Most of my childhood memories aren’t good. I wonder what that means, what your first memories say about you. How would I be different if my memories were of laughter, love, and happiness? I don’t have those, but Finn will.
Of course, I’m aware this could just be some sort of setup. It is too good to be true, but I have to risk it for Finn. I’ll just keep my guard up.
Walking behind him, I notice how tall and broad Slade is. It’s been a long time since I’ve noticed a man like this. When you’re worried about where your next meal will come from, that tends to cut down on your man ogling time.
“What is it you do, exactly?” I ask.
“Real estate development, mostly,” he says, pausing for a second. “And breed a few of the horses.”
So he basically buys land, develops it into things he thinks we need, then either sells it or sits back and rakes in the profits. “But you stay in the city during the week?”
He nods. “I’m here most weekends. But I don’t expect you to wait on me or cook for me. Since you’ll be living here, there aren’t set hours. I just expect shit to get done. When it’s done, then your time is yours. Use the pool, ride if you want, whatever. But know that if I need something, then I expect you to drop what you’re doing and be there.”
“I understand,” I say, catching his eyes again. “I was wondering. Why are you doing this?”
“You don’t trust people, do you?” he asks, holding my gaze.
“It’s been my experience that it’s best not to.”
“Mine, too,” he says quietly, his eyes roaming my face.
“So why?” I push. “I’m no one to you. Why go to all this trouble to help me?”
“Did you ever consider I’m not doing it for you?”
Finn? I guess it would be hard for anyone to see a baby grow up the way we were living. Still, most people would just hand you a dollar and move on.
“The reason isn’t important,” he says.
I guess he’s right, but I still want to know. Something tells me now is not the time to push the issue, so it’s probably best to let it go. What does it matter anyway? “When do I start?”
“Now,” he says.
“Now?” I say, unable to hide the shock in my voice. “But my stuff. I need to pack up my things and forward my mail. Tell my neighbors. That kind of thing.”
“Jon will arrange to get your things brought over. I don’t want you going back there,” Slade says.
“I need to let them know where I am,” I say.
“The hooker on the fourth floor keeps track of your movements?”
This man can’t seem to decide if he wants to be a nice guy or a complete dickhead. But he does have a point. It’s not like I have concerned neighbors or even friends. Poverty and single motherhood take away time from friends, as well as admiring the opposite sex. “I’ll just call who I need to,” I say. The rent is month to month, so I don’t have to worry about breaking a lease or anything. People come and go all the time. But I will need to call the few people I do work for, like the day care, and let them know I’ve found other employment. It’s always best to leave on good terms in case you need to come crawling back. And I’ve got no idea how this thing with Slade is going to go.
“Anything else?” he asks. “Questions? Catrine will be back tomorrow to help with the transition.”
I want to look confident, so I smile brightly. “Thank you,” I say. “The room. The stuff for Finn. That was really very sweet.”
He simply nods and walks straight back inside the house.
*
I have to check the garage to see if Slade’s even still here. This is going to take some getting used to.
The quiet.
I was right. The nighttime sounds different for the rich.
Finn is down for the night. At least, I hope so. He’s usually a good sleeper, but being in a new place might mess him up. My stuff has already arrived. There wasn’t much—a few boxes of clothes and shoes, toiletries, books, and toys. I had Jon donate the furniture and what few kitchen items I had. It was all pretty much garbage, anyway. I wasn’t going to pay to have it stored somewhere. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I realize I’m starving. I haven’t eaten. It just feels weird to go in Slade’s refrigerator and eat something that I didn’t buy myself.
Luckily, I had baby food in the diaper bag for Finn to eat for dinner and enough formula. But I definitely have to hit the grocery up tomorrow. Placing the monitor down on the island, I rest my hand on my stomach when it lets out a loud growl. I’m being silly because he told me to make myself at home.
I wonder if that includes the use of his computer. My phone is so basic it doesn’t even have internet. With my new salary, I just might be able to take a night class here and there. I need to check to see what’s being offered next semester and the cost, class time, etc. I’ll ask Catrine tomorrow about internet and computer use. If I’m going to ask for that, I should at least be able to eat a piece of fruit or something. I open the refrigerator. There’s actually not much there—a few eggs, juice, yogurt.
I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Even if we weren’t the only adults in the house, I know the sound of the weight of his body already.
“Anything good in there?” he asks.
I hold the door open a little wider. “Not from the looks of it.”
“Damn,” he says, leaning in over my shoulder to take a look. His body towers over mine, so close I can smell the faint scent of his shampoo. “You should know this about me. I like my food. Meat and potatoes. None of this salad and yogurt shit.”
I can’t help it and start laughing. “Good thing I’m not in charge of cooking for you. I’d make you eat your vegetables.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he says as if daring me.
“I happen to do a very good airplane impersonation. It works wonders in the infancy crowd,” I say, trying to make sure my voice doesn’t sound flirty. Flirting with the boss isn’t part of the job. It doesn’t matter how handsome he is.
“Christ, you’re going to fill my fridge with green shit, aren’t you?”
