by Vi Keeland
I searched her eyes, trying to hold back firing off a million questions because I saw there was more she needed to say.
She closed her eyes for a while, taking a deep breath before reopening them and then looked directly into my eyes. “She came to my office...with your daughter.”
***
“Start from the beginning, Layla.”
I’d had to take a seat after I made her repeat what she’d said three times and told her I had no idea Max had a child, much less one who could be mine.
“I had an appointment on the calendar with a new client named Mackenzie. I had no idea Max was short for Mackenzie, so I didn’t think anything of it.” Layla’s voice was eerily calm. “The woman showed up and acted really strange. She had a little girl sleeping in the stroller. She said her partner stole six million dollars from her. Then her daughter woke up and—she was beautiful…. She had your exact same green eyes. Only I didn’t realize they were yours at first. When I complimented them, she said the little girl had her father’s eyes.”
“And she said it was my child?”
“You really had no idea?” She looked back and forth between my eyes.
“Of course not!” I stood and began to pace. “This is fucking nuts. I can’t have a child with her.”
“Why not?”
“Why would she have kept it from me?”
“Why would she steal from you and set you up when you both had more money than you knew what to do with already?”
I sat back down. With elbows on my knees, I held my head in my hands while I rubbed my temples. “I can’t answer that. Because none of it ever made sense to me.”
Layla was quiet for a moment. Her voice sounded so vulnerable and scared when she spoke. “You really didn’t know?”
It was at least the third time she’d asked me that question. Jesus Christ. I was so busy getting over the shock of what she’d told me, I hadn’t even begun to think about what this meant to the two of us if it were true. Looking up, I saw so much pain in her eyes. Suddenly everything I’d waited to have for more than two years felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
I got up and walked back around behind her desk, where she still sat in her chair. Crouching down again, I took her face in my hands. “I haven’t seen Max in more than a year. Last I’d heard, she’d moved to Florida. I didn’t even know she was in New York, and certainly not that she was coming to see you and playing some sort of sick game. I had no idea she had a child, and I wouldn’t put it past her for this entire thing to be made up, Layla. You have to believe me.” I moved my face closer so all we could see was into each other’s eyes. “I had absolutely no idea about any of this. No idea.”
She searched my face and nodded.
I let out a sigh of relief, even though I knew it was only temporary.
The sound of keys jingling forced my attention from Layla to the hall, just as a uniformed security guard stopped in the doorway. “Building closing in fifteen, Layla.”
She nodded. “Oh. Okay, Frank. Thanks.”
The guard looked at her face and me crouched down beside her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. We’ll clear out in a few minutes.”
He nodded. “Have a good night.”
When he walked away, I pushed hair from her cheek. “You look exhausted. Come home with me.”
She shook her head and started to sweep all the papers strewn over her desk into a pile with her hands. “I have Freckles at my house, remember? Plus, I’m exhausted. I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
She was already slipping away from me mentally. I couldn’t let physical distance add to that. “Can I come home with you, then?”
I saw the hesitancy in her face.
“I’ll sleep on the couch if you need some space. Just don’t push me out the door and close it, Layla. Please.”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
That night, she let me sleep in her bed. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight, holding on for my life. Because I knew. I knew. The shit was about to hit the fan tomorrow.
Chapter 24
* * *
Layla
The bed was empty next to me in the morning. Cold, too.
Daylight wasn’t yet shining through the blinds from outside, but I had no idea if it was the middle of the night or early in the morning. Reaching for my phone to check the time, I spotted the kitchen light on from underneath my closed bedroom door.
Five AM. I wasn’t a late riser, but it had taken me a long time to fall asleep, even after I’d rolled over and pretended to have conked out. So this morning, I was dragging. Part of me wanted to roll back over and forget everything, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come. I needed to get up and take a shower, think about everything that had transpired with the clear head of a new day. But I also needed to know if Gray was still here. I sensed he was, so I got out of bed and padded from the bedroom.
I found him with a coffee cup in his hand, staring at the screen of his laptop in the living room. The overhead light was off, but the glow of the screen illuminated his face. Gray was always handsome. It would be impossible to not see that through any emotions he wore; his chiseled bone structure didn’t allow the beauty to disappear like it did with some men, depending on their mood. But this morning he looked tired. His green eyes reflected the dark circles under them and looked strained from lack of sleep.
“How long have you been up?” I walked to the kitchen and took a coffee mug from the cabinet.
Gray set the laptop down on the coffee table and shifted in his seat to face the kitchen. “An hour or two?”
I fixed my coffee and leaned against the counter to sip. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I think it was more like a short nap. You?”
“A little longer than that.” I eyed his laptop. “What are you working on? You didn’t look that excited to be reading whatever it was.”
“Some revisions to the offer on that tech firm you reviewed the contract for. My partners want to make an offer today. They think another venture capitalist is interested, and if we extend an offer with a short window of acceptance, they won’t have time to finish their due diligence or make a competing offer.”
