Nivea gulped and frowned in disappointment. She was braced to hear an appeal for something extremely kinky and was caught off-guard by his request for something as life-threatening as jumping out of a freaking airplane. “Oh, Malcolm, I don’t know about that.”
“Think about it. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“But before you respond, I want you to come out and watch me in action.”
“Sure,” she said halfheartedly. The thought of free falling through the sky was terrifying and made her nauseous. She hated giving Malcolm false hope, but it would be a snowy day in hell before she would even consider skydiving. She’d had such a negative response to Malcolm when they’d first met; it was surprising that they got along so well. After the way they’d started off, fucking in the hot tub without knowing each other’s names, it was surprising they weren’t strictly fuck buddies. Amazingly, they were so much more than that. When they weren’t out on a date or spending time at his apartment (she hadn’t invited him to her place or introduced him to Mackenzie yet; it seemed too soon for that), they had lengthy phone conversations. She confided a lot about herself, excluding her nervous breakdown and the fact that she didn’t know who her daughter’s father was. She didn’t see the point in divulging unpleasant details of her past. For now, she wanted to live in the moment and continue having fun with Malcolm.
They were in a wonderful space right now—two people enjoying each other’s company and having a good time.
As hot as he was, Malcolm wasn’t conceited in the least and he wasn’t the player she’d imagined him to be. She’d had him all wrong. So far, he seemed to be a good guy—kind, considerate, funny, and fun-loving.
It was a shame she didn’t have anyone to talk to about her newfound happiness. Whenever she reached out to Vangie, she was given the brush-off. She supposed Vangie held a grudge over Nivea’s friendship with Harlow.
Meanwhile, Harlow had pulled a disappearing act and wasn’t answering her phone at all. Nivea wanted to talk about Malcolm to someone so badly; she was on the verge of calling her mother, of all people.
Since reconnecting with Nivea, Denise Westcott had started phoning her regularly; checking on Mackenzie and asking Nivea to put the baby on the phone so she could listen to her gurgle and coo. Although Nivea and her mother were working on their fractured relationship, it was too soon to talk to Denise about the new man in her life. Knowing Denise, she’d find a way to put a damper on Nivea’s happiness, find some major flaw in Malcolm, and Nivea wasn’t ready to have her bubble burst quite yet.
She would be returning to her job soon and wondered if her lack of availability would have an effect on her relationship with Malcolm. Relationship? Realistically, she and Malcolm were only dating, and it probably was too soon to think of them in “couple” terms.
She wondered how Malcolm viewed their connection. No, she didn’t want to go there. The only thing that mattered was that he made her happy. As far as Nivea was concerned, they could go on exactly as they were for the next twenty years and she wouldn’t have any reason to complain.
They left Bleu Martini, and went back to Malcolm’s place. In bed with her honey, making love, Nivea was engaging in her own version of skydiving as she skittered to the edge of ecstasy and then free fell over the abyss, screaming out Malcolm’s name all the way down.
Thanks to Odette’s flexible schedule, she was able to spend the night at Malcolm’s, but by morning, she was anxious to get home to Mackenzie. I miss my little Kenzie-Ken, Nivea thought as she ran a red light. I’d better slow down before I get pulled over.
To ensure that she didn’t exceed the speed limit, she forced herself to stop yearning for Mackenzie. Switching her thoughts to Malcolm relaxed her enough that she no longer felt compelled to shoot through red lights.
Home at last! She pulled into her designated slot and noticed a car pulling up beside her. Without bothering to look at the driver, she got out, armed her car and began to trot toward her townhouse.
“Nivea!” Someone got out of a dark-colored sedan, calling her name.
She slowed her stride and squinted at the man who’d emerged from the car.
It took a few moments for her to recognize Dr. Sandburg. She was accustomed to seeing him in his office—not outside her home. Furthermore, she’d only seen him wearing a lab jacket over his clothes, and today he was dressed in sports attire.
