by Marni Mann
“That’s probably for the better. You can get you two figured out and then see how the little one fits in.” He set the ball down and grabbed one of the folders that held Shawn’s contracts. “Is Puma in here?”
I nodded. “Man, you weren’t fucking kidding. They’re playing hardball.”
“How about the others?”
“I should have the final numbers worked out within a few weeks. The contracts are going back and forth between the lawyers now that I’ve negotiated all the terms. You know, those greedy bastards have to weigh in and take their cut, too.”
“Says the dude with a law degree.”
I laughed at how true that statement was. “What do you have going on today?”
“I’m flying out tomorrow to go to Atlanta and then swinging by Memphis, Detroit, and Vegas where I’ve got clients shooting. My last stop will be LA where I’ll see James for a few days, and then I’ll come back to Miami. I think I’m going to head out of here after lunch and take the afternoon off.”
“Max is about to go on the road, too.”
I’d checked his schedule this morning before I stopped by his office to talk to him. I hadn’t seen much of him in the last few weeks, and I missed that fucker.
Brett picked up the ball again and tossed it to me. “I’m going to see him in LA while he’s out there, visiting Eve.”
I tossed the ball back to him just as a celebrity alert came across my phone. Several would come in a day, broadcasting whatever piece of gossip to millions of subscribers.
Just in case they involved one of my clients, I read every one that flashed across my screen.
This time, it was about someone I represented.
And it was also about our best friend.
BREAKING NEWS
Scarlett Davis, Miami’s most desired bachelorette, was seen out last night with Vince Hedman. Sorry, guys, it looks like the fiery CFO has hooked herself a Dolphin.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said, reading the headline several times before I clicked on the photos.
There were three. Two showed Vince and Scarlett holding hands as they walked in South Beach. The third was a shot of them kissing.
“Look at this shit.” I held the phone, so Brett could see the screen.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Did you know about this?”
“Fuck no.”
I got up from my desk. “I’m getting to the bottom of it right now.”
I went down the short hallway until I reached Scarlett’s office. Her door was closed, but I could hear her on the phone. I stood there for a few seconds, and when she still hadn’t hung up, I knocked. Not waiting for a response, I went in, and she watched us walk toward her, the two of us sitting in front of her desk.
“Tell him I’m fucking pissed,” she barked into the phone. “Tell him I want his balls on a fucking stake, and that whoever took those goddamn photos was invading my privacy. You’ll be hearing from my attorney.” She slammed down the phone, took a breath, and smiled.
She was as ruthless as her three partners.
“Vince Hedman, huh?” I said.
“Oh God.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not you, too.”
“Were you going to tell us?” I asked.
“Were you going to tell me you were fucking Samantha Cole?” she came back with.
Brett laughed so goddamn hard.
So did I. “Touché, my friend.” I looked at Brett. “What the hell is going on at The Agency? You’re engaged to your own client.” I glanced at Scarlett. “You’re dating my quarterback. Who the fuck is next?”
“You and Max are off the market, so I think we’re good for a little while,” Brett said. “Scarlett, when did you start talking to Vince?”
“The night of the Super Bowl.” She smiled and nodded toward me. “I know it was the same night for you and Samantha. But you might want to fill Max in before he reads it in a celebrity alert and gets pissy, like the two of you just were.”
“There won’t be one,” I assured her. “No one gives a fuck about me, and Samantha isn’t a celebrity.”
“No one gives a fuck?” Scarlett mocked. “Have you forgotten about all the women who have tried to tame you over the years? The athletes, singers, and the actresses? When news gets out that you’re a taken man, I’d say a whole lot of bitches are going to care.”
My eyes shifted over to Brett. “Is she serious?”
He put his hands in the air. “Fuck if I know. I’m just glad it wasn’t my name in the alert this time. I’ve had way too many of those written about me.”
I shook my head. “I thought we promised no drama at The Agency?”
The two of them laughed.
“We signed twenty-two new clients today,” Scarlett said. “We’ve brought in over sixty million this month, and we have over two hundred agents applying to work here every week. I say we keep the alerts coming. It’s definitely good for business.”
20
Samantha
“We’re only going to be here for a few minutes,” I said to Lucy as the doorman escorted us to James’s private elevator. “Then, we’ll go and get some ice cream and then pedicures.” Lucy and I stepped inside the small space, and I thanked him before the door closed, the elevator immediately taking off for the penthouse.
“I really want cookie dough ice cream,” she squealed.
“I want strawberry.” I gently dragged my fingers through the front of her hair, her strands long and dark like mine. “I’ll be super quick in here, I promise. I just have to drop off these designs, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“I’m going to miss you tonight, but I can’t wait to see Grandma and Grandpa again.”
I was so thankful she had such a strong relationship with my parents.
“Grandma told me she’s making your favorite for dinner.”
She jumped up and down. “Spaghetti! Yay!”
