“If there was something I needed to know, you’d tell me?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Finn’s father?” he asks, holding my eyes. “If you never had sex for pleasure, and it wasn’t work, then . . .?”
A rush of fear shoots through me, causing my whole body to tremble. How could I have screwed up so badly? My lies are getting harder and harder to keep up with. The truth wants out, but I can’t tell him the truth. And I can’t say what I really want to say—that he’s more a father to Finn than anyone.
He pulls me into his arms. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it now.”
“What about your father?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
“Let me tell you about my father and my childhood. I spent it cleaning up his messes. Literally, I would have to clean up empty bottles of alcohol from his drinking binges. Get a cab for the women the next morning when they’d wake up, and he’d be gone already. Listen to them cry, regretting what happened. Listen to them praying they weren’t pregnant. When I saw you that night at the party, all I knew was that I couldn’t let you end up like that. I just couldn’t. I was a jerk and a dick, but it was only because I felt this need to protect you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
*
“Where the heck are my clothes?” I ask myself, dripping wet from the shower. I could’ve sworn I brought them into the bathroom with me. Slade’s bathroom is like everything else about this man—big. The tub, the shower, the vanity, it all looks like it’s made for a small village, not one man.
Drying off, I study myself in the mirror, the cuts and bruises making me look like I’ve been in battle. I’m used to my scars being hidden on the inside. My knees and legs got the worst of it, but it’s my eyes that I can’t stand to look at. I’m a liar.
Some people think it’s never okay to lie. I say those people must’ve had a damn good life. They probably never had to lie about where their bruises came from or tell someone they weren’t hungry when they hadn’t had a meal in days. For some of us, lying equals surviving.
I came clean to Slade about a lot of things, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I may not be a prostitute, but I’m a criminal just the same. There are things Slade doesn’t know. Things he can never know.
My reasons don’t matter, I still broke the law, and if I’m caught, Slade could get caught in the crossfire. I don’t want that to happen; he’s so good to Finn and to me. I don’t want to let him go. He’s one of the few good things in my life.
I run my fingers through my wet hair. It’s midmorning already, and I need to get back to the ranch and see if anything can be salvaged. As soon as Finn gets up from his nap, we’ll go. I’m not sure how I’m going to get anything done with him, but maybe Catrine can watch him. She shouldn’t be in that mess either. Pushing open the door to Slade’s bedroom, I see my bag resting on the bed and begin digging through it. I really must have been out of it yesterday. It’s just a hodgepodge of items. I pull out the one bra and single pair of panties I packed.
“Paige,” Slade says from the doorway.
“Hmm,” I say, continuing to dig through my bag to pull together something that doesn’t make me look like a hobo.
“You’re standing in my bedroom in nothing but a towel.”
I flash him a smile over my shoulder. “I’m all covered up.”
“Not for long,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and lowering me to the bed. Giggling, I hold the top of my towel up. His warm breath on my neck, he whispers, “Finn’s napping. What do you need?”
Apparently, this is now our little code phrase for sex.
“To get to work,” I say, pushing him back playfully.
He pulls me down on top of him in the bed. “I think you might need something else.”
Tilting my head to the side like I’m thinking hard, I bite my bottom lip. “I need to take care of you.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asks, grinning up at me.
“I thought we’d start with…” I lean over, letting my breath tickle his neck. “You eating a salad for lunch.”
He smacks my ass hard. “Tease.”
Planting a quick peck on his lips, I get to my feet. He stands up, gently running his fingers through my hair. “Any word from the contractor on how long to repair the damages?” I ask.
His head shakes. “I’m meeting him out there later.”
“Then I should get out there and get the rest of our things. Salvage what can be saved.”
“You should rest today,” he says.
My eye roll lets him know that’s not happening. “I’ll go as soon as Finn gets up.”
He releases a huge breath. The man hates not getting his way. “If you have to go, just go now. I’ll bring Finn out with me when I come.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re kidding?”
*
Donning rubber boots and carrying a box of salvageable items, I walk through the house, willing a text, a phone call, something back from Slade. He hasn’t been in touch at all, despite my dozen texts checking on him and Finn. What was I thinking leaving him alone with a baby? He’s never changed a diaper. He only held a baby for the first time a few weeks ago.
I place the box outside next to a couple others that need to go to Slade’s house in the city. The parts of the house that weren’t affected by the storm are being sealed off, and the broken front window has already been boarded up, so the house is secure. The entire kitchen and den areas will be gutted due to wind and water damage. I’ve only got one more set of cabinets to look through before finishing up. All the electronic equipment was ruined. I managed to save a few books, but not much else.
A whole crew of people is here cleaning up and assessing the damage. Walking back into the house, I can’t help but overhear how the beautiful floors need to be replaced, all the cabinetry, how they have to safeguard against mold.
“Some of the wiring is shot,” one man says. “The whole security system, cameras. Everything needs to be replaced.”
“Cameras?” I ask, turning to him.
“Security cameras,” he says. “They cover basically the whole exterior and interior of the house, except the bedrooms and bathrooms.”
