Always With You: Part Two

by Leighton, M.

  I brush my knuckles lightly over the wooden door, listening closely over the muted thump of the music for signs of life on the other side. I closed the office door, which is double-insulated, as are all the walls of the office and apartment, so it’s surprisingly quiet. The music can still be heard, but it’s more a soothing thump than an irritating noise.

  “Who is it?” I hear a tiny voice call.

  “It’s Cash, Isabella. Did I wake you up?”

  There’s a long pause. “If I say no, will I get in trouble?”

  I grin. This might be the first time I can actually see this little girl being mine. “No, you won’t get in trouble.”

  After another pause, I hear the rattle of the knob just before the door swings open. Isabella looks out beyond me, like she might be looking for her mother, before she steps back and lets me in.

  I leave the door open, both for her comfort and for propriety. She is a little girl after all and I am a perfect stranger to her. And we have yet to determine whether she’s my daughter. I figure it’s better to be extra cautious right now.

  The television is on and tuned in to the Disney channel. Isabella climbs back onto the bed, but doesn’t get under the covers. I sit in the chair across from her, keeping a good distance between us.

  “Not sleepy, huh?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Did you take your medicine?” I ask. She eyes me warily, not answering one way or the other. It occurs to me that she might be afraid I’ll tell on her, so I lean forward until my elbows are resting on my knees and I lower my voice. “I won’t tell your mom if you didn’t.”

  She considers me for a few more seconds before she speaks. “It makes me feel funny.”

  “Funny how? Like sleepy?”

  “Yeah, but it makes me feel sick, too. And I don’t feel good the next day.”

  I frown. Maybe she’s experiencing side effects that could indicate a need to change to another drug. “What’s the name of the medicine? Do you know?” She shakes her head again. I shouldn’t have even asked that. She’s nine for God’s sake. “Do you know what your condition is? The name of it? Why you have to take the medicine?”

  Again, she shakes her head and again, I feel like the worst parent wannabe in the world. How do I engage a nine-year-old girl that I’ve just met and may or may not be my daughter?

  Then it hits me. Something my mom used to do with me when I couldn’t sleep. “I have an idea. Stay right there.”

  I get up and walk into the small kitchen. We left all the cabinets and the fridge stocked. There was no reason to take it, but honestly, it never even occurred to me. All I had on my mind was Olivia and her father.

  I take down two glasses and a saucer and pour two glasses of milk. Then I spread out a handful of Oreos on the saucer and carry it all back into the bedroom. I hand Isabella the glass without the saucer on top. She takes it hesitantly. I sit in the floor in front of the bed, facing the television, and I hold up the saucer of cookies. “Here, have a cookie. It’ll make you sleepy. Oreos and milk make magic when you put them together.”

  Isabella takes one, but she’s frowning as she does. “I’m nine. I’m too old to believe in magic.”

  I nod. “I get it. But just try one and see. See if you don’t get sleepy.”

  She watches me as she takes a bite of cookie and chews, chasing it with a sip of milk. I do the same, only I dunk my cookie in the milk before I take a bite. She watches me carefully. When she’s finished, I offer the saucer again and she takes another Oreo. This time, she dunks it in her milk, just like I did, and brings the dripping circle to her mouth, biting it in half. Chocolatey milk runs down her chin and she grins, but doesn’t stop chewing. I dunk another cookie and pop the whole thing in my mouth. She giggles around her Oreo, her teeth black in between, her chin still stained with run-off.

  Isabella pulls her feet up under her and scoots closer to where I lean against the bed, dunking the second half of her cookie in her milk. It’s a little thing that feels huge. Like we’ve reached some tiny yet significant milestone. Her ebony eyes glisten happily in the bluish light of the television and, for the first time, part of me hopes that this little girl is mine.

  We finish the cookies and I set the saucer and our glasses aside. I leave my eyes focused on the television, but my attention is on Isabella. She watches the show intently, eventually leaning to one side to take her feet out from under her. She plays with her toes for a few minutes and I see her yawn twice.

