
I kept sorting through the daily mail, putting aside the ones that I thought had potential.
Dear Ida,
My boyfriend, Brad, and I moved in together six months ago. One week after we signed the lease, he lost his job….
Dear Ida,
My husband seems to have lost his sexual desire…
Dear Ida,
I’m dating a man who is thoughtful and caring. The problem is he’s a slob and…
Dear Ida,
I fear I let the love of my life slip through my fingers a few years back. Everyone that I meet pales…
By the time I was done, I wanted to bang my head on the desk. I’d already felt like shit about the way Graham and I left off this morning. Reading about all these relationship problems made me realize how unappreciative I truly was. Here Graham was coming all the way out to Brooklyn to pick me up, putting everything out there by telling me how much he missed me (not to mention delivering a pretty damn spectacular early morning orgasm while taking no physical pleasure for himself), and what did I do? Make him feel like shit. Nice job, Soraya.
The thing was, I wanted him more than I even knew it was possible to want another human being. And that thought scared the living hell out of me. Even more so now that there was a child involved. I sat back in my seat and tried to imagine my life without Graham. It didn’t take long to realize I was screwed. Because I no longer could. It also made me realize I was being one hell of a shitty girlfriend.
Taking a deep breath, I reached for my phone.
Soraya: I’m sorry about this morning. I do want to meet Chloe.
The little dots began jumping immediately. I wondered if he was having trouble concentrating because of the way we left things, too.
Graham: Are you sure?
Soraya: She’s an extension of you, and I want to know all of you.
My phone sat quiet for a few minutes, and I waited impatiently for a response.
Graham: Thank you, Soraya.
Soraya: No. Thank you.
Graham: For this morning?
Soraya: For being the man you are.
I was relatively calm again after that. At least for two more days. Until Saturday when we were on our way to lunch to meet Genevieve and Chloe.
***
“YOU TOLD GENEVIEVE I was coming, right?”
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t object.”
Graham’s jaw flexed, and he didn’t say anything. Then again, he didn’t need to.
“She doesn’t want me here,” I sighed.
“It doesn’t matter what she wants.”
“Of course it does. She’s Chloe’s mother.”
We were riding in the back of Graham’s car, traffic was very light, and we were more than a half hour early for lunch. My nerves were already on edge and this new little piece of information—knowing Genevieve had voiced she didn’t want me there—made my head pound.
“If she had a legitimate concern for the welfare of Chloe, I would have agreed to put off introducing you. But she didn’t, and it’s important to me.” He reached for my hand and squeezed.
“What was her concern then?”
Again, that telling muscle in his jaw flexed. “It’s not important.”
Even though I wanted to know, I left it be. Mostly because we pulled up on 3rd Avenue and Louis interrupted. “60th is closed. Got some kind of a crane in the street, so they have the entire thing blocked off.”
“That’s fine. We’ll get out here,” Graham responded.
After exiting the car, he checked his watch before extending his hand to help me out of the back and didn’t let go after shutting the door behind me. “Do you want to go to the restaurant early?”
“It’s nice out. Why don’t we take a walk around the block?” I figured sitting and waiting would be way more stressful than taking a walk on a beautiful day.
Midway through our stroll, we passed a dance studio, West Side Steps. “Is this where Chloe is?” Genevieve had told Graham that Chloe had just started a new session of dance classes not too far from Serendipity 3.
“I don’t know.” We slowed, but the large glass front window was mirrored so no one could see in. After we passed, a woman’s voice called after us.
“Graham.” Turning back, we found Genevieve holding open the door to the dance studio.
“Genevieve.” Graham nodded. “You remember, Soraya.”
She flashed a practiced megawatt smile. “I do. How nice to see you.”
Sure, it is.
“Class doesn’t end for another twenty minutes. But you can watch through the viewing room. It’s one-way glass so she won’t see you watching her practice.” Graham looked to me, and I nodded.
Inside, the viewing room was filled with parents. Most sitting around and chatting, not even looking through the glass at the class on the other side. Graham hesitantly walked to the window. The room was filled with four- and five-year-old girls wearing ballet tutus. I searched for Chloe amongst the sea of pink. She would have stood out even if she weren’t the most adorable little girl in the room. Her outfit was neon green, where the other girls all wore pastels.
“She refuses to conform and wear what the other girls wear to class. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of it.”
Graham just kept watching the little girl in fascination. “I’m hoping she doesn’t.”
Genevieve’s eyes narrowed on me. She was wearing a cream pants suit with a navy, silk camisole that was feminine, expensive and stylish, but certainly nothing you wouldn’t find on a dozen women in the Upper West Side at any time.
“This is a new class for her. She used to come on Tuesday nights while her father…” She realized what she had said and corrected herself. “While Liam went to the gym across the street. The last session ended a few weeks ago, and I thought it was best to switch to the weekend so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of the old routine.”
Graham nodded.
A pregnant woman came by. “You’re Chloe’s mom, right?”
“Yes.”
The woman’s hands had been folded on top of her enormous belly before she extended one to Genevieve. “I’m Anna’s mom, Catherine. Anna wouldn’t stop talking about Chloe last week after class. I thought maybe we could get
the girls together sometime.”
“Sure. I’m certain Chloe would love that.”
Graham had been riveted to the glass, his eyes following Chloe’s every move, but he turned around to face Catherine.”
The woman smiled. “You must be Chloe’s dad. She’s the spitting image of you, isn’t she?”
Graham froze, staring at Genevieve.
Noncommittal, she introduced him. “Catherine, this is Graham Morgan.”
The woman extended her hand and looked to me since I was now facing her, too. “Are you the nanny?”
That snapped Graham out of it. He wrapped his hand around my waist possessively. “This is Soraya. My girlfriend.”
Graham didn’t notice, but Genevieve caught my eye, and hers sparkled with amusement. Bitch.
We slipped out before the class ended, not wanting Chloe to find us there, and told Genevieve we’d meet her at the restaurant.
Out on the street, the fresh air felt good. I could finally breathe better. “That woman does not like me.”
“She’s jealous of you. She’s always been insecure of her looks.”
“Her? She’s gorgeous.”
Graham stopped on the street. “She’s attractive, of course. But she’s ordinary. Unlike you.” He reached out and held my face with both hands. “You’re extraordinary.”
He was completely serious and the way he looked at me, the doubts that had again risen up inside of me were put to rest.
Chloe literally skipped into Serendipity 3 fifteen minutes later. She hadn’t changed out of her dance outfit, and it was impossible not to smile watching her. After a brief pause where Genevieve pointed to our table, she skipped the rest of the way to where we were seated. Graham stood.
“Chloe,” he nodded and smiled.
“Cracker.” She put all her weight behind her, reached back and slapped her hand into the air for Graham to high five. He was caught off guard, almost missing the hand connection. The exchange was comical. High-fiving was so…not Grahamly.
When he sat back down, I leaned in. “Cracker?”
He whispered back. “As in Graham. Apparently, I have a nickname.”