by S. M. West
While my son tolerates kisses, he’d rather be off exploring, playing, or something else. And right now, I’m pretty sure all he’s thinking about is getting his hands on some food.
But the little guy relents, allowing the kiss, and he even rests his cheek against mine afterward. No sooner than I start to nuzzle him, he’s wriggling once more to be free.
I put him down and follow them to the doorway, stopping to lean against the frame. Two bedheads, hair in disarray, laugh and scamper out of sight.
Despite all the questions and heartache the past two days have been filled with, I’m at peace in this very moment. Things are right in my little bubble. No matter what happens, I have them and that’s all that matters.
I shower and dress, and once I’m in the kitchen, Gray takes off to do the same. He has to be in the studio by seven thirty and he has another long day. I use the time to rearrange my schedule and answer a text from my sister.
Pansy sensed something about me yesterday when I picked up Henry and she now wants to see me this afternoon. She’s worried and has time before class.
My insides spasm with nerves. I could hold her off, tell her nothing is wrong, and I even contemplated not saying anything about Costa unless I have to—if the test results prove he is telling the truth.
But as unsettling and mind-boggling as it is, each time I talk about it, a little more of the enormous and indecipherable ball in my stomach loosens or unravels.
Gray pads back into the kitchen, clean and sexy, smiling at me. “I’m going to see if I can get tomorrow off.”
“Why?” I stand from the chair, inching toward him.
“It’s tomorrow.” His unspoken words fall upon us like heavy pelts of freezing rain.
Yes, when the DNA test results are in.
“Gray, you’ve got the album. I can’t ask you to do that. India and Silas are going to lose it.” My thoughts fray, worrying about his obligations and the burden my problems only add.
“First of all, you’re not asking me to do anything. And…” He lowers his voice, leaning into me even though Henry couldn’t care less what we’re talking about.
He’s Picasso, creating his next masterpiece, fingers playing with his milk and Cheerios across the top of his highchair tray.
“I don’t want you driving yourself crazy, waiting and alone.”
“But the album… Look, you’re right. My concentration isn’t there right now, so I’ve moved things around on my schedule to allow for today and tomorrow.” My fingers trek the wing of the robin on his forearm. “And I won’t be alone. I’ve got Henry, and Pansy’s coming over later today. I’ll be busy. And tomorrow I’m going to look through the nanny applications and I’ll set up some interviews—”
“I want to look through them too. You aren’t alone in this. Let me help.” His finger rubs at the inside of my elbow, soothingly, and my insides quiver.
How does he do this to me with just a touch?
“Why don’t I look at them first and then share the ones I’ve selected for your thoughts?” I wrap a hand around his neck.
“I’m not promising anything. Let’s see how today goes, and I can always make my mind up later.”
“Gray.” My voice cracks and suddenly a surge of emotion overwhelms me.
Words can’t even begin to express how I feel about this man. His concern and caring for me, for my son… I can’t imagine doing this alone, or with anyone else.
“Yeah?” Traces of concern ring his words.
“Thank you.” My face buries into his warm, solid chest, and I’m wholly aware of his fresh, masculine scent.
His hold tightens and kisses the crown of my head, releasing a deep humming sound so like contentment. Before I lose all willpower and take up residence in his arms, I break away.
I’ve unwittingly invited his scrutiny as he cranes his head to study me, and I turn to Henry, running a hand through his short, soft tuffs of hair. My son smiles, soggy Cheerios sticking to his chin and hands.
Gray chuckles, and the simple sound of his delight infuses me with the same. He bends to say goodbye to Henry and then to me. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
The morning is uneventful, and for the most part, I get a fair amount of work done. After lunch and with Henry down for a nap, I wait for Pansy, and it’s in that brief time of nothingness that I find Costa’s words running rampant in my mind.
By the time my sister walks through the front door, I’m sick with anxiety and no longer eager to share the story. Intuitive as ever, Pansy senses my distress immediately.
“What’s wrong?” She drops her bag to the floor and sits next to me on the sofa. “Sorry I’m late. I forgot my notebook and had to double back for it. But I still have twenty minutes until I have to leave for class.”
I can’t look at her, my gaze down in my lap. Pansy and I haven’t always been close. Heck, no, we were never close, not until recently.
We’ve grown into a sisterly friendship only since I wound up on her doorstep pregnant and refusing to reach out to our older sister, Ivy. She’s a neurosurgeon and all-around perfect, albeit judgemental, person.
“Hey.” She softens her tone, rubbing at my arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I thought I could tell you…”
“Is it something to do with Gray? Is everything okay with you two? Or is it Henry?” Her tone is more urgent and insistent and I chastise myself for putting her through this torture.
Time to move past my hang-up and just tell her. “No. Gray and Henry are great. Well, in a roundabout way, this is about Henry.”
I settle into the couch, making eye contact with my sister, and tell her everything. As expected, there are times when she interjects with a question, a gasp, or a plain old head shake. It’s surreal, and seeing my sister’s reactions helps me accept that all I’m feeling is natural.