  After about ten minutes, she pushes her legs out behind her and stretches out on her stomach, resting her chin on her folded hands. I turn my head just enough to watch her without being detected. I take in her long, long eyelashes, her button nose, her softly rounded chin. She’s a beautiful little girl. Could I have had a part in making her? Or does she belong to someone else?

  I watch the lashes blink slower and slower, her eyes get heavier and heavier until her head lists to one side and settles along her forearm. She looks like an angel, her cupid’s bow lips parted just enough to puff warm air at me.

  I want to take her in my arms and hold her for a few minutes, to watch her sleep and feel the weight of her against my chest. But I don’t. It’s not time for that yet. Instead, I move silently to my feet and pull the end of the comforter up to cover her with, leaving her undisturbed as I exit the room to stand quietly, thoughtfully in the office outside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Olivia

  I didn’t know days could speed by so quickly. Or that a man could heal so quickly from having his chest cut open and his heart tinkered with. And yet here I am, watching my dad putter around in my kitchen a mere eight days after surgery. He insisted on making dinner and then he’s pushing me out the door to catch up on the end-of-month accounting at Dual. I’ve practically taken over the books there. I just fill in shifts behind the bar to help out or just be near Cash when he’s doing his thing there.

  “I told you I can do that tomorrow, Dad,” I’d said.

  He’d adamantly refused. “Nope. Tonight. End of story.”

  I think he’d overheard Cash tell me that he missed having me around the club at night. Since we got married, we’ve been together most of the time. I’ve seen him less over the last few days than I have in months. Neither of us likes it, but I only have one father, and this is not forever.

  Once the dinner dishes are cleaned up, which I insisted upon doing, and Dad is situated in front of the television with the remote, snacks and the phone nearby, I leave for Dual. I have to admit that it feels good to be doing something as ordinary as heading to the club to work. It seems nothing is normal these days. Every routine is altered, every plan subject to change. From the time I get up to the time I go to bed, nothing is the same. I see Cash for a few minutes here and there, in the mornings and late at night when he comes in, but we are never really alone. Since Dad is staying with us until he recuperates, we don’t really have any privacy. And we can’t go to the club apartment either because Sophie and Isabella are there. It makes me miss him, even though he hasn’t gone anywhere. Maybe that’s why I’m looking forward to this one tiny bit of normal, to going to the club, working in the office while Cash keeps an eye on things in Gavin’s absence.

  There’s a big crowd when I pull up out front. There’s no point in using the garage since I can’t really use the apartment entrance. If I remember correctly, Sophie is off tonight, so she and Isabella will probably be back there. I definitely don’t want to intrude on that. I don’t want to see or be around Sophie one bit more than I absolutely have to.

  Pour Some Sugar On Me is pumping through the speakers when I push through the door. A body shot must be going on. I glance over at the bar to see a girl spread out on the bar and a male patron sucking what is most likely tequila from her navel. I smile at the sizzling memory of my first body shot. It was on that very bar with Cash doing the licking. It’s why I can never listen to this song without feeling warm and achy.

  I’m filled
with the pleasant glow of those thoughts as I make my way through the crush of bodies to the door at the back corner of the club. It’s pulled closed, telling me this is where I’ll find my husband, why I didn’t see his face among those cheering the body shot.

  I swing the door open and step quickly inside to pull it shut behind me, not wanting the noise to disturb him. Only Cash isn’t in the office. I hear his voice, though. It’s coming from the next room. From the apartment. The door is partially ajar and the lights are on.

