by Jamie Pope
“But it might be good for your soul. Wouldn’t you feel better if you did something good once in a while?”
“I give plenty to charity.”
“But I don’t want your money. That’s easy to give. I need a little bit of your time. And right now all I’m asking you to do is listen.”
“Talk.”
“I have a ten-year-old girl who is about to be adopted by a great family. The kind of family every social worker dreams about for her foster kids. Her birth mother left her on the steps of our agency two years ago. We went through the process and searched for both parents but couldn’t find them and the child was eligible for adoption. But recently the mother started to contact her.” Sunny pulled her phone out of her bag and showed him the picture she had of the two of them together. “This is her.”
Julian took the picture from Sunny and studied it. “She’s cute, but I still don’t see a case.”
“There’s more. She started contacting the child at her home with her new parents, which should be impossible because once a parent loses rights we seal our records, and there is to be no contact unless both parties agree to it. This mother had completely disappeared. She left this kid half-starved and filthy. Who knows what she exposed her to.”
“But this mother found the child.”
“Her name is Soren, and yes she had contacted her and her foster mother by letter, and she says she is planning on getting her back.”
“She just can’t take her child back. Her rights have been terminated. I don’t care what she says in her letter, legally it’s not possible.”
“I know that, but it hasn’t been one letter. Another came last night by courier and the mother is sending money. Thousands of dollars at this point.”
“It’s like she’s paying child support. That complicates things. If she goes to court she could use that in her argument. Are you sure everything was done correctly? In a court case she’ll use every loophole to her advantage.”
“I went over everything myself, but who knows what she has planned and that scares me. This woman has means. She managed to find Soren in a city of millions and now she says she’s coming back for her. I don’t know what to do. I keep telling the foster parents not to worry, but that’s wrong of me because I am worried. Jeannie Earl is a good mother to Soren and she has been through a lot. She deserves to raise a child and Soren deserves this woman’s love. She was a mess when her mother left her the last time. What’s to say this woman won’t slip back into old habits? What’s to say she won’t leave her again?”
Sunny’s chest started to grow impossibly tight as she spoke. She knew what it was like to be left. She knew what it was like to have everything go seemingly well and then have it all ripped from you. She was an adult now. She had set up her life so no one could rock it with one decision. But Soren was a powerless child and the thought of her life being turned upside down again made Sunny want to double over. “I’m afraid.” She said the words aloud for the first time.
“Of a custody battle?”
“Soren is going to be stuck in the middle of all this and I’m not sure how she’s going to handle it. She didn’t speak for months. Two foster families sent her away because they couldn’t deal with her issues. You can’t imagine how hard it is to be left by your mother. You don’t trust anymore. You feel like there is something wrong with you, like you’re unlovable. And for a little kid to go through that and survive is amazing.”
He nodded once and she saw a mix of sadness and understanding in his eyes. “You do need legal help,” he admitted.
“I know the kinds of things these kids go through. Even people who love their kids hurt them. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she was hurt again because I didn’t do everything possible to stop it.”
“Enough,” Julian said softly, cutting her off. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You should meet Soren. She’s smart and beautiful and funny. She’s got a chance. I can give her the chance I never got. I don’t find matches this perfect. People don’t want to take older children, but the Earls did, and they are good people and . . .”
* * *
Julian placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He knew he shouldn’t have touched her again after her last reaction to him, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to stop himself from placing his hand on her cheek. He wanted to comfort her. Yes, she looked younger than she was. Her simple dress, well-worn flats, and messy hair didn’t help that, but just by speaking with her he knew she was more woman than girl. She was smart and she cared deeply about this kid she was trying to protect and the family she was trying to place with her. Sunny was scared and if she kept talking he would want to help her. But he couldn’t because she was the last thing he needed right now.
“Sunny, I understand, but please stop talking. The last thing I need is a crying girl in Central Park.” They were well into the park too. He had stepped outside of his apartment, needing some fresh air on this warm spring afternoon. He had gone into the office early that morning to get some work done on a big case he had coming up. There were lots of young lawyers there, scrambling to get their work done, to make an impression. He brought in the biggest clients. He earned the firm millions and millions of dollars, but Julian was there still trying to prove himself like the rest of them. His colleagues thought of him as a lineman who endorsed sneakers and sports drinks, who only brought clients in because of his days as a pro. But he had gone to a damn good law school just like them and he passed his bar exam with much higher than average scores just like them and he did have his novelty star power to get his foot in the door, but a lot of them had rich mommies and daddies who knew one of the partners. And just like all of them when he screwed up he heard about it. He wasn’t immune. He wasn’t just a token. Most days he didn’t think much about it, but he had been in a funky mood all week. Then he saw Sunny walk past his building and without thinking he reached out and grabbed her wrist, which he probably would never have done if she were anyone else. But he saw her and couldn’t let her go by.