As a single working mother, I always felt guilty when I had to leave her with my parents or a sitter during the evening, but I cherished our little dates when we went for ice cream and pedicures. She called them Lucy Days. And I especially needed one right now.
James’s request had changed my plans a little. She’d called while I was picking Lucy up from school; she said she was flying home tonight and wanted to review the revised sketches as soon as she landed. Since they were boards, I couldn’t email them; therefore, they had to be dropped off. James told me no one would be at her condo until this evening, so the doorman would let me into their elevator, and I was to leave the designs in the kitchen.
I never took Lucy on appointments, but because no one was home, I figured this one would be safe.
The elevator door slowly opened, and I walked into James’s condo. “Stay right next to me, baby,” I said, “and try not to touch anything.”
Every few steps, I glanced in her direction, watching her eyes widen as she took in the view.
Lucy had been in nice homes before. Shawn’s was absolutely stunning. His just didn’t overlook downtown Miami from one of the highest buildings in the city, nor did it have a long stretch of ocean where boats were passing by. And, even though the little place we lived in was so close to here, our view was of another building with a strip of retail stores below.
“Wow,” she said as she moved over to the windows.
“Baby, don’t put your fingers on the glass.”
I turned the corner, making my way toward the kitchen, holding the designs in my hands. I was so proud of the changes I’d made, and I had a feeling they were going to love them. Once the additions were approved, I would start working on fabrics and finishes, getting down to the details of each room.
“Mommy, look at the boat.”
I took a quick glance behind me, trying to see what she was pointing at, but as I did, I heard, “Samantha,” spoken in Brett’s tone.
My attention was immediately pulled away from my daughter, and I looked to my right where Br
ett was walking down the hallway.
His eyes connected with mine, and my feet stopped moving.
“Brett, hi, ummm…James asked me to drop off the updated designs. She said no one would be home, so I didn’t know you were here.” I was so caught off guard, I was rambling.
“It’s no problem,” he said. “I just got home a little while ago.” He nodded toward Lucy. “Who’s this?”
I waited for her to join my side before I said, “This is my daughter, Lucy.”
He stuck his hand out, his eyes fixed on her. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is Mr. Young,” I told her. “He’s one of my clients. Can you say hi to him?”
She took his hand and even gave him a little bow. “Hi, I’m Lucy. Fancy to meet you.”
God, I love that kid.
I was positive my brother had taught her that when he was feeling like being a smart-ass. But Lucy was unique, creative, extremely independent, and the fanciness really fit her.
“Here are the designs,” I said, handing him the boards.
He took them from me, but his eyes never left Lucy, his lids even squinting like he was really checking out her features.
And then I watched an expression wash over his face. It moved from his mouth to his stare.
He had put it together. I knew for sure when his gaze shifted over to me, and he said, “I thought she was a toddler. We both did.”
My heart was beating so hard, I swore, he could hear it.
I wrapped my arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “No, she’s seven.”
I called her my little girl, my baby. Is that why Brett thinks that, which means Jack thinks that, too?
“I’m seven and a half, Mommy,” Lucy said.
In any other situation, her response would have been cute. Brett probably would have laughed, and I’d have, too. But I was sure hearing her age only confirmed what he had already suspected.
“Her eyes,” he said.
In that moment, I knew exactly what he was referring to.
They looked identical to Jack’s.
There was no reason to deny it at this point. After this evening, the secret would be out.
I took a breath. “Lucy, why don’t you go back over to the window and see how many boats you can count?”
After she skipped to the glass, I whispered to Brett, “I’m telling him tonight.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Samantha.” He glanced at Lucy again and then back to me. “You’re definitely going to do it tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re putting me in a hell of a situation right now.” He tugged on the ends of his hair before his hand dropped to his side. “I won’t lie to him, so if he doesn’t know by tomorrow morning, I will tell him.”
“He has to hear it from me,” I said softly, reinforcing that he needed to wait and not say anything before I spoke to Jack. “Please, Brett, trust me when I say, I’m going to tell him.”
He nodded.
I called Lucy over and said, “Are you ready to go get ice cream, baby?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Please tell James she can call me anytime to discuss the new additions.” I then looked down at my daughter. “Can you say good-bye to Mr. Young?”
She put her hand in the air, and she gave him a high five. “See ya later, alligator.”
“After a while crocodile,” Brett said, winking at her.
Then, we made our way toward the elevator and got inside.
When it closed, Lucy slipped out from under my arm, and she faced me. “I counted nine boats, Mommy.”
“That’s so great, baby,” I told her, trying to hide the emotions from showing on my face, but inside, my body was revolting.
That never should have happened.
I shouldn’t have brought her here.
And I shouldn’t have put anyone in a situation where they had to make a connection between my daughter and her father.
The last thing I wanted was to hurt Jack, and Brett finding out first jeopardized that.
“What color toes are you getting, Mom?”