He lied to me. That night when I asked how he knew I watched the Cooking Channel, he lied. I asked specifically about cameras, and he said there weren’t any . . . no. Come to think of it, he never said there weren’t. He simply dodged my question. Damn him!
He should’ve told me. Okay, so maybe that’s not fair. It’s his house. It’s his right to have cameras. I know lots of people do—to watch their babysitter, their teenagers, or just monitor the comings and goings around their house. And I doubt any of those people inform the help that they’re being watched. It’s not like he saw me on the toilet or anything.
Still, I thought I was alone. He could’ve been watching me. What’s the worst he saw? Me watching television? Crawling on the floor with Finn?
I could make a big deal out of this, and even though it hurts, he didn’t fess up to it, so I’m not going to ruin what we just started by blowing this out of proportion.
Decision made. Time to get back to work.
I squat down, the floor still damp, and begin pulling out various items—ice bucket, throw blanket, an old VCR, and what I think is an original Nintendo—but they’re all ruined.
Tilting my head to look inside, I notice something pushed back in the corner. I can see the edge is wet, but reach for it anyway. It’s a canvas. The writing on the back says, Mommy and Slade (Age 2).
I flip it over, and his sapphire eyes shoot right out at me like they are leaping off the canvas. Even at two years old, his eyes were captivating. His head is tilted to the side, resting on his mother’s chest. One of her hands is in his hair and the other on his back as she looks down at him. I can tell from the photo she was beautiful with long dark hair, pale skin, and beautiful eyes, though not the same eyes as her little boy.
>
He looks completely loved and at peace in her arms. I wonder if he ever feels that way anymore. I carry it out into the sunlight. The edges are damaged, but the feeling in the photo is very much intact.
Slade is a big man. It’s surreal to see him so tiny in his mother’s arms. It makes me wonder what Finn will look like. Someday, he’ll be taller than me, bigger than me, stronger than me. I’m raising a man and have no idea what I’m doing.
I hear a door slam and look up, seeing Slade pulling Finn out of his car seat. Rushing to them, I say, “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick.”
“Call you? How was I supposed to call you? How do you get anything done with this kid other than holding him, feeding him, and playing with him? I haven’t even pissed since you left,” he says, laughing, but I know it’s true.
“How’d it go?” I ask, taking Finn in my free arm and giving him some love.
“We’re both alive,” Slade jokes, kissing the side of my head. “It’s a success. How are things here?”
I exhale, looking back at the house. “I’ve got a few things packed up to take back, but most everything from the kitchen and den is ruined,” I say, holding up the canvas. “Except this. I found it in the cabinet in the den. It’s a little wet, but I think it can be saved.” He just stares at it blankly, his eyes a dark pit. “It’s your mom and you, right?”
He takes it from me and walks a few feet away without a word.
“Slade,” I say, touching his arm to stop him. “I’m sorry if the picture upsets you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You thought my dead mother would, what? Make me happy?”
“No, I just . . .”
“Not now,” he barks.
I stand there for a second—stunned but not sure why. I’ve never been able to count on anyone, much less a man, so why did I expect Slade to be different? But I did.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d react this way. I thought you’d be happy it wasn’t ruined,” I say. Walking away from him, I head to the stables to see the horses, to see for myself that Whiskey is alright.
I hold Finn a little tighter, wiping my face. Too much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I need to give myself some space to think about things.
The stables held up well in the storm. It’s a mess but sustained no real damage. The guys have been here all day getting things back into shape and working to calm the horses. I find my spot by Whiskey’s door, leaning my head down. He walks right over, letting me pet him. Whoever came up with therapeutic horseback riding was really onto something. I feel my heart rate easing up with each stroke.
“Hey,” Clay says, coming up beside me, stroking Finn’s arm.
Finn reaches out to him. Finn is a very friendly baby, but maybe he’s starved for male attention or something. He seems to love any attention from his fellow sex, so I go ahead and let Clay hold him.
“I tried to call you over and over again the night of the storm,” Clay says. “I was so worried about you.”
“My phone died,” I say, not really looking at him.
“I’m a jerk. I shouldn’t have ignored you,” he says. “It’s just, Slade’s my boss, and I need this job.”
“It’s okay.”
He elbows me slightly. “I should’ve told him to go to hell.”
“Me, too,” I say, smiling.
We stand there talking for a while, catching up. I’m not sure if I should, but I tell him that my relationship with Slade has changed. I don’t give any other details, but he gets the idea. And he seems okay with it. He makes me promise that I’ll let him give me my first riding lesson soon and tells me to call him if I need anything or want to hang out since I won’t be around as much while repairs are being done. I tell him about a couple of classes I’m thinking of taking next semester, and he seems happy for me, just like a friend should be.
Clay looks over his shoulder, a worried crease in his brow as Slade appears in the opening of the stable. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him,” I say.
Clay laughs, handing Finn back to me. “See you later.”
