by kj lewis
“Thanks, Finn.”
“You’re welcome, Sam.” He nods to me when I enter the foyer.
“I brought Sam up. She doesn’t have access to your floor, so the lift wouldn’t open.”
“She has access to yours?” I ask surprised. Finn has strict rules when it comes to his privacy.
“Of course. So will Josh once I know he’s not a crazy person.”
Sam laughs and hits him on the arm. “Josh is a nice guy. I hand picked him to look after you. Be nice.”
“Fine. I’ll be nice.”
“Not nice like you were to me the first month. True niceness.”
“That’s not a word.” My brother winks at her and I notice they have a camaraderie about them that I haven’t observed before. This girl means something to him. I don’t know how I missed it.
“If you say so. Thanks for the clothes.” She yanks the edge of the T-shirt she has on. She’s changed into one of his white undershirts and a pair of his sweats from uni that have Oxford screen printed on the upper thigh. She’s rolled them up where her ankles show so she won’t trip. On anyone else the ensemble would look ridiculous, but she pulls them off, looking comfortably familiar.
“Anytime, love.” He kisses her forehead and the doors close.
“We met the doorman on the way up,” she says, holding up a white paper bag. “I’m going to wake her for a dose now and again in four hours.”
“I can give her the second one,” I offer, exhausted at the thought of waking up in four hours when I have to be up in six.
“Nah.” She waves me off. “I’m going to sleep in her room. If she’s still running a fever in the morning, I’ll run her to the doctor. Goodnight.” She smiles. There’s mascara smudged around her hazel down-turned eyes. She has a few freckles on the bridge of her up-turned nose and full rosy-pink lips. Other than that, she is fresh-faced.
“Good night,” I reply.
I sleep through my alarm the next morning. A bit of a bad habit lately. Having only been asleep for a few hours, it takes some effort to drag my arse out of bed and to the shower. I implore the fall of warm water to revive me, but it’s simply not up for the task. I wrap a bath towel around my waist before stepping up to the mirror where I find a tired man peers back at me.
I don’t know how Everett managed it. I’m feeling every hour of my thirty-four years, and in the reflection staring back at me, I feel like you can see each of them.
I give a silent thanks to God that my body still has quite a bit of athletic definition, even though I haven’t seen a gym in months. Finn and I have the same sea-green eyes and angular jaw, but he has our mother’s nose and cheeks while I favor our father. Hard and intimidating.
My skin ruddier and more textured from the sun, unlike Finn’s whose skin reflects our privileged lives. Rotating my face from one side to the next, I decide to leave the growing stubble that has become a common presence over the last few months. Anything allowing me to be out the door earlier. A lazy splash of cologne and I’m ready.
While everything else in my life has changed, my closet has been my one constant. It’s still an organized shrine to the suits housed here. I slide into a Saville Row suit, a gray pin-stripe, one of my favorites. I button my waistcoat before grabbing my suit jacket and starting the morning ritual.
I’d caution anyone not to mistake the word ritual for organized. Or planned. Or controlled. No, ritual for us simply means constant. The chaos, disorder and confusion are all constant.
You can do this. I lift my shoulders and crack my neck from one side then the other. I take a deep breath and go.
I release a lung full of air and head into the living area. The 30th floor is approximately six-hundred-fifty square meters. Not small by any standards, but not as large as some of my counterparts would expect. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room open onto a terrace that wraps around three sides of the building and adds another 200 square meters of outdoor space. That’s more than big enough. Anything more would be vulgar.
Fastening the cuff on my sleeve, I stumble over my feet taking in the scene. Zinnie is at the kitchen bar eating breakfast. This is a first since she’s been living here. Poppy isn’t eating but is sitting at the bar, reading a book. Do kids read at this age? Either way, she’s flipping pages.
“Maria said you like two sugars,” Sam says, handing me a steaming cup of coffee at the same time she sets a plate of toast with butter and jam on the island next to Zinnie. My usual breakfast. Another piece of information my assistant must have bestowed. I take a bite, noticing that Zinnie is eating yogurt with fresh fruit.
“How do you feel Poppy?” I ask the little one.
“Pops.” Sam commands her attention when she doesn’t respond. “Walt asked you a question.” She’s still standing on the other side of the bar. She eats a spoonful of yogurt before leaning across and tugging Zinnie’s earbuds out of her ears. Zinnie shoots her a disgruntled look to which Sam replies, “Not during meals.”
“My throat feels like growls,” Poppy says, turning the page.
“Gravel,” Zinnie snaps. “And if you pass it to me, you’re gonna pay.”
“But I only have two dollars.” A sheen comes over her eyes and there’s a slight lip quiver.
“It’s an expression, honey. No one is going to make you pay.” Sam smiles then gives Zinnie a scolding look.
“So, tell me girls, was it your mom or your dad who had a thing for flowers?”
Poppy stops a page in mid-turn and Zinnie sets her spoon in her bowl. I hold my breath. We never talk about their parents. I don’t want to upset them and I figured they’d talk when they were ready. Yep. Time for Samantha to go home. She doesn’t understand the little rules we have for survival, that help us make it from day to day.