“Yep, and you’re going to love it.”
Shaking his head, he opens the freezer portion. I swear I see his lip pout at the lack of beef inside. It reminds me of Finn when I don’t get his bottle made fast enough. Guess all men are the same.
I grab the carton of eggs. “I was just about to make myself some eggs. Want some?”
“I meant what I said. I don’t expect you to wait on me.”
“I’m making them anyway,” I say. “It’s no extra work.”
“Fried or scrambled,” he says, trying to hide his smile. “None of that hard-boiled stuff.”
“Scrambled,” I say.
“In butter?”
“Not likely.”
He groans. “Tell me there’s bacon.”
“Didn’t see any,” I say, getting started on the eggs. “I’ll run to the store tomorrow. Why don’t you make me a list?”
He starts moving things around in the refrigerator in a desperate hunt for bacon. “I’m heading back to the city tomorrow, so just get what you need. Catrine has the credit card for the house and will show you how to do the checks and stuff.”
I give him a little nod, watching him kneel to look in the bottom of the freezer. It looks like he’s literally praying for pork. While he’s distracted, I grab some green onions, quickly cutting them up and tossing them in the eggs. “Where are the plates?” I ask.
He gets up, reaching into a cabinet for two plates and handing them to me. “Drink?” he asks, taking down two glasses, as well.
“Just water,” I say.
He pours the drinks, placing them down on the island, then reaches for forks and rips off a couple of paper towels from the roll by the sink. “Tell me you aren’t one of those people who uses paper towels as napkins?” I tease.
He glances down at his place settings. “They’re the same things.”
“No vege
tables, and now this?” I say, scooping the eggs onto the plates.
He rolls his eyes at me, and I place the eggs down in front of him. Immediately, he starts to move the eggs around on his plate like a kid trying to avoid eating his food. “What’s this green shit in my eggs?”
I burst out laughing. “Didn’t you like Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss?”
“Maybe if I had the ham.”
“Just try it.”
“You’ve been in the house less than a day, and look what’s happened already.” He lifts the fork, smelling it, then closes his eyes and takes a slow bite.
“Yes, it’s all part of my clandestine plan to make you eat green.” He looks over at me, surprise in his blue eyes. “It’s good, right?”
Smiling, he shoves a huge bite in. “Yeah, not bad.”
I take a little bite, watching in amazement at how fast this man can eat. “I was wondering if there’s a computer I can use?” I ask quietly.
Without looking up, he says, “The Wi-Fi password is . . .”
“No, I need a computer. I don’t have one, and my phone only calls and texts.” He looks up, and for once, he’s speechless. He has no idea what it means to be poor, and I had it better than most—a roof over my head, no matter the chipped paint. “I only want to use it for school. But if it’s a problem, I can just go to the library and use one there.”
“Paige,” he says softly. It’s the first time he’s used my name today, and it comes out with a tenderness I wasn’t expecting. His head shakes. “Catrine will show you the computer. You’re welcome to use it. You’re in school?”
“Well, no, not right now. I had to take a break with Finn and everything, but I want to go back. I’m about halfway to getting my bachelor’s.”
“What did you study?”
“Nursing.” I take a deep breath, revving up for the monologue that’s coming. “Originally, I wanted to go to med school, but it takes a long time, so I was thinking I’d get my nursing degree, then maybe go back in a few years and . . . I was actually hoping to maybe take a night class next semester if that’s alright. I could leave Finn with a sitter. Not here, of course. Maybe just take one class. That’s why I wanted the computer, to see what’s being offered. I promise it wouldn’t interfere with my work here. It’s probably stupid to bring this up on my first day. It’s just with the salary you’ll be paying me, I can finally afford to take some classes again.” I stop to take a breath, quickly opening my mouth to continue my argument, but he simply holds up his hand.
“You just started working here, and this is what you’re thinking about?” he asks.
Of course, he’s right. I should be thinking about this job, not bettering myself to leave this job. Getting to my feet, I start to stress clean. You know, when you clean to avoid? “Forget I said anything. I should’ve waited.”
The baby monitor lights up with a deafening scream. Without looking back, I leave my plate in the sink and head toward my room. “New place. He’s probably a little confused about where he is. I’ll clean up first thing in the morning.”
I don’t give him time to respond before rushing to my room.
CHAPTER THREE
SLADE
This has to be one of the strangest nights I’ve ever had with a woman. She gets me to eat green shit, berates my choice of napkin, then rushes off to a screaming baby. What the hell am I doing?
I’ve been asking myself that same question ever since I saw her walk in on my father’s arm. One look at her and no way in hell was that happening. I’ve watched my father’s parade of women most of my life, and I’ve mostly kept my opinions to myself. What a man does in his bedroom is his business. If the woman is willing, and the man is willing, then I don’t give a fuck, but one glimpse of Paige changed all that.
She’s beautiful, all my father’s women are, but none of them has ever made my head turn, my heart skip a beat, and my dick stand up and take notice. Even as I approached her that night, I had no idea what I was doing other than saving her from my father. I could’ve left it at that, but instead, I went to her shithole of an apartment. Then the job offer and shopping for Finn.
