She’s dressed and tucked in her bed, and I quickly gather her dirty things in the towel I used to dry her. I dash to my room and change clothes then start another load of laundry before I grab the ibuprofen, saltines, sprite, and a banana.
I’m just guessing over here.
When I make it back to her bedroom, she’s lying on her side, her big eyes hollow and tired. I help her up and give her a dose of children’s ibuprofen for the fever. Then I climb in beside her, cuddling her against my chest.
“Are any of your other friends feeling bad today?”
“Bunny wasn’t at school.” Her voice is slow and weak. “Louie said she has a bug. I thought he made her eat dirt when I wasn’t around. She lives by his house.”
“I think Louie meant she had a virus. Some people call viruses bugs. I don’t know why.”
Lillie sniffs and scrubs her face on my shirt.
“I was thinking about the ketchups today,” I start. She makes a little noise and tucks her head closer to me, hiding her eyes. “They make these things called stress balls. You squeeze them when you feel stressed out, and it’s supposed to make you feel better. It might be a great alternative to those packets. What do you think? Want me to get you one?”
She’s quiet a minute. “What’s stress?”
“It’s bad feelings you get when you can’t control things. Or maybe too many things are happening at the same time, and you feel overwhelmed.”
Again she’s quiet, thinking. “I don’t like to feel stress.”
“Nobody does. It’s like those dolls with the beady eyes. They always stress me out.” I exaggerate my tone, hoping to cheer her up.
“Or Veggie Tales.”
“Yeah…” I’m encouraged she’s playing along. The ibuprofen must be working. “Or Thomas the Tank Engine. Talk about beady eyes!”
She starts to giggle. “Or Gigi’s clock when it says ten.”
I confess, I’m stumped by that one. “What happens when it says ten?”
“It has all those eyes.”
Ah… it’s a digital clock. Interesting. “You have a vivid imagination, Lil. I’ll be sure and never get you an American Girl doll.”
She snorts and I turn on the television, finding a princess movie on Netflix. Halfway through, she’s getting droopy. She wraps a little arm around my waist and yawns. “I wish I had eyes like you. I think you’re beautiful.”
Leaning down, I kiss her button nose. “I think you’re beautiful. Sleep now angel.”
She’s asleep curled against my side, and I’m watching the second half of Mulan when a soft tapping sounds on the door. I look up to see Remi peeking his head in. His expression is worried or maybe anxious.
“How’s she doing?”
“Her fever broke. I think it’s just a twenty-four-hour virus.” He nods, and I have an idea. “Do you happen to have an extra stress ball?”
Those dark brows furrow over his pretty eyes, and inwardly I sigh. He’s so handsome.
“I might. Why?”
“I think the reason she likes to play with ketchup packets is the same reason you like squeezing a stress ball. It’s soothing.”
He exhales, dropping his chin. “She scared the shit out of me this morning. This whole day has been just one hit after another.”
“Tell me about it.” I look down at the little angel holding my waist. Her face is so peaceful.
My eyes are still on her when Remi touches my shoulder. Our eyes meet, and his are anguished. “Don’t go, Ruby…” It’s a tortured whisper, and my heart jumps in my chest. “She needs you.”
Then it fizzles right back down again.
She needs me.
Say you need me, Remi… You.
Say you’ll make me yours…
I swallow that emotion away. “Not living here doesn’t mean I won’t see her anymore.”
His brow furrows, and he scrubs his eyes with his fingertips. “Will you at least stay on as her nanny until I can find a replacement?”
The idea of being replaced should not offend me. “What’s wrong with Eleanor?”
She started this whole thing, after all.
“I don’t want her involved. I don’t like how she treated you. I don’t like how she treated either of us.”
Lifting my chin, I give him a nod. “I’ll help with Lillie until you find someone.”
“Thanks.” His expression is dark and he stands slowly, leaning down to kiss his daughter before he leaves.
He pauses on the way up, hovering with his lips just over mine. My heart beats painfully hard in my chest. I hold my breath until he stands completely. Without another word, he goes to the door and leaves us.
I lean back on the pillows as the tears streak down my cheeks.
30
Remi
It’s a punch in the chest to see Ruby holding my daughter so sweetly, taking care of her when she’s sick, making her laugh and slowly helping her regain her strength.
I might not be sure of her feelings for me, but I know she loves Lillie.
It takes her less than half an hour to clear her things out of her room. My daughter follows her whining the whole time, but Ruby assures her repeatedly she’s not far away. She’ll be back every day to drive her to school and to spend the afternoons.
My daughter’s tears are like salt in my already bleeding insides. Everything about this is wrong, but short of tying Ruby up with ropes, I don’t know how to make her stay.
Before she walks out, I put my hand on her shoulder. “I took out the extra cash for New York.” I give her the business envelope, and she looks at it a few moments. “You did the work as Lillie’s nanny. You deserve to be paid.”
Her lips press together and she nods, taking the envelope from me. “I’ll be here Monday morning to take her to preschool.”
“I can take her in the mornings. What if you pick her up and stay with her during the afternoons until dinner?”