“We need to talk,” he said. “I’m on my way to play golf and I won’t take up much of your time.”
Nivea looked him up and down sneeringly. He looked dumpy and unsightly in golfing shorts that revealed saggy kneecaps and veiny, pale legs. Dr. Sandburg had never been easy on the eyes, but today he looked worse than ever. Since her visit to his office, he’d started growing a beard that was gray and grizzled. Adding to his unsightly appearance, tufts of hair stuck out of the sides of his ball cap, and wiry, gray chest hair sprouted out at the top of his shirt. Ugh. She had to have been out of her mind when she fucked him.
Scrutinizing him further, Nivea noticed Dr. Sandburg’s bad posture. He seemed a little stooped around the shoulders—like he had a bad back. His golf game probably sucked.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked with a mixture of suspicion and impatience.
“I want to talk about my daughter.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Hearing the old doctor referring to Mackenzie as his daughter was appalling, and Nivea visibly cringed. “Excuse me?”
“The DNA results came back…” He trailed off, waiting for his words to sink in.
“And?”
“It’s been proven that I’m the father.”
Nivea winced. The gray-haired oldster looked more like Mackenzie’s great-grandfather than her father. “You’re sterile, remember, so how could you possibly be my daughter’s father?”
“Apparently, I’m not sterile. It appears I’m quite virile.” His prideful smile made her want to punch him. “I brought the results.” He hustled over to his car and retrieved an envelope from under the visor.
Nivea’s hand shook slightly as she opened the envelope. The paternity test proved that Dr. Sandburg was Mackenzie’s biological father. Nivea looked at him and cringed.
“So, what do you want?”
“I want to see my daughter. Make up for lost time and establish a relationship with her.”
“That’s not a good idea. Your wife made it clear she doesn’t want word getting out about your adulterous behavior. She doesn’t want Mackenzie in your lives, and that’s fine with me.” Nivea gave a shrug as if to say: What can I tell you? It’s out of our hands.
He shook his head mournfully. “Rachel was upset about the results of the paternity test, and we’ve separated. She wants a divorce.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Nivea tensed up, sensing big trouble on the horizon. Her generous child support was funded with Rachel’s money. It wasn’t likely that Rachel would want to support a child after she divorced its father. Nivea gulped in fear, and then reminded herself that they had a binding contract. Whether she liked it or not, Rachel had to pay!
“I want visitation rights,” the doctor blurted.
Her breath escaped in a long sigh. “Are you nuts? You can’t suddenly pop into my child’s life. She’s not comfortable around strangers. No offense, but with that scraggly beard and all, you’ll terrify her.”
“It may take time, but she’ll get used to me—I’m her dad,” he said with a crooked smile, appearing to be pleasantly awed by the whole idea of fatherhood.
“Look, I’ve abided by your wife’s wishes. I’ve signed a lot of paperwork, giving you guys the anonymity you requested. Now, you need to return the gesture, and leave my daughter and me alone.”
“She’s my daughter, too, and it’s important that I participate in her life.”
“Why the change of heart? When I brought her to your office, you didn’t as much as glance at her.”
“I was shocke
d, and I didn’t believe she was mine. Now that I know the truth, I want to co-parent. I want to be the best dad that I can.”
“I need time to absorb all this. I’ll give you a call in a few days.”
“Why can’t I see her now? I won’t stay long. Can’t I have a quick peek?” Dr. Sandburg said in a rush of hopeful words.
“Absolutely not,” she said in a harsher tone than she’d intended. Shaping her mouth into a smile that felt garish and fake, she tried to soften the blow. “You can’t pop up on us like this.” She waved her hand around, gesturing anxiously. “Your visit would have to be planned, you know, like, weeks in advance.”
“Weeks?” Dr. Sandburg’s cheeks puffed up, his eyes widened in incredulity. He pointed a finger at Nivea. “I have as much right as you do to spend time with our daughter. The next time you hear from me, it’ll be through my attorney.” He stalked over to his car, got in, and slammed the door with a resounding thud. As upset as he seemed, Nivea expected him to shoot out of the parking space in the heat of anger, but he slowly backed out, cautiously looking over his shoulder like a nervous elderly driver.