He had startled her. He saw the panic and fear leap into her eyes and it was deeper than he expected to see just by catching her off guard. He knew he should have parted ways with her by now, but fifteen minutes later they were standing in the park and he didn’t want to let her go yet.
“I don’t cry,” she said softly. “I stopped a long time ago.”
She was probably making a comment about her age, but there was something in her voice that made him think it was more than just that. He looked into her eyes and felt something pass between them again. It was similar to the feeling he got when they first met and he had shaken her hand. He realized that he was still touching her, his thumb gently stroking her shoulder.
What the hell was he doing? He needed to send her away.
“You depress me. Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.”
* * *
They had ended up at the Boathouse in Central Park. Sunny had seen the restaurant dozens of times but she had never eaten there. She had never thought to eat there. Sunny didn’t think she would have ended up there when she left her apartment this morning. But here she was with a massively gorgeous man who had just placed his big hot hand on her body and stroked her shoulder with his thumb. He had been trying to comfort her, but she felt more than comfort when he touched her and for a moment she wished that her skin was bare and that there were no barriers between them.
The hostess led them to a small table that overlooked the lake. It was beautiful. One of those gems New York City had to offer that she rarely got to see because through her work, she often was shown the ugliest side of the city.
“You’re really buying me lunch, right?” she asked him as they sat down. “You’re not going to say that you’re buying me lunch and then send me a bill for twelve hundred dollars later?”
“It will only be for five hundred dollars. After that story, I have to give you a discount. I have a heart after all.”
She grinned at
him. He grinned back and she was briefly caught up in how sexy his smile was.
“I have one rule today. Don’t,” he started to say.
“Try to convince you to take my case?”
“No. I’m not doing that, no matter what you do. You can’t order a salad. You have to order food. I’m sick of going out and paying for some lettuce you know you don’t really want.”
“I never order a salad when I’m out. Especially with very rich former football playing lawyers. Do they have nachos here? The ones with the fake cheese are my favorite.”
“No nachos.”
“Mac and cheese? And I don’t mean that fancy kind either. I want the kind that comes out of the box.”
“I think you might be a year or two too old for the kids’ menu. I’d bet you’d like grown-up food if you tried it.”
“What would you recommend?”
“How about I order a selection of things and we share. They serve brunch till four and I worked out hard with my trainer this morning before I went into the office.”
“You went into work today?”
“A lot of us do. Eighty-hour work weeks aren’t a myth when you’re trying to make it to the top.”
“So that’s how your firm justifies the huge salaries. We pay our lawyers a fortune so we don’t feel guilty sending them to an early grave?”
“I’d bet you work nearly as many hours as I do,” he countered. “That’s what the trainer is for. To keep my mind clear and my body healthy so I can live long enough to enjoy the enormous fortune I’m earning to keep reality television stars out of jail.”
She sat back in her chair and studied him. Linemen could be doughy, but Mr. King kept himself in shape. She wondered just how hard that body felt under all those clothes.
A waitress came to their table and Julian ordered enough food for six people.
“It’s obvious you find comfort in food. What do the other fancy lawyers do to blow off steam?”
“Some drink. Some turn to drugs. Some screw everything in a ten-foot radius.”
“Oh?” She leaned forward and rested her hand on her chin. “Tell me more about that last one.”
“I shouldn’t.”
Her eyes flicked across his body. “Confession is good for the soul.”
“How old are you? Really? I can’t tell.”
“Seventeen and a half.”
“Sunny,” he warned.
“I’m damn near thirty, Jules. I’m a licensed social worker with a master’s degree. How young could I possibly be and why is this such a concern for you?”
“When you work for high-profile people you come across your share of clients who have had scandals with girls and boys who haven’t made it to their eighteenth birthdays and get involved with people twice their age. I’m suspicious.”
“I’m jaded. One of the girls on my caseload had been a sex worker since the age of . . .”
He put his hand up to stop her from speaking. “You’re not allowed to talk about your job. I want to eat carbs and sugar and fat. I’m here to enjoy my day, damn it.”
“Okay. Then we talk about your job. Give me the dirt.”
“One of the junior partners brings in women he’s met online and has sex with them in his office. One time he forgot to lock the door and his assistant walked in on him. She was so shocked by what she saw she screamed. Apparently there was a latex and a dog leash involved.”
“Kinky. Did he get fired? I can’t imagine that’s cool with your bosses.”
“No. It was late. We didn’t have clients there. My bosses have their own proclivities. They know that everyone needs to blow off steam. And normally that kind of thing wouldn’t bother me except that he had a pregnant wife waiting at home.”
“Asshole.”
“I agree.”
“But you work out and eat. How boring. Do you at least smash things with your ham-sized fist when you get angry?”
“No. I’m a former pro athlete who nearly destroyed myself partying after I got injured. I find other ways to channel my rage.”
“I guess you don’t have a secret sex dungeon either?”
“I tried to put one in. The co-op board wouldn’t allow it,” he said with a straight face.