I walk toward Slade, who’s holding his ground. Stubborn asshole refuses to walk over to me. Well, I’ll show him. I walk right past him, seeing him smirk at me out of the corner of my eye. I hear him following me and turn around, halting him. I hate the amused look on his face. “Two words,” I say. “I only want to hear two words come out of your mouth.”
“Which two?” he asks, clearly thinking he’s funny.
“Try again.” Finn starts to squirm, wanting to get down and have some freedom. Slade takes him from me, kneeling so Finn’s feet are touching the grass. He holds him there, like Finn’s standing on his own. Finn’s feet are moving all around as he giggles. I hope this isn’t an indication that he’s going to walk early.
Slade’s blue eyes look up at me. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t talk about my mom.”
“You can just tell me that. You don’t have to be an asshole.”
“You’re right,” he says.
I flash him a smile. “Those are the two words every woman loves to hear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SLADE
Sidestepping debris, I survey the house with Jon. The initial timeframe for repairs is four to six months. Apparently, the water damage is the real killer. Doesn’t matter if you get one inch or a foot, still have to repair sheetrock, guard against mold, and redo floors and cabinetry. Since we’re trying to maintain the building’s original character, everything will have to be custom. It’s going to be a major hassle, costly, and keep me in the city for most of the rest of the year.
“Contractor hopes to have you in for Christmas,” Jon says, picking up one of Finn’s toys that’s now ruined and handing it to me, an I told you so look in his eyes.
Christmas? I look down at the broken toy in my hand, realizing I don’t know Finn’s birthday. Will he be one by Christmas? Will he like Santa? I haven’t had a tree since I was a kid. I’ll have to get one this year. A big one.
Without a word to Jon, I walk to the door, seeing Paige changing Finn’s diaper in the back of my car. They never advertised that as a feature when I bought the Land Rover. I guess it can handle a diaper change. “Paige,” I call out. Her head turns to me. “Will Finn be one at Christmas? When’s his birthday?”
Her smile is priceless. “December first.”
“Planning his party already,” I say, giving her a little wink.
“You’ve had a lot of practice recently,” she says, finishing up and walking toward me.
“Construction theme?” I say, shrugging.
She laughs, Finn following her lead, and I wrap my arm around her, stopping her from coming back into the house with Finn. Jon joins us outside. “I know Catrine was supposed to work until the baby comes, but if it’s okay with you, I’d . . .”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I understand. This is a mess. The last thing I need is Catrine stepping on a nail or tripping. Tell her to enjoy her last few days of sleep.”
“I will,” Jon says, then looks at Paige. “Stay in touch with her?”
“I will,” she says as Jon leaves.
“Why don’t you and Finn go back, too?” I say to her. “Finn doesn’t need to be out here, and you’re still recovering. I’ll just be an hour or so.” She nods. “Jon’s right. I’d rather you and Finn not be out here either,” I say. “I know you want to oversee things, but . . .”
“My job is the house,” she says firmly. “The stables.”
“You can mail the guys their checks from Nashville. You don’t need to be out here to do that.”
“You mean from your place?” she asks.
“Four to six months, Paige,” I say. “You can’t live in a hotel that long.”
“You pay me enough that I could rent something for a few months,” she says. “That is, if I still have a job.”
“Of course you have a job,” I say.
“What’s my job?” she asks. “
Writing a few checks each week?”
“It’s just temporary,” I say, taking Finn from her. “You can take classes. You said you wanted to.”
“I need to work,” she says.
“No, you don’t.”
“So you want me to live with you?”
“Of course.”
“Go to school?” she asks.
“Yes, if that’s what you want.”
“Which I’m assuming you want to pay for?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
“And you’re still going to pay me for a job I’m not doing anymore?”
“Think of it like a severance package,” I say. “But yes.”
“Isn’t that basically what your father was offering me?”
Fuck, I stepped right into that one. How could she possibly think this is the same thing? I hate being compared to my father, but I don’t want to fight with her. Blowing out a deep breath, I say, “You’re the one thinking about it that way, not me.”
She looks away, taking Finn’s little hand in hers. “If I’m still going to be on your payroll, I need to feel like I deserve it,” she says.
“Well, I’m not going to fire you,” I say, tilting her chin up. “I suppose it would help me to have someone making sure shit gets done out here.”
“I can do that,” she says, her whole face brightening. “You’ve been on the receiving end of my airplane veggies. You know how tough I can be.”
Shaking my head and smiling, I know I’m fighting a losing battle. “Okay, but I’m having a trailer put out here. You can use that as your office.” Her smile gets bigger. “But at night . . .”
“Finn and I will stay with you,” she says, giving me what I really wanted.
*
Their two laughs blend, filling the rooms in my penthouse like air. Following the sound, I find the door open to the master bathroom. “Paige?” I call out, not wanting to scare her.
“In here,” she says.
Stepping into the bathroom, I find Paige and Finn in my bathtub, covered in bubbles. I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said they sometimes bathe together. This is hardly the image I had in mind when I first saw Paige naked. Of course with all the bubbles, I can’t really see anything anyway.
The Right Side of Wrong Page 13