“I want to talk to her.”
“She’s not ready to talk to you.”
“She needs to get ready because I’m moving back to Colorado.”
I almost dropped my phone. My heart certainly took a plunge. “When?” I breathed out, sick to my stomach.
“Soon. I’m tying up some loose ends here and then I’ll be back. I’m taking a job at Mike Pratt’s auto body shop in Edenvale, so I’ll be close by.”
Good old Mike Pratt. He and Leland were old cronies from our high school days and were both douche bags. At last count, Mike had three baby mamas and didn’t support one of them.
“Chloe and I moved back to Carrington Cove.”
“To live with your parents?” The thought obviously gave him pleasure.
“As a matter of fact, no. I took a position with Taron Taylor.” I used Miles’s pen name on the off-chance Leland recognized his name.
“Who’s that?”
I figured it was a long shot. Leland only read the back of cereal boxes and his own lame songs. “He’s a renowned author and international bestseller.”
“So why did he hire you?”
“I’m going to forget you said that.” If not, I was going to rip into him, and he wasn’t worth the breath.
“You’re so touchy. He must pay well if you can afford to live in Carrington Cove.”
That was none of his business. “When will you and your family get here?”
He paused and paused some more. “It will only be me,” he obviously hated to admit.
That was quick. I wondered what happened to the love of his life, the woman who showed him what real love was. And what about his baby daughter? “Trouble in paradise?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Don’t worry about it. We’re just taking a break.”
Right.
“I want to see Chloe when I get back.”
“I don’t know if she wants to see you.”
“Dammit, Aspen, you can’t keep her from me.”
“I never have. That’s been all you. You left. Not me. So don’t you dare blame me. And if you think you’re coming back just to leave her again, then think again. I will not let you flit in and out of her life, breaking her heart over and over again.”
“I want a relationship with her.”
“Then prove it.”
“I will. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.
I dropped my phone and rubbed my arms only covered in a thin layer of fabric. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I hated that my daughter was paying for my mistakes. She deserved so much better. She deserved a dad like Sawyer, who cried during ultrasounds, or Ryder, who was already working on the nursery, or even Brad, who about threw up every time he changed a diaper, but he did it anyways because he loved Elliott and Jenna. I couldn’t even trust Leland to watch her while I took a shower when she was a baby.
While I tried to compose myself to go in and face my daughter, a light switched on in the main house. I looked up to find Miles standing at the window in the great room looking out, drinking what was probably tea. He had an entire cupboard dedicated to it. Before I could look away, he caught me glancing up and wiping the tears from my cheeks. He cocked his head before he raised his hand and waved.
I ran inside. I didn’t want him to notice me. I certainly didn’t want to notice him.
~*~
The men in my life, past and present, were doing a good job of proving to me why I had sworn them off. Leland started my day off with a text. I’ll be there in two weeks. I expect to see Chloe.
I expected a lot of things from him too, but not once had he delivered. And the thought of having to see him made me unable to eat breakfast. I wasn’t even sure how or if I should tell Chloe about the possibility. Not only did I think there was a high probability of him flaking out, but Chloe truly didn’t want to see him. She felt his abandonment acutely. Each and every broken promise of his shredded her tender heart. I needed to talk to my parents and get their advice. But first I had to get Henry up and then get Chloe to school.
Henry was already beginning to stir when I walked into his room. I loved sleepy little ones. And that smile of his when he saw me had me forgetting about Leland for a moment. I cuddled him for as long as he would let me. It soothed my heart.
After I got Henry dressed, he zipped down the hall, hoping for another dance party with his uncle. This time to Elton John’s “Rocket Man.” I was beginning to see a pattern here—1970s British rockers. Miles thankfully fulfilled Henry’s wish and they danced around together. I hoped Miles would see how much Henry craved his attention, but like yesterday, as soon as the song was over, Miles set him down and went from fun uncle to brooding writer.
I took Henry into my own arms, trying to bite my tongue. Get the lay of the land first, I heard my dad say. It had only been a few days, I reminded myself. It also reminded me of some of the ideas I had come up with for his social media pages. I had stayed up late into the night, unable to sleep after my phone call with Leland, looking up different celebrities to get some ideas. I also read several marketing blogs about branding.
“Would you be amenable to me filming you each morning during your ritual dance and posting it on social media? I think it would be the kind of engaging content your publisher is hoping for. I also have some ideas for some contests we can run.”
Miles gave it some thought. “Brilliant. We’ll start tomorrow. Have a nice day,” he dismissed me and Henry.
Yep, I still didn’t like it.
I didn’t like it even more that every day was the same thing. The only difference was the rest of the week, I used my phone to capture his ritual dance with Henry. It didn’t matter which band, whether it was The Kinks or Queen he sang and danced along to, his fans were eating it up. The shares, comments, and reposts were through the roof. It was a tossup who people found more adorable, Miles or Henry.