  I listen as I walk forward. Cash’s low rumble can be heard beneath the giggle of a little girl. It stops me in my tracks and steals my breath for a few seconds. It’s both heartwarming and heartwrenching. I gulp, noting that my throat is dry as parchment, and I creep to the crack and peek inside. Cash is sitting in the floor playing some sort of card game with Isabella. He throws down cards as quickly as he can, chanting something each time he does. Isabella watches intently, waiting for a certain card I assume. When she sees it, she slaps her hand down on it and holds it up, squealing in victory. She bounces where she sits, clapping her hands excitedly. And then, from outside my vision where the door obscures the rest of the room, Sophie leans forward to hug her. The perfect picture of a mother and father enjoying a night of fun with their daughter.

  Like a family.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Olivia

  I am exhausted. Again. I left after finding Cash playing cards with Sophie and Isabella. That scene…seeing him interact with the little girl…knowing Sophie was there, enjoying something with him that I can’t…it was just too much. I couldn’t bear to interrupt because all Cash was doing was spending time with a child that might well be his. I wouldn’t ruin that for him, no matter how uncomfortable it made me. But Sophie…she’s a different story. I could gleefully have yanked her up off the floor by her hair and then rammed her head into the wall. I don’t have a nasty temper and I’m not particularly prone to violence, but that woman… I’d happily kick her ass and leave her for dead if given the chance and she caught me in the right mood.

  “Is that harsh, Ginger?” I ask of my friend who is growling into the phone on the other end of the line.

  “Hell no! That whore deserves to have her heart ripped out. She thinks we don’t know what she’s up to, but we’re smart bitches. Crazy bitches, too. That skank better watch her back!”

  I smile at Ginger’s enthusiasm. She’s loyal to a fault. She’d probably help me cover up a murder if I needed her to. Not that I’d go to that extreme over Sophie. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have mean, evil, hurtful thoughts.

  “Well, I guess I’d better get home. I’m almost out of gas.”

  “That’s what riding around, talking to your best friend for two hours will do for you.”

  “Thanks for listening. You’re such a good friend.”

  “Think nothing of it. I like plotting pretend mayhem with you. It makes me feel like I’m not the only deviant in the world.”

  At that, I chuckle. “In that case, glad to help.”

  “Get some sleep, Liv. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

  I am. I really, really am.

  “I’ll try. If I could just get that image out of my head.”

  “I doubt that’ll happen until you replace it with something better.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Well, considering that lewd acts with your hunka hunka burnin’ love husband are off the table until Daddy-O moves back home, I’d say plan a little thing with the three of you. That’s almost as good as cutting Sophie out of a picture.”

  Just the thought of it makes my heart hurt. “I’m not sure that would help very much.”

  “Look, doll, I know you’re all tore up about your empty baby oven, but you can be a part of this with Cash. Don’t let that trollop exclude you. That’s exactly what she wants. If this kid is his, make a future with her on your terms.”

  If this kid is his…

  My stomach squeezes.

  “Speaking of which, I wonder how much longer she’s going to be able to put off the testing.”

  “Let’s tie her up and make her go.”

  “Ummm, that’d be a felony for one thing. Secondly, we don’t need her sample. Just her daughter’s.”

  “Good point. Thanks for keeping a level head.”

  I smile. Ginger goes off like a shotgun blast when she gets something in her head.

  “I think I might call that office in the morning. Wouldn’t it be kind of me to make an appointment for her? You know, since she’s got so much on her plate,” I say, sugar dripping from my tongue.

  “That would be so kind of you,” she concurs then laughs maniacally.

  “Maybe I’ll drop by and talk to Marissa. Just see what she has to say from a legal standpoint.”

  “Also a good idea.”

  I feel better about tomorrow already.

  “I guess I’ll let you go then. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. On your night off, no less.”

  “No problem. I think my favorite Australian has probably had plenty of time to recover. I think I’ll go see if he’s ready for me to throw my shrimp on his barbie.”

  I snort. “That’s an interesting euphemism.”

  “What?” she asks. I can all but picture her innocent expression. “He’s firing up the grill. Sex makes me hungry.”

