by Paige Cooper
He didn’t know the half of it. I couldn’t get Nicole off my mind, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
I brought my whiskey to my lips and took a large glug. I needed to find a way to work with her without thinking about her naked.
Or maybe I simply needed to get her naked.
Gleefully, I sipped my whiskey as I pictured the look on John’s face when he realized his plan hadn’t worked. It was a small comfort, but one I appreciated nonetheless because tomorrow, I’d have to be around Nicole again, and I didn’t know how to breathe when she was nearby.
Chapter 9: Nicole
I n the space of an hour, it felt like I’d held in a million sighs.
“Yes, Dad, I have a new job as a legal secretary at the Allen Brother’s Legal firm,” I said for the third time in a row.
I busied myself in the kitchen, making dinner for the two of us. I’d already let Maryann go for the day, and I enjoyed these evenings with my dad—even if they could become a little tiresome.
Normally, I spent four nights of the week with my dad. The other three, Maryann would stay over. I needed to keep my own apartment for my sanity. Plus, it was rent-controlled, which meant that if I gave it up, I lost the amazing price tag along with it. It was hard to find such a nice apartment with rent control in Manhattan.
Tonight was a Dad night. I made his favorite for dinner, homemade mac and cheese with bacon sprinkled on top. It didn’t matter what state of mind he was in; it always seemed to bring him back to the present. That, and the first dance song they’d played at his wedding to my mom.
My heart stalled for a moment as I thought of her. She’d died ten years ago, and sometimes, it still hurt a little bit when I thought about it. Mostly, though, I carried the good memories. So did Dad. He was good at helping me remember the good things.
I turned to watch him as I stirred the pot of cheese sauce. What was I going to do when he couldn’t remember her anymore? I supposed it would be my turn to help him remember all the good bits.
Dad sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. Last year for Christmas, I’d bought him an iPad and showed him how to access all the latest news stories, but he still preferred the old paper. It was probably best we didn’t overwhelm him with all sorts of new things now, anyway.
The day the doctor gave us the diagnosis, it felt like my heart dropped straight out of my body. It was weird sometimes to look at my dad and see him for who he was and realize that one day I would wake up, and my dad would be a different person.
He had early-onset dementia, and while it hadn’t hit full force yet, it certainly made its presence known. First, it seemed like it distorted his edges, attacked small parts of his brain and memory, leaving grief in its wake. He got angry and confused when he forgot something, and it was worse if anyone pointed it out. I found it was easier to repeat myself, easier to act as if something was being said for the first time, than to rile him up.
“I don’t know why I have to have Maryann,” he said suddenly, off-track from the previous conversation.
“She’s your nurse. She helps you with the little stuff, Dad,” I sighed outwardly now. We’d already had this debate a million times. He wasn’t going to win it.
“I don’t need a nurse. I can take care of myself.” He slammed his fist on the table, a grimace on his face.
“Frank Reed, don’t you dare act like a child around your own children.” I turned away from the macaroni and cheese, eyeing him with the same look he’d given me when I was younger.
“That’s not fair. You can’t use my own tricks on me.” A grin broke through on his face, and he leaned back in his chair.
“You were the first man to teach me not to take any crap from anyone, not even my good old dad.” I flashed him a smile back, pleased to see that at least for now, he had all his sharp edges.
I finished mixing the macaroni and the cheese sauce together before popping it into the oven for twenty minutes. It was one of the few dishes I knew how to make really well. Ask me to fry an egg, though, and I might burn down the whole kitchen.
“She put my keys in the fridge today. Did I tell you that?” Frank said, talking about Maryann. I nodded my head even though I knew it was more likely that he had put the keys in the fridge.
He didn’t drive anymore—not after we found him wandering around the supermarket in his bathrobe with one shoe on. The manager knew me, luckily, and called me. So, we had sold his car and used the funds to pay for Maryann. Now, I did all his shopping for him, and between Maryann and I, we took him anywhere he needed or wanted to go.
Sometimes, Dad understood why we had to do all this, especially after he’s had a bad day, but most of the time, he begrudged us for doing it.
“Mark Allen is the most annoying and obnoxious man I’ve ever met. What’s my luck that I would get stuck with him?” I asked, shifting the subject away from his forgetfulness and into safer territory.
“You should be going to law school. That way, you wouldn’t have to work for these douchebags,” he said gruffly, telling me the same thing he’d been saying for the last five years.
“I don’t want to be a lawyer, Dad,” I said gently, pulling out the mac and cheese and serving it up. I set a plate of food in front of him.
“You could have your own secretary then. I don’t get why you don’t. You wouldn’t be fetching coffee for any old schmuck if you did.”
“I enjoy coming home and letting go of work, instead of having it follow me home. Lawyers never really get time off.” I chewed thoughtfully on my mac and cheese.
We had this discussion at least once a week. He always forgot, and I always needed to gently remind him. I wasn’t a person who cared about accolades and recognition. I enjoyed having a job that paid my bills and let me live my life. I certainly didn’t live to work like a certain obnoxious boss I knew.