I did take note of PWPhotography, whose comments were at the top of every post. That made sense since Miles followed her, and he followed very few people. She left comments like, “Looks like you’re in need of some grown-up time” or “We miss you, darling.” Out of curiosity, I clicked on her profile. I assumed the edgy yet ethereal creature with short, asymmetrical ebony hair and striking violet eyes was the same PW, short for Penelope Williams, who had given Miles the pictures that hung in the hall. I noted the similarities between the photos she posted on Instagram and the ones that Miles had longingly looked at. She had a gift. I wondered how well she and Miles knew each other. Were they lovers, maybe ex-lovers?
What did I care? I was annoyed with him and all the comments about him being the best uncle. I tried not to let them bother me. Maybe he really was. I’d known him all of a week. And I knew he didn’t ask for this responsibility, but he had accepted it. I kept thinking maybe I should say something. Perhaps I should take him up on his invitation to talk to him one night. He seemed frustrated I was always declining. But how would he take some gentle parenting advice? I wasn’t sure.
But on Sunday, when I should have had the day off and he asked me if I could take Henry anyway, I knew that I needed to say something. First, though, I needed to talk to my mommy.
Chapter Twelve
“He’s darling,” Mom commented while we watched Dad play with Chloe and Henry in the backyard after Sunday lunch. They were teaching Henry the fine art of American football. He had already mastered tackling. He giggled every time he got Chloe to fall. She was faking it all for him. Dad had even let the kids pile up on him. He was in heaven. My parents were still holding out hope for more grandchildren.
I curled up tighter in the afghan I had brought out to sit on the porch swing. We were in the throes of Autumn. You could smell the crisp earthiness in the air. “He is sweet.”
Mom patted my leg. “You seem a million miles away today. What’s wrong?”
I sighed. “Leland is moving back.” I kept my voice low.
Mom’s penciled-in brows shot up to her graying hairline. “I take i
t Chloe doesn’t know.” She would have said something to my parents already had she known. She told them everything. Like anytime I swore in front of her, or once, when I accidentally set a hot pad on fire. She even tattled on me when I let her eat ice cream for breakfast. All my finest moments over the years.
“I don’t know how to tell her. He’s not exactly a man of his word.”
Mom’s face pinched enough to highlight all her creases. “Calling him a man is a disservice to his gender,” Mom snarled.
“Agreed, but he’s demanding to see Chloe.”
“Then you demand that he pay you all the child support he owes you.”
“Believe me, I’ll be consulting a lawyer.” Now that I could afford one. “But as far as I can tell from all my online research, I can’t legally prevent him from seeing her.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“What do I do?” I leaned my head on her bony shoulder.
She smoothed my hair. “Tell her the truth. That’s all you can do.”
“What are my other options?” I teased, sort of.
She kissed my head. “That’s a road you don’t want to go down, my love.”
“I know.”
“So, tell me how this new job of yours is going. You’re obviously taken with Henry, and the feeling seems to be mutual.”
I thought back to how Henry sat on my lap during lunch and slathered me with kisses. I watched him and Chloe for a moment. Chloe was gently tossing the ball to him. He kept dropping it, but it didn’t stop him from trying. “He’s pretty much stolen my heart. Chloe’s too.”
“I see that.” I heard the smile in Mom’s voice.
“What about his uncle? Are you getting along?”
I thought about what to say. “When I see him, yes.”
“Don’t you live together?”
“No, Mom. I wouldn’t move Chloe into a strange man’s house.”
“Only right next door.”
“You met some of my neighbors in the apartment building. Miles is a dream compared to them.”
“He’s a dream now, is he?”
I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re twisting my words.”
“You’re touchy today. I think there is a story there. Speaking of stories, I’ve been reading Silent Stones.”
I told her to start with that one. It was my favorite, after all. “What do you think?”
“It’s very well written.”
Cindy Parker was a tough critic, so that was a major compliment.
“But I do find it interesting that his heroine, Isabella, reminds me an awful lot of someone. It’s almost uncanny how much.”
I stared out into the distance, not really focusing on anything other than avoiding Mom’s gaze. I knew who she was talking about.
Mom took my hand. “You have to see it too? It’s like he took every part of you and created her, right down to your golden-brown hair, quiet intelligence, and closed-off nature.”
I whipped my head toward her. “I’m not closed-off.”
Mom squeezed my hand. “You didn’t use to be, and for a chosen few I suppose you’re not, but I think even for us who are closest to you, you hold part of yourself back. Like Isabella, you know you would have to feel again if you opened yourself up. It’s why you avoid men.”
I scowled at her, not liking the direction of this conversation at all. “I avoid men because they’re idiots.”
“See, you’re doing it again. Deep down, you know that’s not true. Granted, you married the biggest idiot of all, but he’s not why you close yourself off. It’s you. You can’t forgive yourself for it.”
Tears stung my eyes. Truth hurt.