I nodded. “Let me know if you need me to do anything.”
Neither of us said anything for a few awkward minutes after that. I hated the feeling of an elephant being in the room and preferred to get things off my chest.
“Are you going to contact her today?”
He patted the couch next to him. “Come sit.”
This was going to be a push and pull. I could already see it. I’d try to put some space between us—physical or mental—and Gray would fight me on it.
“I prefer to stand while I drink my coffee.”
He frowned, then proceeded to get up and walk to the kitchen to stand across from me. My U-shaped kitchen was small, so the distance between us was only a few feet.
Push.
Pull.
He looked down at his feet. “I searched the Internet for her contact information this morning and got an email address and office number that look current. I don’t even have a telephone number for her.”
“What do you mean? How can you not have her number?”
“I tried to call her once after I figured out what she’d done. But she’d changed her cell phone number, and my email came back undeliverable.”
“Oh.” I hesitated for a moment. “I have it. I mean, she gave all her contact information when my paralegal set up the appointment. If you need it…”
Gray’s eyes locked with mine. “She’s already dragged you into whatever game she’s playing enough. But thank you.”
“What are you going to say when you contact her?”
Gray shook his head. “I have no fucking idea. But I guess I should start with ‘Do I have a daughter?’”
***
At two in the afternoon, I’d had the most unproductive day of my entire career.
I read a contract four times and sat in a staff meeting where the attorney next to me literally had to kick me under the table when someone had posed a direct question to me, and I hadn’t even heard them speak. I tried to order lunch with my assistant, but couldn’t decide what to eat, so I’d lied and said I remembered I’d brought in some leftovers.
A knock on my door interrupted my lengthy staring-at-the-window session.
Oliver smiled and stayed in the doorway. “Hey. How are things going?”
Even though we worked for the same firm, in the same building, I hadn’t seen him since we had lunch and I’d broken things off.
“Good. Busy.”
He nodded. “Not sure if you heard, but Elizabeth Waring is leaving.”
“Oh? No. I hadn’t heard. Is she going someplace good?” Elizabeth was a good friend of Oliver’s, an attorney in the intellectual property division who he worked with often. We’d had lunch all together a few times.
“She’s retiring.”
“Retiring? She’s what…thirty-five?”
He smiled. “That’s what we call people who leave private practice and go work for the government. She took a job at the U.S. Copyright Office.”
“Oh. Good for her. She’d said she wanted to have kids. That will make her life easier—working a regular nine-to-five and not having to worry about billable hours.”
“Yeah. She’s happy. Not going to get that here at any age. Do you know the difference between Pittman and a leech?”
“No. What?”
“After you die, a leech stops sucking your blood.”
I laughed. “That’s very true.”
“Anyway. Just wanted to say hi and let you know we’re taking her out for her last day if you’d like to join. Next Friday night at The Rodeo Bar around the corner.”
My brow arched. “The place with the mechanical bull?”
“That’s the one.”
“And I thought the family law department had the wild ones.”
He smiled. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”
“Thanks for the invite. I’ll try.”
After Oliver left, I sat back in my chair—because I hadn’t slacked off enough for the day. Such a nice guy. And I’d bet he didn’t have any secret children he didn’t know about. And considering the bar had let him in, I was pretty sure he wasn’t a convicted felon, either. But of course, I couldn’t fall for him. That would’ve been too easy. Apparently, complicated was more my thing.
My phone buzzed on my desk. Speak of the devil.
Gray: Dinner tonight?
Just seeing his name light up my phone gave me a jolt. Of course I wanted to see Gray. That was part of my problem. I didn’t know when it was time to walk away from the man. Or rather, I knew, I just couldn’t do it when I was near him. It made me wonder if this was how my mother had felt—letting her heart control her head when it came to my father and his secret family. I needed to be stronger than she was, so I decided to tell a little white lie.
Layla: Sorry. Have plans tonight.
Push.
Pull.
I pictured Gray sitting at his desk, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he read my decline of his invitation. I knew the next text to arrive wouldn’t be a simple okay. I needed a little space right now, and he wanted to crowd a small room and lock us both in it.
Gray: Work?
If I answered just no, it would seem dodgy and vague now. But I didn’t like lying. So instead, I decided to make my lie into a truth. Rather than texting Gray back right away, I sent a text to Quinn.
Layla: My day is in need of homemade hooch. Know of a place?
She texted back.
Quinn: You’re in luck. I just made a fresh batch. I added in some acetylsalicylic acid this time.
I laughed.
Layla: Isn’t that what aspirin is made of?
Quinn: Damn straight. Too birds, one stone. What time you coming?
Layla: Soon.
Quinn: Soon? The clock behind the bar says it’s not even three. Do I need to replace the batteries? Or do we have some serious shit to discuss that you’re leaving that office before seven at night?
She knew me well.
Layla: Don’t waste the batteries. I might need them for my vibrator soon. XO
Now, I’m not lying.
Switching chat strings, I opened the one with Gray.