“Daze.” She clasps my hand in hers. “And you get the results tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any idea who the father is, if not Costa?”
“No.” Tears sting my eyes, and I don’t want to cry again.
“Daisy.” Pansy’s tone causes my insides to quiver, recognizing her all too compassionate yet somber voice. “Honey, you could have been sexually assaulted.”
All I can do is nod, pressing my lips together into a painful line, no longer able to hold back the tears. I haven’t been able to say it out loud. Shit, not Costa, Gray, nor Sasha has either but I’m sure we’ve all thought it.
“Yeah, it’s possible. I mean, there were so many moments where…there was always a party or an event…alcohol and drugs.”
Shame bitch slaps me across the face and I look away. The heat from my wild days, the carefree binges on alcohol or random hits of coke or who knows what else. It was everywhere and given freely, and I took my share.
“But I can’t think of a single moment where I felt violated. I know, it’s hard to believe when I just told you I may have been drinking or high.” The contempt for myself is hard to miss in my voice.
“Honey, don’t do that.” She slides her arm around me, bringing me into her body. “Having a good time at a party doesn’t mean you deserved to be assaulted and taken advantage of. Is it possible you were drugged?”
“What? Like the date rape drug?”
It had crossed my mind, but I had immediately killed the thought. Bile burns the back of my throat. I can’t consider what that means. That there was a predator among those I worked with and maybe even trusted.
“Yes.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears, but they refuse to go. I wasn’t a saint. I drank. I sometimes would do drugs. There was even a time or two where I passed out at parties. So, yeah, it was possible that I could have been drugged and would think no more of it than a horrible hangover.
“Oh my God.” I cover my hands over my face, ashamed and sick to think of my recklessness and how I made it easy for someone
to take advantage of me.
23
Daisy
Tick, tick, tick
“I’ll be back as early as possible tonight.” Gray’s stubbled cheek nuzzles mine as his tongue licks at the base of my ear, and I shiver, hands clasping his lean waist.
“It’s okay. Take your time.” As I say the words, I’m also dreading all those hours waiting for him once the results arrive.
Last night, we talked at length about how he’d only go into the studio today if I promised to wait for him to open the results. He would do the same with the email from the lab where he got another test done. We’d do it together.
At the time, it’s what I wanted, and it was a small concession, easy to agree to. I didn’t want to be alone when reading the results, but now, in the brightness of the day, can I wait for him? It could be several hours until he comes back.
“Love you.” His lips press onto my mouth, and he strolls into the living room to say goodbye to Henry.
I don’t have any plans for today other than to review the more than thirty nanny résumés the agency sent yesterday. Sasha is busy with work despite this trip being a vacation. Her agency booked her for two local campaigns since she’s considering moving to LA and putting down roots here.
Between playing with Henry and going through all the nanny applications, the time drags. I’ve spoken with the placement agency and arranged for four interviews with six more as potentials if none of the first four are a good fit.
Gray texts every couple of hours, and by the time Henry’s nap rolls around, I don’t know how I’m going to fill the time while he sleeps.
It takes everything not to go out of my mind, and that’s why I answer the call from Jerome, despite avoiding him. It’s something to do and I can’t keep putting it off.
“Hi.” I saunter into the kitchen to fix a tea.
“Finally, you answer the phone.” He’s exasperated and clipped. “Is the asshole nowhere near, is that why? Has he told you not to call me?”
I’m ticked that he thinks Gray or any man has that kind of hold on me, but I don’t care enough about him to set him straight.
“Jerome, don’t call Gray an asshole. If that’s how you’re going to talk about him, I’m hanging up.” I pour hot water from the kettle into the mug.
“Seriously?” He sounds incredulous. “That…that…he was beyond rude to me the other night, and you haven’t called me or responded to any of my texts since then.”
“I don’t know how to make this clearer but I’m dealing with a lot right now. And now isn’t a good time. Gray was looking out for my best interest.” Two fingers rub at the crease forming between my brows. “You need to back off.”
“Back off? What’s wrong?” There’s a hint of concern in his tone, but I’m not sure if it’s for me or for the fact he’s not in on my problems.
“I can’t model for your portfolio. I’m flattered that you want to work with me again, and I’m sorry I agreed to do it. At the time, I truly thought I could, but things have changed.”
With the tea in hand, I amble into the living room and sit in one of my oversized chairs. “I’m already behind with my current schedule and the future work coming in. I can’t fit it in, but I promise to get one or two top-tier models for you.”
“But, Daisy, I want you.”
I bite my bottom lip, holding in a curse. This man is beyond insistent, but I won’t back down. “You aren’t listening to me. I want you to succeed—I really do—but this is the only way I can support you.”
Silence on his end of the line gives me hope that I’m finally getting through to him.
“What’s going on with you?” His voice is calmer, maybe even more caring.
“Just things.”
“Daisy, we’re friends. I’m here for you. Talk to me.”
A sarcastic laughter threatens to break free from my throat, and it takes everything in me to lock it down. My friendship with Jerome has always been one-sided with his needs ahead of everything else.