I don’t do all that for a woman because she’s hot as fuck. She is, but that’s beside the point. I don’t do serious relationships. And I’ve certainly never done anything like this before.
Love at its best is fleeting; at its worst, it’s a weapon.
Even if I wanted to take that bullet, Paige is almost ten years younger than me, was with my father, and appears as gun-shy about love as I am. I’ve never done the whole love thing. Luckily, the woman usually waits for the man to be the first to make such a declaration. For most women, there’s a time limit on when a guy should say it. If you’re approaching a year and haven’t uttered that word, the writing’s on the wall, which is fine by me. If you’re unlucky, and the woman happens to say it first, well, she’s signed her own pink slip.
I’ve lived my life by that. No falling in love. No big commitments like living together. Again, what the hell am I doing with this young single mother in my house?
All I know is that I want to protect her and Finn. The why isn’t important. I’m making up everything else as I go along.
I’ve always been the type who follows my gut, and I’ve never been afraid to take a risk. For the most part, it’s worked for me. You don’t get where I am in business at the age of thirty by playing it safe. But there’s risk, and there’s downright stupidity. And nothing can make a man more stupid than a woman.
Any reasonable person would think I’m insane for bringing Paige and Finn into my life and my house. Lucky for them, I live by my gut. Following instinct versus reason has landed me in hot water before, but those times are rare. If my mind and my gut disagree on the next course of action, I usually go with my gut. This is definitely one of those times.
“Finn.” I hear her voice and look down. She’s left the baby monitor in the kitchen. Reaching down to turn it off, I graze the button with my finger, but hearing her sweet voice stops me. “It’s okay. Shh!”
I know I shouldn’t listen. I should turn the damn thing off or, better yet, take it to her, but I don’t.
“What are we doing here, buddy?” she says quietly, the baby settling at her voice. “I promise I won’t mess this up. What was I thinking, asking about school so soon? No more of that. I need to be happy with what I’ve got. You, this job. That’s enough. That has to be enough. No more selfish dreams. I’ll save every penny. You won’t ever have to give up on your dreams or watch them die.”
I listen to her talk him to sleep, promising him over and over that she won’t mess this up, promising him a good life, a home. It’s a mantra. One I’m sure she’s said before. It’s the most selfless declaration of love I’ve ever heard.
Most “I love you’s” come with conditions. Forget what wedding vows say. The phrase “I love you” is always followed by an unspoken “if.” I love you if you stay beautiful. I love you if you provide for me. I love you if you don’t screw up. You’ll love me if I’m perfect. You’ll love me if I do what you say and want. The list is endless.
It’s a lie, a farce, a fucking fairy tale. I don’t plan on ever getting married, but if I did, my future wife would have to vow to love me when I’m an asshole. Don’t think there’s a woman alive ready to take on that life sentence, and I don’t blame her. Forever and women should not be thought of in the same sentence, but somehow, against all common sense, I have a young woman living in my house—a young single mother, to boot.
As soon as I saw her walk in on my father’s arm, something shifted inside me. It’s a wonder it wasn’t felt on the Richter scale. I’ve seen my father use women before—countless times. I never stepped in, never interfered. Paige is the first.
The decision was that quick. It almost wasn’t a decision at all. In business and in my personal life, that’s usually how I know I’ve done the right thing. If I can go to sleep at night without giving something another thought, it’s almo
st a guarantee I’ve done the right thing. The night I met Paige, I slept better than I have in years.
“We will be happy,” she says, and I know I’ll do anything in my power to make that possible. “Content.”
I hate that word, content. I know it’s about being happy with what you have and where you are, but if everyone lived that way, then nothing new would ever be discovered. What happened to drive and ambition? It’s obvious Paige has it, already looking forward to school and classes. That’s not someone who’s “content.” To be content is to accept your lot in life. I didn’t drag her out of that shithole of an apartment for her to be content.
I dragged her out of there so that I could be content, find peace, and maybe absolution. But so far, it’s not working.
*
Something happens to a man when he turns thirty. You go from most of your friends being single to being married or in serious relationships. I’m not saying there aren’t any single guys over thirty, but the numbers are dwindling. I’m in danger of extinction.
Even I now have a woman and baby living in my house. How the hell did that happen?
I didn’t stick around to try to figure it out and headed back to Nashville before the sun was even up. Work is always a good excuse.
No, babe, I can’t tonight—working.
Can’t stay the night—early meeting.
Those verses are in any single guy’s bible.
My phone rings, and I hit the button for the Bluetooth feature, hearing the biggest traitor of all’s voice. Jon is more than my employee. He’s my best friend and has been for as long as I can remember. We vowed to live the bachelor life, but that all went out the window the day he met Catrine. It’s actually my fault since I’m the one who introduced them. Twenty-one and he was a goner. It took him a little longer to lock it down, but I knew she was it for him before he even did.
Why is that?
Why can others see things so clearly about us before we can?
“Want to tell me what the hell all that was about yesterday?” Jon asks.
The Right Side of Wrong Page 3