She wondered how old Dr. Sandburg was. He was definitely older than her parents—probably in his mid to late fifties. Maybe early sixties. Oh, God, she had to have been off her rocker, having unprotected sex with that doddering old man. It was unfair to Mackenzie that her biological father might be living in a retirement home, eating Jell-O and drooling before she reached her teens.
Inside her home, Nivea hurried to Mackenzie’s bedroom.
Odette frowned and clicked her tongue. “I just put her to sleep. Why you wanna go and wake her up?” she asked in her thick accent.
Ignoring Odette, Nivea went to Mackenzie’s room and lifted her from the crib. Hugging and kissing her, she held her daughter close. “Hey, Kenzie. Hey, girl!” Nivea gushed, trying to get her daughter to wake up and interact. Mackenzie’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked at her mother, cracked a tiny smile, and then dozed off again.
Worrying about Dr. Sandburg’s request to co-parent, Nivea clutched the sleeping child to her bosom, and paced the floor with her. He was trying to force himself into their lives, and Nivea wasn’t happy about it. She hardly knew him. Sure, they’d had that sexual encounter in his office back when she was on the brink of mental collapse, but in all actuality, she hardly knew the man at all. She couldn’t bring herself to think of him as Mackenzie’s father, and she wanted him to stick to the deal they’d agreed upon and stay out of her daughter’s life.
HARLOW
Drake had yet to explain where he’d taken the money. Whatever he did with it, couldn’t possibly be legal. Only a person involved in unlawful activities would pack a briefcase with a large sum of cash and take off in the middle of the night.
He wasn’t being forthright with her, and so Harlow didn’t divulge her secret, either. She didn’t enjoy being spiteful, but she had no desire to share such joyous news with someone whom she apparently didn’t know very well. Did Drake actually want a baby, or had he been mouthing words he thought she wanted to hear? She pondered his possible reactions and could picture his face breaking into a forced smile, which was something she didn’t want to see. Nor did she want to observe his brows knit together in displeasure. There was no way Drake would be genuinely happy about the pregnancy—not with their marriage in shambles.
Harlow had been sleeping in the guest bedroom for the past week. Trying to make a statement. Trying to make Drake realize if he wanted to save their marriage, he’d have to come clean. But he seemed so distant and preoccupied, it was as if he hadn’t even noticed her absence.
Morning sunshine poured into the living room, filling it with an almost ethereal glow. Carrying a cup of tea, Harlow sat in her favorite chair, facing the park. She took a sip, set the cup down, and let out a sigh. The stunning view and the glorious sunshine were not cheering her up. Slumped over, she placed her head in her hands. This pregnancy was supposed to be the happiest time of her life, but she couldn’t imagine being more forlorn than she was right now. Feeling this depressed and agitated couldn’t be good for the baby.
Oh, Drake, what is going on?
She’d made excuses for Drake in the past, but now it was time to pull her head out of the sand and face the fact that her husband was a liar and some sort of criminal. A month ago, it would have been inconceivable that she could end up being a single parent, but today it seemed completely plausible.
She had to make a decision about her marriage—stay and pretend that everything was okay or face the facts that the marriage was over and that it was time to start packing her bags. But she felt stuck, marooned in the chair and unable to get up and get going.
Gazing at the beautiful view, she smiled wryly. She’d always thought if her marriage to Drake ended, life wouldn’t be worth living. That she’d be suicidal. Or at the least, she’d have a nervous breakdown. But here she was, emotionally stable and possessing a strong desire to live. Not only for herself but also for her unborn child. Gathering strength from an unknown source, she pushed herself up from the chair and padded out of the living room.