His offer to help may be sincere, but I’m not sure he knows how to without getting something out of it. I’m not telling him about Costa. We don’t have that kind of relationship.
But, since this feels like he’s extending an olive branch, I should meet him halfway. If only so we can move past this.
“There’s a lot going on, and it’s getting harder without permanent care for Henry, so I need to hire a nanny.”
“Oh.” And that right there, that one dismissive word about sums it up. He couldn’t care less about my problems.
As an afterthought or maybe because he realizes how his response came across, he asks, “Can I help you in any way?”
“No, but thanks.”
“Okay. Do you want to go for a drink or dinner tonight?”
“No, I can’t. I have plans with Gray.”
“Oh. Well, call me when you can. I’m here for you.”
“I will. Thanks, Jerome.” The doorbell rings, and I hope he can hear it rather than think I am trying to get rid of him when I say, “Someone’s at the door and I’m expecting a delivery. I have to go.”
“All right. Bye.”
I drop the phone and march to the front door. It’s a delivery guy, holding out a letter sized envelope. “Daisy Dobson?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Please sign here.” He shoves a device into my hand, and I sign with my finger. “Here you go, and have a nice day.”
The return address is some lab in LA. The DNA results. It’s funny how something that’s barely a few ounces can feel like the weight of the world in my palm.
I could end the agonizing anticipation and rip this open right now. I’d have my answer, but I promised Gray I’d wait for him.
Back in the living room, I drop the envelope on the coffee table and sit across from it, staring.
It’s a bomb.
There’s no real sound emanating from the thing, but an incessant sound lives and breathes in my mind. The tick, tick, tick, chips away at my resolution.
Why did I agreed to wait?
24
Gray
Huddled in a corner
On the drive to Daisy’s, I try calling her again, but once more, it goes straight to voicemail. I am later than usual and glad I’d seen Henry this morning. Otherwise, I’d have tried harder to speak to Daisy, just to beg her to keep him up.
When I get to the house, I let myself in and I’m greeted by an eery silence. Even with Henry likely sleeping, Daisy always has music on. The quiet is ironically unsettling.
On my way down the hall, I pause at the kitchen. It’s a mess, and I survey the disaster. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it, let alone any other part of her house, like this.
The small table is littered with a crumpled takeout bag, and there’s a nearly untouched burger and fries on a plate in front of where Daisy usually sits. It looks like she only took a bite out of the burger. A ketchup bottle rests on its side, lid open and red sauce oozing onto the tablecloth.
The removable tray to Henry’s highchair rests against the wall, still dirty with grease and pieces of now dried food sticking to the plastic surface. And his actual chair and the floor directly beneath are scattered with crumbs and chunks of burger and fries.
Henry is a messy eater, but Daisy is the first to clean up any trace of his meal. As if that isn’t weird enough, it looks like they had takeout for dinner. She usually saves that for a special treat or if she’s had a rough day, preferring to cook his meals.
What happened? Unease creeps into my belly, growing and churning as I walk down the hallway. I was away much longer than I’d planned to be today.
Not a sound comes from Henry’s room, and I breathe a little easier at the sight of him fast asleep in his bed. Like a ball, he’s curled up and cuddling his stuffed octopus. A book lies on the side table, and his clothes are strewn about the floor. That isn’t something Daisy would do, especially when the laundry basket is not even three feet away.
She isn’t in there, although there are signs of her. Cell phone on the bed, a letter lying on a pillow, and an opened envelope resting on the side table. I glance at the locked screen of the phone and see my last few texts and one from Sasha are unread.
Her room is abnormally untidy, like the rest of her home. What the hell happened?
Then the sound of the shower finally registers. The bathroom door is closed, and the din of running water loosens the intense tightness in my chest.
As much as I want to go in there, see her, I don’t want to scare her. I’ll wait and tidy the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, the kitchen’s clean and there’s still no sign of Daisy. The water is still on, and running out of patience, I carefully step into the bathroom.
What I see nearly brings me to my knees.
My heart cracks. Chest heaving, breath shallow, I grab onto the doorframe of the bathroom. Through the glass doors of the shower, Daisy’s huddled in a corner, fully clothed, shivering and crying.
Her body shakes incessantly, almost as if she’s in a blender. Yet the way she’s trying to make herself so small, head tucked into her chest and arms wrapped around her knees, she looks like a scared animal. Reminds me of a child.
I rush toward her, flinging open the glass door and nearly falling to my knees in front of her. Cold ice water pelts down onto my back, soaking my skin instantly through the thin fabric of my shirt.
A sharp, icy sensation stabs at my chest. My lungs seize and heart stops. It’s fucking freezing. How can she sit here like this?
“Daisy.” My hand brushes over her wet head. “Daze.” I try to get her to look at me, but she doesn’t move. “Let me get you out of here.”
Her body quakes although she’s unresponsive to her name. Can she hear me? Does she know I am here? Only her sobs tell me she’s conscious.