“Mom,” Zinnie says quietly. “Zinnias and Poppies were her favorite.”
“I wish I had a cool story about my name like you guys, or Walt for that matter.” She nods in my direction.
“You were named after a flower?” Poppy asks, her page finding its spot against another.
“Writers, actually.” I look to Sam and she gives me a reassuring smile. “I was named after my mother’s favorite poet, Walt Whitman. She named Finn after her favorite book by Mark Twain. Do either of you know the name of the book?”
“Huckleberry Finn,” Zinnie says with a genuine smile. It’s the first one since before the funeral and it’s breathtaking.
“Daddy read that to us!” Poppy exclaims with a slight bounce.
“That’s right, Pops. He did,” Zinnie says to her sister.
Breakfast is quiet after that, but I feel like a small chip on the mountain was made. It’s the first time we’ve had a conversation that didn’t seem perfunctory and forced. Maybe Sam would be a good fit with the girls. She is the first nanny they have had a response to.
“It’s eight, you need to go,” Sam tells Zinnie. “Dishwasher,” she says when Zinnie heads to her room.
“There’s a maid who does that,” Zinnie and I answer.
“Not anymore. Rinse your breakfast bowl and place it in the dishwasher please,” Sam insists, setting the example with her own dishes.
Zinnie walks heavier than necessary to the sink, following directions.
“I’ll take you to the lobby.” I stand pulling on my jacket and go to grab my briefcase.
“Walt.”
“Samantha?” I look over my shoulder to see what she needs.
“Dishwasher,” she says, pointing to my plate and coffee cup.
I’m this close to telling her that I pay people to do these things for me, but I don’t. She raises a brow in censure at the attitude with which I handle my dishes. I check my watch and call the lift, holding it for Zinnie while she takes an inordinate amount of time getting her items together.
“I’m coming,” she snaps when she observes me checking my watch. I hold my tongue. By the time she makes it to the lift, Sam is waiting for her with her lunch. Zinnie mumbles a than
k you and before she anticipates it, Sam wraps her in a hug and kisses her cheek, wishing her a good day. Zinnie quietly hesitates and steps into the lift. She doesn’t speak, but I catch her wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as the doors close on us.
“What’s wrong?” I cringe just asking the question. There are so many unpredictable ways she can answer this question. I can’t say that I’d be prepared for any of them.
“It’s just the first time since Mom.” She says softly.
“First time?” My voice just as soft as the doors open to the lobby.
“That I started the day with a hug,” she says exiting the elevator as it opens to the lobby.
I watch her walk to her security detail waiting to take her to school.
That I started the day with a hug.
Instead of exiting myself, I punch the button for the thirtieth floor. When the lift doors open Sam is in the kitchen pulling items out of the fridge.
“We need to talk,” I command.
“I know. Listen. I love Finn, but he tends to want to fix everything for the ones he loves. His heart is in the right place, but sometimes his mouth writes a check it can’t cash.”
“He’s right.”
“What?” She looks at me with perplexity and surprise.
“Finn is right. I think you would be a good fit for the girls and I would like to do a trial run to see if we can make this work. I’m a big enough person to admit that I am not winning this like I would like to.” I clear my throat. “Especially when it comes to doing what’s right for the girls. I only want the best for them.”
“That’s how you know you’re going to be okay,” she says with a conviction I have yet to find when it comes to being their guardian.
“It’s going to take me a while to get a replacement. Zinnie has maneuvered her way through five.”
“She’s hurting.”
“She is, and while I have tried to give her leeway, I’m running out of options.”
“And I’m an option? You didn’t seem very keen last night.”
“I wasn’t. I’m still not keen on it, but already the girls had breakfast, spoke actual words, and Zinnie talked in the lift. All of these are new.”
“I have some stipulations.”
“Fine. Negotiate your terms up front. I don’t like to make amendments.”
“I need one night off a week to do as I please. Preferably Friday.”
“You can have Thursday.” I have no preference what day she takes, but I don’t want to lose the upper hand before this even starts. She has no idea that she already has me by the bollocks.
“I want you to support me in front of the girls, as I will you. If you disagree with something, you need to pull me to the side and let me know. If they think they can play us against each other, they will.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“They would, and they will.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be here before the girls start their days and stay until they are in bed.”
“You’ll stay here. There are nanny’s quarters.”
“I don’t need you nor your brother—”
“Let’s address this now, shall we.” I cut her off, crossing my arms. “I am not my brother. You work for me, not Finn.”
“I’m working an IT project for him.”
“He can oversee your projects at the office, but if you accept this job, you will be my employee here. Finn and I handle things very differently. I cannot have you thinking you can play us against one another.” It’s a prick move. A purposeful one.
“I wouldn’t.”
“As I said, you’ll stay here. The girls might need you in the middle of the night.” I honestly don’t care where she stays, but I know Finn will feed my dick to me if I don’t make it so she doesn’t have to go to and from Queens at night.
“Fine. Room and board and five hundred a week. I’ll move in next week.”
“I’ll pay you three thousand a week, room and board, and you’ll move in this week.”
“You can’t. I’ll lose my financial aid.”
“I’ll cover your school then.”