  “Oh. I thought…I assumed…”

  “Nah, I’m just teasin’. That’s totally code for hopping on his big c—”

  “I got it, I got it!” I interject. “Go have fun with his barbie, then. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “No mercy!” she reminds before she hangs up.

  “No mercy,” I repeat quietly to myself as I set my phone aside. I’m not about to let some two-bit harlot from Cash’s past jeopardize what we have. Or what we will have. Cash is mine. One way or the other, Sophie is going to realize that.

  φ φ φ φ φ φ φ

  I wake to sunlight streaming through the window and Cash curled up to my left. I smile as I roll onto my side and stare over at his gorgeous face. It’s more boyish in sleep, but no less arresting. He’s positively breathtaking, in sleep and otherwise. But when those eyes are open and watching me…my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. And neither do my panties. They never did.

  When he got home last night, I was still awake. I didn’t mention coming by the club. I didn’t want to let Sophie interfere with one more second of my life than what was necessary. So when Cash took off his clothes and climbed into bed, I reached for him. And he reached right back, making the kind of slow, sweet love to me that always leaves me ridiculously sappy and joyful the next day. He doesn’t have to say a word to tell me how much he loves me. He shows me with every kiss, every touch, every smooth movement of his body against mine. And it leaves its mark. For days afterward, it leaves its mark.

  When he pulled me, sated, onto his chest some time later, he told me that he’d gotten to spend some time with Isabella. “I want to start getting to know her. Just in case,” he’d said. I nodded against him and he kissed the top of my head, letting the bothersome conversation drop. Today, I’m determined to keep things in perspective and keep my emotions in check.

  I ease out from beneath the covers and set about getting ready, resolved to tackle the Sophie stuff first thing. I want to take back control as quickly and definitively as I can, so when my hair is dry and my face is made up, I kiss Cash without waking him, make sure my father is settled and I head to my cousin and Cash’s brother’s place.

  I realize when I knock and don’t get an answer right away that I probably should’ve called. When they’re in town and not on their boat, they probably have lots of plans and it was terribly inconsiderate of me not to bear that in mind and show some respect. I guess this Sophie/Isabella thing has totally polluted my brain.

  Finally, just as I’m turning to walk back to my car and leave, Nash opens the door. He looks distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Olivia. What’s up?
” he asks, pulling the door up behind where he stands in the opening and shoving one hand in the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Oh, hi. I hope I’m not interrupting. I just wanted to stop by and talk to Marissa for a few minutes. Get her opinion on something. I should’ve called first, though. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no. It’s fine. She’s, uh…she can’t, um…”

  I feel a blush coming on. “I am interrupting. God, I’m so sorry, Nash! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

  Actually I do.

  “Don’t apologize. It’s not that. She’s just…”

  As if to punctuate the sentence he continues to stumble over, I hear awful retching from behind Nash.

  “Oh my God, Nash! Is that Marissa? Is she okay?”

  Sophie and Isabella are temporarily forgotten in my concern for my cousin.

  He pulls the door up closer to his back, an obvious attempt to dull the sounds coming from inside. I frown.

  “Nash, what’s going on?”

  “Marissa isn’t feeling well. She, uh, she might’ve eaten something that didn’t set well.”

  “Then for God’s sake, take her to the emergency room. If she has food poisoning, she—”

  He blocks me as I try to push around him. My frown deepens when I see the look of panic on his face.

  “No! She’ll be fine. Seriously. She just needs a couple of hours to get it out of her system and she’ll be fine.”

  I hear more retching and Nash pales visibly. I narrow my eyes on his face. “What’s going on, Nash? Maybe try the truth this time.” There’s no way Nash would risk Marissa’s health by not taking her to the doctor if there was even the hint of something wrong with her.

  Unless he knows this will pass.

  And what is making her sick.

  For just a couple of hours.

  In the morning.

  No! It couldn’t be!

  Surely I would know. Surely they would tell me if…if…