She laughed. There was something about him that she liked. But before she could put her finger on it the food had arrived. There were waffles and French toast, eggs Benedict, macaroni and cheese, some sort of chicken dish, and a quiche. There was so much beautiful food before them that she became emotional. It was rare she got to eat like this.
Ever since she had gone into foster care her belly had been full, but before then she remembered the times when she would go more than a day without anything except water. That had left a mark on her. Julian probably thought nothing about the spread before him, but for her food like this was a celebration.
“Is everything okay?” he asked her, appearing truly concerned.
“I could cry. This is beautiful. Thank you.”
He frowned at her as if he was unable to process if her gratitude was real. “Eat.”
She did. The food was filling and delicious. She felt his eyes on her more than once and when she looked up at him he was openly studying her. “What?”
“Do you eat like this on dates?”
“Like what? Am I being a pig?”
“No. You’re eating like you’re not trying to impress me.”
“Why should I impress you?” She put her fork down. “Judging by the way you’re studying me like I’m some kind of new species, I gather you don’t date many girls who eat.”
“No, I don’t date many women who like to eat. My ex was one of those meticulous types. Chicken had to be cubed, not sliced, dressing on the side. All organic, no gluten, no sodium.”
“No fun. I’d bet she was unnaturally skinny. Not the God-given thinness some people are born with. I bet she exercises away all her breasts, and thighs and hips. That she flips if food is made with butter and not steamed. I’d bet she’s trying to keep up with some impossible beauty standard created by the media. Which I don’t get because men are hardwired to desire women who are . . . more bountiful.”
“I think there could be something to that theory.”
“Then why do you do it? Judging by the way you spoke of your ex she didn’t make you very happy. Maybe you should look for a different type of woman in a place you’d never think to look.”
“But what if I’m looking for a particular type of woman? A man like me needs someone who isn’t ordinary.”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “What’s that mean? Who is just ordinary? I’m certainly not.”
“You certainly aren’t, Sunshine,” he said dryly.
“Thanks, Jules.” She smiled.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Who cares? I’m choosing to think of it that way.”
“You’re cute.” He grabbed one of her errant ringlets and pulled on it.
She swatted at his hand. “Hey!”
“My little sister had this kind of hair when we were kids. I loved to annoy her by pulling it.” He grabbed another strand and pulled that one too. There was a little mischievousness in his eyes.
“Are you biracial?” she asked him.
“I am, but I never call myself that. What about you?”
“My mama was about as blond and blue eyed as they come.”
“We have something in common.”
“Matching identity crises?”
He laughed loudly. Sunny loved the sound of it, its deep timbre, the way it vibrated through her chest. She wanted more of it.
“Julian?”
Sunny heard a clipped but husky voice call. She looked up to see a blond ice goddess wearing Chanel sunglasses on her forehead and a slate gray dress that matched the color of the woman’s eyes.
“Regina.”
Immediately Sunny noticed the change in his demeanor. The laughter was gone, the smile melted away. There was a tightness about him.
No longer was he Jules, the funny guy she enjoyed. He was Julian King, high-priced attorney. He was the same man she had met in his office.
“Is this your baby sister? Hello, Galen. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“This isn’t Galen. You’ve met my sister before. This is Sunshine Gibson.”
“Sunshine,” Regina said, placing a false smile on her face. “What a cute name for such a cute girl. I didn’t know Julian was mentoring. Tell me, sweetheart, which law schools are you applying to?”
This was not one of Julian’s acquaintances. There was too much familiarity in her voice, there was possession in her eyes. This woman already knew the ways Julian’s body felt pressed against hers. She had probably had the pleasure of his lips on her neck.
Sunny wasn’t sure why, but this woman really annoyed her.
“Julian isn’t mentoring me,” was all she said, giving no explanation of their relationship.
“I’m not.”
Apparently, he wasn’t explaining things either, which was interesting.
“Sunny, this is Regina Richardson. She is president of Fierce Fire Makeup. Regina, Sunny is a social worker for the city.”
Regina fixed her gaze on Sunny as if she was trying to figure out her purpose for being there with him. “You’re a social worker?” she asked as if she had never heard of the job. “How . . . nice for you. How did you meet? I didn’t think Julian crossed paths with many social workers.”
She said it as if social worker was a code word for social disease.
“I’m going to have his child,” Sunny said, feeling a little annoyed. “Tell her, baby. We are going to be married by the end of summer.” She reached for his hand and slid her fingers through his. She had done it for effect, but she felt a warm buzzing along her nerves.
Regina looked completely bewildered. “Julian, you just asked me—”
He cut her off and scowled at Sunny. “Sunny was joking. She’s a friend of an acquaintance. We are discussing business.”
“So she’s your client?”
“Why does it matter to you? You made it perfectly clear what you wanted.”
“Nothing was clear.” She shook her head. “You gave me an ultimatum and then walked away.”