We sat in silence while we ate. Mac and cheese was one of the few meals that also came with the amazing side effect of stunning my dad into silence while he ate.
He loved it. I, on the other hand, was too busy brooding about my handsome and mean boss. I knew there was more to him, but for some reason, he felt the need to be a giant jerk to everyone in his life.
“Leave the dishes for me. I’ll do them later,” he called out as I began to clear the table. I’d eaten half of my food, losing my appetite the more I thought about Mark.
“No, I’ll do them now. Why don’t you go watch some TV in the other room?” I suggested, putting the leftovers in the fridge and writing a few instructions for Maryann. She would be by in the morning, but I had to be at work before she would get here.
“I can do my own damn dishes,” Frank grumbled, pushing his way past me and to the sink.
“Dad, you always wanted me to do my chores when I was younger. Why can’t I do them now?” I asked with as much patience as I could muster.
This was a good day. I needed to keep reminding myself of that. In a few months, these would be few and far between.
It worried me how quickly the disease had already progressed. He was only in his fifties, and over the last three months, he’d steadily gotten worse.
So far, a bad day meant he forgot me for a few minutes. Last week I’d come in, and he’d thought I was my mother.
The doctor said the best thing to do was play along. Confusing someone with dementia would only make them agitated and potentially aggressive. It was hard, though.
I wanted to fold into his arms and have him shield me from this disease, but for the first time in our lives, we found ourselves in a new dynamic. I was the one shielding him from the reality of his dementia.
He gave up trying to fight me on the dishes, and half an hour later, I found him snoring away in front of the television. A wry smile crossed my lips. Now, this felt like good old times.
“Dad,” I said softly as I turned off the television. He snored over me, and I poked him gently with my finger.
“How many times do I have to tell you not
to poke me when I’m sleeping?” he growled, his eyes still shut.
I stifled my giggle and brushed the hair away from his eyes. Amazingly, my dad had managed to keep all of his hair, and it was getting long and unruly. I needed to take him to his haircut—one more to-do for the list.
“You can’t sleep on the sofa, Dad, you’ll hurt your neck. And your back. And all those other muscles and joints. Then I’ll have to listen to you complain,” I teased him, holding my hands out to help him off the couch.
I was grateful that the house was only a one-story, or we would struggle more than we already did getting him to bed. We were warned that falls were one of the biggest dangers to dementia patients, so I had diligently arranged the house to minimize the risk. Still, when he was tired, Dad tumbled sometimes, and it sent me into a panic.
“I can sleep wherever I want. This is my home,” he guffawed, but he took my hand nevertheless and let me pull him up.
I ignored his objections and gently helped move him down the hallway. When we reached his room, I tugged off his slippers and held out my arm for him to grab as he lowered himself onto the bed.
I wasn’t sure what I would do when my dad wasn’t my dad anymore. He was a crotchety old man, but he’d always felt like home to me. He wasn’t easy to get along with, and I remembered Mom saying he scared the neighbors off with his personality, but our home was never short on love.
I pulled the covers over him. The fight inside him was gone for the evening. His eyes were already closed, and I could tell he was seconds away from resuming his snoring.
“What am I going to do without you?” I whispered into the darkness.
His door was always left open so that the hallway light could flood into his room. That way, if he woke up in the middle of the night, he could see where he was going.
The floorboards creaked under my weight as I quietly made my way back into the kitchen. I needed to wipe down the counters and take out the trash before I could find my own way to bed.
I put the clean dishes away, rearranging the boxes of cereal my dad had misplaced during the day.
Every evening, there was something to fix or arrange—either his keys in the fridge or the cereal boxes where the glasses went.
This was my childhood home, and it broke my heart to think of the day I would need to sell it, but I also had to face the reality that one day, I would need to pay for a dementia care facility. Those didn’t come cheap, and his insurance only covered 25 percent of the cost. I’d already looked into it.
This disease had rocked our worlds and changed so much of my life in such a short time.
I could never tell him—it would break his heart—but his disease was one of the biggest reasons I’d never get a job that took me away from life. As difficult as my dad could be, there was no way in hell I’d miss out on these moments with him to pore over legal documents or some other boring paperwork.
As long as I was breathing, I’d enjoy my life and the people in it. That was a promise I intended to keep.
Chapter 10: Mark
P apers littering my desk, I struggled to recall the main points of my argument. The insurance case for Peter Daniels was tomorrow, and I felt more off-kilter than ever before.
In the last few weeks, Nicole’s presence had only further frustrated me. Every time she entered my office, I got distracted. Instead of thinking about work, I focused on her short skirts and the way her blouse pulled tight across her breasts. I wanted her in every sense of the word. Yet, I couldn’t have her.
John had made it clear that he’d already anticipated I would try to sleep with Nicole, and it annoyed me that he thought I was so predictable. I didn’t want to prove him right and cave in to my lesser desires.
Well, maybe my greater desires. The more I worked with Nicole, the stronger my desire for her became.
I threw down a paper as the phone rang loudly into the air. Damn it! Where was she? She was supposed to be handling all phone calls.