She lifts her chin and our eyes meet. Our chemistry is still alive, but it’s tantalizing pain, like the promise of something I desperately want held just out of reach.
“I’m doing half the work. You should adjust my pay to reflect that.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable.”
It’s our last exchange before she’s gone. I scoop up my daughter, and she lays her head on my shoulder, squeezing the striped stress ball I found in one of my drawers.
“Feeling stressed-out, peanut?”
“Why did Ruby have to go?”
“She felt like it would be better for all of us if she didn’t live here anymore.”
Lillie lifts her head and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t think it’s better for me if she’s not here anymore. Do you think it’s better?”
“No, princess. I don’t think it’s better at all.”
My daughter wiggles to get down, and I set her on her feet. She walks slowly with her little shoulders slumped to the patio, and I climb the flight of stairs to my office with the same posture. This big ole house feels too huge, too empty now.
Eleanor left on Friday. I would feel guilty about it, but she moved quickly into the condo I secured for her. I almost feel like she expected it. Or she welcomed it. I don’t really care.
I’ve communicated briefly with her on her requests to see Lillie. I’m furious at her, but I don’t want to hurt my daughter. So far, I agreed she can pick Lillie up for church tomorrow morning. I don’t feel much like attending.
Standing in front of my computer I see unread emails from Stellan. A few more emails wait from Stephen and a rising entrepreneur he thinks I should meet. I hover my mouse over them and think about work and why I’m doing all of this.
All these feelings and things I want to say to Ruby churn in my stomach. It all came to a head this past week.
She’s not interested in my money. She’s not interested in what I can give her. She likes me for me, and we have so much fun together. She makes me feel alive. I feel like I can trust her—not to mention how
much I love seeing her with my daughter.
Picking up my phone, I tap the face of my old friend.
“Hastings here.” He speaks through an exhale.
“I have a situation and I need a sounding board.”
“Something happen with Stellan?” A tone enters his voice. “That kid was totally onboard the last time I talked to him. If you did something to piss him off—”
“It’s not about Stellan. It’s… personal.”
“I don’t do personal.”
“You’ll do it for me. I’m pissed and I’m tired and I feel fucking powerless.”
“You are never powerless. If something appears out of your control, you need to step back and reframe the situation.” He speaks like some old guru. “Unless it’s a woman. Then you’re probably powerless.”
“Ruby left me.”
He’s quiet a beat. “And?”
“That’s it. She packed up all her things and moved out this morning. Just like that.” I’m pacing my office, snatching up a stress ball and squeezing the shit out of it.
“Did she say why?”
“Some bitches at the preschool made a crack about her attending the gala with me. It made her feel like I was paying her… for her time.”
Stephen doesn’t need to know everything.
“You were paying her for her time. Her time spent with your daughter.”
The distinction makes me cringe. I played right into their stupid accusations putting the extra cash in with her check. I thought I was being generous. Now I realize how it made her feel.
He makes an impatient growl. “Do you care about this woman or not?”
It’s such a straightforward question. I step back, walking to the balcony, looking down over the patio where she spent so many afternoons with Lillie. Every day, I’d step outside and watch them paint or work in the garden or sing songs or just blow bubbles. It soothed my soul to know she was there. It was like a part of me that was missing had been found.
“Yes.” It’s so easy. “It didn’t matter. I asked her to stay, and she still left.”
“Did you tell her you wanted her to stay?”
Now I make the impatient growl. “It’s the same thing. I asked her to stay.”
“It is not the same thing, and I’m sure you framed it as being for Lillie.”
“Of course, I mentioned Lillie.” Remorse flashes in my neck. How could she not understand how much I wanted her to stay?
A long sigh fills my ear. “If you want her to stay, tell her. If you care about her, ask her on a date, propose to her. Marry the girl. Whatever is in your heart. Just stop making it harder than it is.”
“That’s what she said.”
“What?”
I can’t help it. It’s so easy.
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“Damn straight you do. Now go fucking get her and stop wasting my time.”
“Fuck off. I have a woman to claim.”
He chuckles and we disconnect the phone. I’m a problem-solver. Why didn’t I figure this out before now? Rubbing my chin, I’m stumped. What do I do with Lillie?
31
Ruby
Drew sits beside me on the bed rubbing my back.
After unpacking all my things last night, I opened a bottle of wine, drank most of it, then crawled beneath my covers and fell asleep. I opened my eyes a few times once the sun came up, but all I want to do is stay under the covers and cry.
“He tried to pay me extra for New York. In cash.” I sniff, my chest squeezing with the ache of a broken heart.
“He didn’t say it meant more to him?” Drew is wearing church clothes, leaning against my headboard while I stay under the covers.
“He didn’t say anything,” I wail.
“Men are bastards.” She shoves a tissue under the blanket, and I take it to blow my nose. “Not you, honey.”
The way she says it makes me crawl a little higher and peep out. I see Grayson leaning against the doorjamb looking down. His hand is in his pocket, and he looks like something out of a men’s magazine.
“I didn’t know Gray was here.”
“We came straight over from church. Your mom was worried about you when you didn’t show up today.”