Layla: No. Plans with Quinn.
Gray: Okay. Be safe.
I wanted to leave our conversation at that, but I was curious about whether he’d reached Max and wanted to talk about it over dinner. It would be just like Gray to make sure to deliver that type of news in person.
Layla: Did you reach Max?
Gray: Not yet. Left two messages. Receptionist said she’s out of town today.
I took a deep breath in and out and tossed my phone on my desk. Screw it. What was I waiting for? The whistle to blow at five o’clock?
I opened my desk drawer and pulled out my purse. Not even bothering to put away the file I’d been working on, I decided my day was over.
It’s five o’clock somewhere.
***
Quinn’s jaw hung open. And that was saying something. My best friend had an Irish dad and owned a bar. There wasn’t much that shocked her.
“So she had his baby while he was in prison for the crime she committed, and as soon as he starts to get his life back in order, she shows up to drop a bomb?”
“It appears that way.” I sucked back a third shot of homemade whiskey and winced at the burn that traveled down my throat.
An older gentleman who must’ve been a regular—he looked familiar even to me—held up his empty beer mug from the other end of the bar. “Hey, Q. How about a refill sometime today?”
Quinn waved him away and responded without even turning her head in his direction. “Go around and fill your mug yourself, Frank. It’s on me, but it’s self-serve this afternoon.”
The old guy practically hopped from his seat to help himself.
Quinn leaned her elbows on the bar and settled her head into her hands. “So, let’s fast forward and play this out. For whatever reason, she didn’t tell him he has a kid. But it turns out it really is his. What does that mean to you and Gray?”
“I have no idea.”
Quinn tilted her head. “Having a kid isn’t the end of the world. Of course, it’s the end of your sex life, money, nice figure, and youthful skin, but it’s not the end of the world.”
I laughed. And hiccupped. Sort of a hiccup-laugh combo, which sent Quinn into a fit of laughter, too. It wasn’t even really that funny, but I think we both just needed the laugh.
Quinn wiped tears from her eyes. “You know, come to think of it, having a relationship with a guy who has a kid isn’t that bad. They generally only have the monsters every other weekend and get to be the good guy in the parent duo. They don’t have to wake them up for school or squeeze their little necks to get them to brush their teeth at night. It’s like the best of both worlds. You get to have kids without the full-time responsibility.”
“You have to squeeze their necks to get them to brush their teeth at night?”
“Just a little in the back. But it’s more for me than for Harper.”
Some actual customers started to come into the bar—ones Quinn couldn’t offer self-service to. So I was left to ponder and drown my sorrows in alcohol alone for a while. And ponder I did.
What would I do if that little girl was Gray’s daughter?
I’d dated a guy who was divorced once. He had a four-year-old. I hadn’t ruled him out because he had a child, so why would Gray be any different?
Because the guy I dated was just that—some guy I dated.
Not the man I’m in love with.
The man
I’m
In love
With.
That bore repeating in my head.
Slowly.
I guess it didn’t really come as a shock. I’d fallen in love with Gr
ay two-and-a-half years ago. It was just the first time I’d actually admitted it to myself. Which meant…I guzzled the rest of my drink.
After five hours of sitting at the bar and wallowing in self-pity, I finally headed home. Quinn made sure I made it safely into the back of the cab and took down the driver’s ID number—letting him know she had it—to ensure he took me straight home.
Once there, I went directly to my bed, without even taking my shoes off, and plopped down face first. I’d just started to doze off when my phone chimed, indicating a new message.
I felt around for the end table without lifting my head and had to squint to make out the words. It was a text from Gray.
Gray: I came by your place a little while ago but managed to talk myself out of ringing the buzzer. I don’t even know if you were home, but it felt good to be in the same place you might be. I’m giving you the space you want, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. Please know that, Freckles.
I loved him even more after reading that text. Yet I couldn’t let him push. We’d only just worked things out, and I didn’t think our relationship was ready to add a child. Ignoring his words, I texted back.
Layla: Did you talk to Max?
Gray: Her office called me back and told me to meet her there tomorrow at 9AM.
Jealousy shot an arrow through my heart at the thought of them together in one room. It was ridiculous. I knew that. The man loathed her. But I felt what I felt. Love was possessive. It didn’t matter who the intruder was; it only mattered that someone was circling what I considered mine.
I swallowed the lump of wariness in my throat and responded with all the enthusiasm I could muster.
Layla: Good luck tomorrow.
Chapter 25
* * *
Gray
I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair, growing more restless by the minute.
Max’s secretary had showed me into a conference room—one with a long table and more than a dozen chairs. But more importantly, one that had glass panels, which allowed everyone who walked down the hall to see in. At first I thought perhaps it was standard operating procedure—the secretary didn’t know who I was or have any reason to think my business with Max today required any sort of privacy. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized Max left nothing to chance. She’d have instructed her staff to put me exactly where she wanted me, so the fact that I was sitting in a fishbowl was definitely not an accident.