Out of common courtesy, she left Drake a note:
Drake,
This isn’t working. I don’t know what you’re into, but whatever it is, it couldn’t be good. Or legal. I’ve decided it’s best for us to separate. You should feel relieved that you no longer have to worry about me walking in on another mysterious money transfer. I’ll be staying at a hotel for the time being and plan to contact a divorce attorney in a day or so.
Harlow
A great sense of calm washed over her the moment she left the apartment. Forty minutes later, she checked into a hotel, and stretched out on the bed. She thought about the responsibility of being a single parent, and though it wouldn’t be easy, she’d put everything she had into being the perfect mother.
She spent most of the afternoon researching divorce attorneys online. It would have been helpful if she had an older and wiser friend who could advise her, but she didn’t. She thought about calling Vangie and making up. Perhaps they could go over the list of attorneys together, but Harlow quickly changed her mind. Though Vangie had spoken the truth about Drake’s dirty business dealings, it wasn’t as if she’d verbalized her feelings with Harlow’s best interest at heart. When she bad-mouthed Drake, she was being mean and spiteful.
And Nivea. Well, Niv would always be pretentious and self-serving. Harlow realized Nivea was only interested in getting closer to her in order to elevate her social status. Harlow’s only other female friends were the wives of Drake’s business associates, and she couldn’t expect her husband’s allies to assist her in a divorce battle.
The unexpected blare of the hotel phone caused her to jump in alarm. Collecting herself, she picked up, expecting to hear the courteous voice of the concierge on the other end of the phone.
But to her surprise, Drake was on the phone.
“I’m downstairs in the lobby. Would you come down? We need to talk and try to work things out.”
“You’ve been ignoring me and refusing to answer my questions about that hidden money, so what else is there to talk about, Drake?”
He was quiet for a few beats and then said, “We need to talk about our baby.”
Harlow’s heart dropped and her voice came out shaky. “How did you find out?”
“There was a voicemail on the home phone. From a doctor’s office. Said you left the office without making a follow-up appointment for prenatal care.”
Harlow felt so stupid. When she’d visited the first obstetrician when she was too ashamed to visit her own doctor, she’d given her contact information, never dreaming the day would come when she would feel the need to hide her pregnancy from her husband.
“When were you going to tell me?” Drake asked.
“I don’t know. Eventually.”
“Eventually? Like when my kid was three years old? You’re not right, Harlow. First, I get hit with your goodbye letter
; then I find out not only have I lost my wife, but she’s trying to take my child away from me, too.”
“Under the circumstances, I didn’t have a choice.”
“Can you come downstairs so we can talk, face to face? I promise, I’ll explain everything.”
Yeah, right. You’ll explain with more lies. “I’ll be down in a few.”
Drake sent a sad smile Harlow’s way when she stepped out of the elevator. He paced swiftly in her direction. “You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thanks.” It was odd that he was offering compliments now that she’d left him, but didn’t even notice her while they were living under the same roof.
“I need a drink,” he said, ushering Harlow to a lounge in the hotel.
When the waiter came to their table, Drake ordered cognac for himself and red wine for Harlow.
Harlow shook her head at the waiter. “No wine for me; I’ll have water with a lemon wedge.”
Drake smiled. “I forgot, you can’t drink while you’re pregnant. You’re carrying my child; that’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.” He reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers. “You’ve made me so happy, Harlow.”
“I wish I could say the same, but I’d be lying. I mean, I’m thrilled that I’m going to be a mother, but our situation…” She paused and shook her head. “Our situation breaks my heart.”
“I know, and it’s my fault, baby. It’s all my fault. There’re things about me—about the business—that I’ve kept from you,” Drake confessed.
Harlow held herself erect and fastened her eyes on his. “I’m listening.”
“Something happened the day you saw me getting money out of the safe—”
“The safe that I didn’t even know existed,” she reminded. “Are there any other hidden objects in our apartment that I don’t know about?”
“No, that’s it.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
He held up his hands. “Honestly, that’s it.”
“I can’t believe you kept something like that from me.”
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