“I couldn’t sit in church with those bitches.” I sit up, wrapping my comforter around my shoulders. “They pretty much flat out called me a hooker.”
“Don’t even think about those women.” Drew pulls me into a hug. “You’re going to come work for me now.”
Shaking my head, I blow my nose again. “I can’t go back to the clinic. I feel like such a failure. I was supposed to be getting financially independent. I was supposed to be finding out who I am. Instead I fell in love with him.” More tears fill my eyes. “I’m such an idiot.”
“To be fair, you were kind of already into him when you took the job.” She reaches for the box of Puffs and hands me another one.
“You’re always so logical.” My nose makes a loud honk when I blow it. “It’s why you’re a better therapist than me.”
“I thought you said being a good therapist made me a doormat.” Her blue eyes narrow, and my stomach plunges like a rock.
“I was so wrong to say that. I take it back. You’re the best friend a person could ever have. I’m so lucky to have you.” I throw my arms around her shoulders, and when she hugs me back, I start to cry again.
“Okay, we’re getting out of the house now. Come on.” She grabs my arms and drags me to the side of the bed.
“I can’t go out looking like this.”
“Then let’s head to the showers.”
She’s holding my arm, and I let her drag me out of bed, past the longsuffering Gray. “I have beer in the fridge if you want one. I bought all the alcohol so I could get good and drunk last night.”
“Is this what you were drinking?” He holds up a mostly full bottle of red wine.
I frown, looking around my bedroom. “Is that all I drank?”
He starts to chuckle. “Take it easy, lightweight.”
Pushing off the door, he goes into the kitchen. I follow Drew into my bathroom.
The rental house is actually pretty cute. It’s a perfect square with the bedroom and dining area separated by a full bathroom. The living room is adjacent to my bedroom and the kitchen is attached to it. It has nice flow and an open floor plan.
It’s just so lonely.
“It’s so quiet here at night.” Drew’s in the bathroom with me, and I sit on the closed toilet watching as she turns on the shower, testing the temperature through the curtain. “I miss people. I’m not used to living alone.”
“You’ve been in this house less than twenty-four hours. How do you even know?”
“I should get a pet. A puppy… Lillie would love that! I’ll take her with me to get one tomorrow.”
Drew steps back and takes my hand. “Get up. The water’s ready. I’m going to send Gray home. Can you give me a ride?”
“Sure.” I nod, stepping into the warm spray.
I’m showered, lightly made up, and my hair’s brushed as we walk through the craft store.
“First, we can get started fixing up your little house. What color should we paint it?”
“You can’t paint anything. You’re pregnant.” I’m pushing a cart past stretched canvases and acrylics.
It sends my mind traveling back a month ago to something I read on the Internet. “Since I already have my master’s and my license, I only need a few classes to add Art Therapy to my list of services.”
Drew stops in the aisle. “Could you do it in a group setting?”
“I don’t see why not.” I pull two canvases off the rack and put them in my cart. Next I pick up a few different tubes of maroon paint, holding them together in the light.
I select the darker one, then I take a white, brown, and navy tube from the bin. “In the meantime, I want to start painting again. I have something in mind.”
“See?” Drew is right beside me, gi
ving me a squeeze. “You just needed to get out of that bed and start moving around. You already know who you are and what you want. It’s just about doing it.”
Nodding, I steer the cart to the checkout area. I still feel like a heavy weight is sitting on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“I’ll see about getting registered for those courses tonight.”
Drew and I also swing by the grocery store, we check in with my mother, and it’s late when I’m alone again in my little house. I’m standing in front of the stove in my sweats and a cropped sweatshirt with my hair in a high ponytail.
I imagine I look like Barbie’s Asian best friend Midge, confused in front of the stove because she doesn’t know how to cook.
If only I had Barbie money.
And Barbie perks.
“Then I’d have a chef.” I hold my phone reading the recipe for Black Bean Breakfast Bowl.
It sounds simple enough. A can of black beans, scrambled eggs, avocado slices, and salsa. How hard can that be? Hell, even Eleanor might approve of this dinner.
Setting my phone down, I crack the first egg imitating Tessa’s voice. “Free range chicken eggs and organic black beans.” Picking up the can, I don’t see organic anywhere on the Bush’s label. “Oh, well, Jake. I guess we’ll have to hope for the best with these avocados.”
As I drain the beans, my mind drifts to those dinners, Remi sitting across the table in his blazer and tee. He was always so handsome, so refined. Lillie usually said something funny about the meal or had some silly story from preschool. Pain twists in my stomach as I think about how much I miss them.
My eyes are misty, and I’m cracking Egg 2 when a rapid knock on my door makes me squeal and toss it across the counter. It falls with a splat on the floor, and I spin, putting my back to the counter and scanning the kitchen quickly for anything I can use as a weapon.
I snatch a carving knife out of the drawer. Ma gave it to me because it needs sharpening, but that doesn’t stop it from looking scary.
Tiptoeing to the front door, my heart is beating out of my chest. Why am I so freaked out by someone knocking on my door at night? I’m in freakin’ Oakville. Nothing ever happens here. This is what happens when I watch serial killer documentaries on Netflix.
Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection Page 84