I couldn’t continue looking at her while I was feeling this vulnerable, so I pulled my phone out of my bag and clicked on the screen. “Hold on a second, baby. I have to send a quick message.”
Me: James’s fiancé just met Lucy. He recognized her eyes and put two and two together. If I don’t tell Jack by the morning, he’s going to do it.
Anna: The positive news is that you’re going to tell Jack, so he won’t have to.
Me: I can’t breathe.
Anna: Yes, you can. And you can do this.
Me: You have too much faith in me.
Anna: I just know what you’re capable of, and you’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re going to handle this, too. You just have to get through tonight, and you will.
Me: Okay.
Anna: Call me after you drop off Lucy. And don’t forget to breathe.
21
Jack
I never asked Samantha what she felt like eating for dinner, but I knew I wasn’t in the mood for anything fancy. All I wanted was to throw some substance down my throat, strip her clothes off, climb on top of the island, and have her sit on my fucking face. So, instead of messing around with appetizers and utensils and sides, I just ordered some pizza.
The doorman brought the cheese and pepperoni pies up a few minutes before Samantha arrived. When I was alerted that she was in the lobby, I grabbed two beers out of the fridge and brought them into the foyer where she was just stepping out of the elevator. Holding the bottles in one hand, I used the other to pull her toward me, crashing my lips onto hers.
I breathed her in, realizing how much I’d missed her smell since this morning, how much I’d craved her body, how just the feel of her made everything about today so goddamn perfect.
But, after a few seconds, something felt off.
She wasn’t warm.
Her hands weren’t on me.
Her body was stiff as hell.
I pulled back and handed her the beer. “You all right?”
She shook her head.
“Take a drink,” I told her.
She looked at the bottle and gave it back to me. “I can’t, Jack.”
I did a quick scan, trying to see if I could tell what was wrong. She wasn’t put together like she normally was. Her hair was on top of her head in a messy knot, she had on a pair of yoga pants, and she wasn’t wearing makeup. She wasn’t crying now, but her puffy eyes told me she had been.
She was still hot as fuck, but something didn’t feel right.
Neither did her puffy eyes.
She wasn’t crying now, but I could tell she had been.
My hand went to her waist, my thumb rubbing over the side of her navel. “Tell me what’s going on, baby. Is Lucy okay?”
She stood frozen, her stare not moving from mine, her lips sealed shut.
I didn’t know where this coldness was coming from.
After our talk last night, I’d forgiven her. I understood that she wanted to keep her daughter separate from the men she dated. I hadn’t made a big issue of it, so it couldn’t be that.
What could have happened between then and now?
“I can’t do this when you’re touching me.” She gripped my fingers and pulled them off her.
“Do what?”
“Talk to you.”
What the fuck?
Since she didn’t want me near her, I turned and walked into the kitchen, setting her beer on the counter and holding mine near my mouth. “Talk.”
She followed me, staying on the other side of the island where she’d eaten last night, where I’d kissed her, where I’d lifted her off the stool and carried her to my bed. But, now, I watched the emotions ripple across her face. Both arms wrapped around her stomach, and her skin was becoming pale.
“Samantha, what the fuck is wrong?”
I couldn’t just stand here. I had to do somethin
g. I had to make this better. I had to let her know that, whatever she was feeling, I could fix. But, to do that, I had to be close to her, so she could feel the truthfulness in my words.
I went to move around the island, and she put up her hand to stop me.
“Stay there,” she said. “At least until I get this out.” Her fingers dropped to the counter, and she gripped the edge, her chest moving so goddamn fast as she breathed. “I don’t know how to do this.” Her voice was so fucking soft. “I’ve been rehearsing this over and over again in the car and on the phone with Anna and while I walked over. And, now, I’m here and…”
Who the fuck is Anna? What the hell is she talking about?
She finally looked at me, and the pain in her eyes stabbed my chest. “I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know where to even begin.”
“At the beginning. That’s where you start, but first”—I pointed at the stool—“you need to sit down.”
If she didn’t take a seat, I feared she was going to fall.
She pulled the stool out and set her ass on top of it. It looked like the movement exhausted her. “I have something to tell you, Jack. And I don’t want you to say a word until I’m done.”
I stepped forward until the counter was hitting my waist and held on to my beer with both hands. I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t think it was going to be good. “I’m listening.”
22
Samantha
Regret made it hurt to breathe.
It made everything shake.
It made everything tighten inside my body.
I was looking into the face of this beautiful man, whom I had loved for the last eight years, and I knew my deception and my confession were going to alter the course of the rest of his life.
So, I continued to hold the counter. I rocked back and forth over the stool. And I took as deep of a breath as I could, knowing it might be the last time in a while when my throat wasn’t fully restricted.
“I was just a kid,” I started with. “Nineteen years old. Fearless. Unaware of consequences. Just having the time of my life. I knew how to get good grades, how to make friends, how to drink all night and still make it to an eight o’clock class. That was who I was when I met you.”