I waited for a few rings, and as I was about to screen the call, the red light on my receiver disappeared. She was back.
A sense of comfort spread through my chest when I knew where she was. I couldn’t explain it, but it helped my focus when I knew Nicole was right outside the door, just a call away.
I pulled my sheets closer to me, checking that the dates and facts of the case matched up with my argument. Peter Daniels had been hit by an oncoming truck driving in the wrong line. The ultimate issue seemed to be faulty brakes and power steering in the truck, which meant the driver had had little to no control over the vehicle.
The company wanted to shirk their responsibility to pay out Daniels, and this lawsuit meant a lot to him. As a result of the collision, he had been paralyzed for six months. Intense physical therapy had helped him regain movement and he was walking better with a crutch now, but all that time off had cost him his job, and in the midst of his health crisis, his wife had left him. She couldn’t handle all of his problems, she’d said. I felt bad for the guy, and I wanted this win for him as much as I wanted it for myself.
I wasn’t even billing him personally. He only had to pay out if he won the case. Otherwise, it was all pro bono. I couldn’t see charging a man who was as down on his luck as Peter was the last time I saw him.
My brows furrowed when I noticed one of the dates didn’t match up with a witness statement, but the phone rang again, interrupting my train of thought. I threw the papers down on my desk and stood up this time. What the hell was she doing if she wasn’t answering my calls?
I felt like my time was being wasted. Every time I tried to focus on the case, the phone rang and threw off my concentration. Annoyance poured out of me as I marched to the door to tear into Nicole.
I didn’t know why I felt the need to be harsher on her than I was on others. If I was honest, she’d proven her worth to me tenfold over the last few weeks. I didn’t think I’d be getting by on this case if it wasn’t for her. Once she asked me how I liked things done, I never had to go over it again. She paid attention, and the best part was she made my coffee the exact way I liked it.
My hand hovered over the door handle as the ringing stopped. I heard her voice through the door as she spoke to whoever was on the other line, soft and a little rushed. I shook my head and pushed myself away from the door.
She was busy, I couldn’t yell at her for being a minute late to answer the phone. Maybe there was an option on my end to quiet the ringtone. I wasn’t sure. I’d need to get Arthur in here to explain it to me.
I heaved my sorry butt back into my chair and looked at the mess of papers on my desk. The most important part of my case was going to be cross-examination. If I didn’t get it right, I wouldn’t get the jury on my side, and that would be disastrous. I didn’t want to seem like I was painting them as the bad guys. I wanted them to do it themselves.
“I’m sorry, I know you said not to disturb you, but I have the copies of those papers you requested,” Nicole’s voice reached my ears before I saw her edge her way into the room.
She placed a cup of coffee down on the side of my desk. I saw her looking for a place to set the papers, and the clutter made her wary of adding anything else to my desk. The judgment in her eyes annoyed me, and I felt like snapping at her.
Before I could, she tidied up a few of the papers, glancing at the headings on them. Then, in the spot she’d cleared, she plopped down the fresh set of documents in front of me.
The smell of the cinnamon in my coffee hit my nose, but it didn’t lessen my irritation by much.
“Come on, get on with it. I don’t have all day,” I grumbled, barking at her to get out of the office.
Nicole nodded her head and sauntered out of the room. Was this woman really not afraid of me? I noticed that she held my stares whenever she could. She didn’t drop her head down at my presence or rush off when I yelled at her to leave. Instead, she took her damn time, giving me longer than I wanted to stare at her firm butt in the black pants she wore
today.
I leaned back against my chair and pulled my coffee cup to my lips. I needed to get Nicole Reed out of my head and get my mind back on this case.
Once the door to my office closed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could focus on my case again—but first, my coffee.
A few minutes of silent deliberation gave me the direction I needed. This case was arguably one of the most important of my career.
It was a David vs. Goliath situation. Peter Daniels was David, facing the Goliath insurance company, and for someone with no income and no way to fight them, he certainly looked like the underdog in the media’s eyes.
If I didn’t win the case, I would jeopardize my seat as a partner, and I really needed to prove my worth to my brothers. And to every other bastard out there that thought I’d gotten my position because of my last name and not my legal abilities.
Besides, the income that would flow into the business if I won the case would be enough to get John and David off my back. Maybe they would even stop meddling in my life.
The cross-examination questions stared me in the face as I looked at my desk. The words jumped off the paper and danced around the room, making me feel dizzy.
For the first time in my legal career, I was nervous about going into a courtroom. That wouldn’t bode well for my client or for me.
Maybe all I needed to do was practice. I pulled the paper off of my desk and read over each question one more time, forcing myself to stay focused and above the fear.
The first witness I had on call was the truck driver. That was great for me because he’d lost his job as a result of the accident even though the mechanical failures of the truck were not on his head. He would accurately describe the failure of the vehicle.
The tricky part would be the maintenance engineer that had signed off on the truck and let it out of the bay. If I could prove the company had forged documents either before or after the accident, that would bring an even higher charge against them.