“No. I already had a budget set. I don’t need handouts. I just want to be paid fairly.”
I’m just about to tell her the former nanny was making ten thousand a week so three would be more than fair, but Poppy takes our attention.
“Sam, will you lay down with me?”
“I’ll be right there sweetheart.” She glares back at me. “I’ll move in this week, but the pay is non-negotiable. My IT work is counting as credit hours. They are considering it an internship. You can’t control me by throwing money at me.”
If that’s true, she would be the first.
“Fine. I’ll stick to your salary requirements.”
“Then I’ll move in this week.”
“All the cable networks carried the deal with the Chinese this morning. And the yen was up four when their markets opened,” Quade says, closing a folder and sliding it across the boardroom table into Finn’s waiting hand.
“And they agreed to the three-year stipulations?” Finn asks him, glancing through the signed contracts.
“They did. We had to give them first rights at the solar project you’re working on, but Pierce built in a protection clause that gives you the right to refuse if you see fit.”
“I don’t imagine we’ll need it, but it’s nice to know it’s there. What’s the latest projection date on the solar panel that’s in production now?” Finn says, sliding the file to me.
“Next prototype is due any day now,” I answer as I review and initial each page, and sign the last.
“As we expected, IT stopped another hacking attempt this morning,” Finn says.
“Well, you guys were expecting that, right?” Quade asks. “I’m telling you, you need to bring Elise Donovan into the circle. I’ve used her services before. She can be trusted, and she can get things done. Plus, the chap she has working for her has a way of ‘cracking the nuts’ so to speak.”
“Hear that, Finn?” I smirk at my brother who promptly gives me the finger.
“What? Hold up. What’s the story, Junior?” Quade teases. My brother winces at the nickname he has hated since these guys became my pack.
“Junior likes a boy,” I tell Quade, who claps his hands, flutters his eyelids, and says in a high-pitched voice, “Do tell.”
“The boy is in love with Elise’s guy.”
“Blake Thomas is gay?” Quade says sitting up, shocked into his regular voice.
“Did Walt tell you he hired Sam to be his nanny?” Finn fires back.
“No shit? Finally. You’re getting your footing with this guardian thing. You’re starting to make smart decisions.” Quade looks genuinely pleased with this turn of events. Stand in line man. There’s a long list of people who know I’m fucking up.
“It’s on a trial basis,” I mumble, looking through the messages Maria handed me this morning and pretending to read them. There isn’t anything the guys wouldn’t do for me, but they are as at a loss as I am. And even though no one has said as much, I get the feeling they are trying not to crowd me, hoping that if I have some space to sort through things, I’ll finally get us moving in the right direction.
“Well, it’s a good move,” Quade says, standing and buttoning his suit coat. “Plus, that girl can ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ me any day.”
“Quade,” Finn barks.
“What? I’m serious. I’ve had a thing for Mary Poppins since you hired her as your assistant. We have an understanding. She’s playing hard to get, but really she wants me.”
“Stop asking her out,” Finn demands, making it clear that he’s not messing around.
“Simmer, Junior. I’m always a gentleman,” he says, tussling Finn’s hair.
“Walt,” Finn snarls, fingers combing his locks back into place.
I exhale a deep breath. Finn knows that when I have to choose between my brother and my guys,
he always wins. He sometimes likes to take advantage of that fact.
“Quade, leave Samantha alone. There’s too much at stake now that the girls are involved.” It’s a low blow, but one I know Quade understands. He’s as invested in these girls as I am. All of us are. He would never do anything to fuck this up.
“Like I said, it’s a good move. I’m proud of you.” Quade leans over to hug me in my chair. He’s always been the hugger of the group. Him and Everett. Zinnie’s words come hurling back. That I started the day with a hug. Everett was a hugger.
My phone beeps, pulling me from my thoughts.
Finn’s PA: I took Poppy to the MD. She had to get a shot and has to take an antibiotic for a week. Should be back to normal in a couple of days. No fever so far today.
She’s attached a picture of Poppy napping. Her curls are splattered to and fro on her pillow. Her arms are tightly wrapped around Edward, her blue elephant.
“Pops is better?” Finn asks reading over my shoulder.
“You too, with the Pops?”
He shrugs. “When Sam came to get something to wear last night, she said that Poppy told her Jenny and Everett called her Pops and that she misses it.”
“Sam changed at your place last night?” We suddenly have Quade’s full attention. “Did you see anything?” He waggles his brows and I swear I see a droplet of drool on his chin.
“I saw everything,” Finn goads, slapping his hand down on Quade’s shoulder.
“You’re shitting me, aren’t you? Are you serious?”
The look of sheer anticipation and jealousy on Quade’s face volleyed against the look of utter detachment on Finn’s is enough to make me laugh. For the first time in a long time, sadly.
“And for God’s sake, her name is ‘Samantha’ or ‘Sam’. Don’t list her as ‘Finn’s PA’ in your phone, knob head,” Finn shouts out before the door closes behind him and Quade, leaving me with a much-treasured moment of peace. I take in the picture of Poppy. Even in her sleep Poppy looks content.
Me: Thank you for taking her. Let me know if she needs anything.