Mom wiped a few escaped tears off my cheeks. “Honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just worry that if you keep going down this road you might end up like Isabella, way over your head, alone, and scared.”
“Since Dad isn’t a serial killer, I think I’m safe,” I said dryly.
Mom laughed. “He does know a lot about decomposition and where to bury a body.”
“Mom.”
“I’m kidding. Besides, I don’t think Isabella’s father is the real serial killer.”
“I don’t either.”
“I think her father gets redeemed,” Mom said wisely.
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
Mom tilted her head. “What?”
“It’s just, Miles has some father issues.”
“Care to share?” Mom put out her arm and, like a child, I snuggled into her side and told her everything Miles had shared with me, right down to my own concerns about his ability to be the father Henry needed. Mom listened intently, never interrupting and even when I finished, she took a moment to comment. She rubbed my arm. “Sounds to me like he doesn’t know how to be a father, never having one. And . . .”
“And, what?”
“You know how I feel about single men over thirty-five.”
Yes, I did. She actually wrote a paper—not to get published, just to hand out to the family—highlighting what a threat single men over thirty-five were to society. I think the phrase she used was, “With a growing number of men never maturing beyond adolescence, we will begin to see a decline in stable family environments and more male youth and men incarcerated.”
“But there is an antidote to their foolish, selfish behavior,” she added.
“What’s that?”
“A good woman.”
My head popped up. “You think I need to find Miles a woman?”
“No, silly.” She tapped my nose. “He already has one living with him.”
“I just told you, we won’t be having that type of relationship.”
“I didn’t say you needed to be his lover.” She grinned.
“Don’t use words like lover. Please,” I begged.
“Fine,” she placated me, “call it whatever you want. My point is, you are one of the best mothers I know.”
“I am?” I always worried that my parents were so disappointed in my life choices that they secretly considered me a failure in every aspect of my life.
Mom placed her hands on my cheek. “Oh, honey, you are the best of the best. There is no one better to teach Miles how to be a good parent.”
She had no idea what her compliment meant to me, but . . . “I’m not sure it’s my place. He’s my boss.”
“Hmm.” Mom thought, dropping her hands. “That may be true, but after reading his book, I can’t shake the feeling the two of you meeting was anything but a coincidence.”
I swallowed hard. “He practically said the same thing.”
“It must be like Isabella come to life for him.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“That’s the scared, closed-off you talking. It must be very uncomfortable for you being so close to someone who knows you so well.”
I rubbed my heart. I was having more and more chest pains. I was also squirming inside. Mom was spot-on and I didn’t like it one bit. “She’s a character in a book.”
“Like I said, it’s uncanny how similar you two are. Miles must recognize that. Given that, and the way he so tenderly writes her, I have a feeling he will listen to you. But,” she cautioned, “this will require that you open yourself up to him.”
“Why?” I asked in a panic.
“Honey, you don’t change people by telling them what to do. You have to show them and give them reason to.” She took me in her arms and held me tight. “It might be time to take a chance,” she whispered in my ear. “There’s a little boy counting on you.”
For the rest of the day, I thought about what my mom had said. Especially the part about Henry counting on me. Who else did he have? It didn’t sound like Miles had any sort of real relationship with his father or living siblings, so I wasn’t sure how much of an influence they could or wanted to have in Henry’s life. And Kevin, Henry’s father, had been an only child, and his parents had passed away several years ago.
With all that in mind, I
was determined to at least broach the subject with Miles. So after dinner and doing soccer drills with Chloe in the backyard, which really turned into us trying to teach Henry how to dribble the ball because he didn’t like to be ignored and he had us wrapped around his cute pudgy fingers, I took the little tyke back to the main house for a bath and bed. Henry was so worn out from playing hard all day he quickly drifted asleep halfway through the first bedtime story. It was then I made my nightly trek to Miles’s office. This time, though, I walked a lot slower.
Before I knocked on Miles’s door, I tried to think of some ways to casually bring up how he could do better as Henry’s guardian. Not sure how casual that could be. I inhaled and exhaled, then knocked. The turning of the whiteboard could be heard, then his footsteps. His life was like one big ritual and he was sucking me into it.
He opened the door and like always, he hit me with his warm smile. “Aspen, it’s good to see you.”
I handed him the monitor. “Can I speak to you?” I held my hands behind my back wringing them.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked, hopeful.
“Yes.”
His face brightened. “Splendid. Please take a seat.”
I found myself in front of his desk with him right next to me. This time, though, I think he was even closer than the last time.
“How was your day?” he started off.
“It was nice. We spent most of it with my parents.”
“I hope Henry wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all. My parents were taken with him. He’s a real charmer.”
“He gets that from me.” Miles winked.
I may have believed that if he actually spent real time with Henry.
Miles laughed when I didn’t reply. “You find me arrogant.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe.”
Miles leaned back in his chair. “There is probably some truth there.”
“Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery,” I teased.
My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3) Page 9