Do I?
It’s been almost two years since Julia left the diner, and here I am only a couple of years away from thirty and still working for minimum wage, on my feet all day. I’ve watched the gap grow between us since Julia and Parker got engaged, a gap that is going to grow into a chasm when they get married.
“Come on.” Julia stands up, tugging me to my feet by the hand. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Okay.”
4
Colt
I’m already running twenty minutes behind, but as soon as I see Rachel her eyes tell me what my voicemail messages are already screaming at me: Lisa called. I’m familiar with the look of concern and pity she’s giving me under a failing façade of professionalism.
“Good morning, Rachel,” are the only words I manage.
“Yes, good morning, sir. I hate to start your day this way, but Mrs. Grant has been phoning nonstop.” Rachel nods to the stack of papers with messages scribbled upon them. “I’ve told her repeatedly that you haven’t been to the office yet, but she didn’t believe me. She accused me of covering up for you.” Rachel lowers her voice like Lisa’s instability is a shameful secret that must be kept from the office walls. “She sounded really upset this time, sir. If you have a moment, you might want to call her.”
Every muscle in my neck squeezes into a tight, little knot. It’s just after eight and I’m already bombarded with a stack of messages. I’m sure there are at least this many sitting in my inbox and probably another twenty on my voicemail. This thing with Lisa is getting out of hand. It’s getting worse by the day.
“Thank you, Rachel, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, get my lawyer on the phone. If you can’t get a hold of him, leave a message for Frank that I need him to call me back. Make it very clear that it’s urgent.”
Rachel nods at my demands. Lord knows I pay that man enough to call me back promptly. I swear, the higher a person’s salary, the more entitled they become.
With a stack of papers and the beginnings of a headache, I head into my office.
“Sir?”
With effort, I shuffle around to face her. Now what? I know it isn’t Rachel’s fault. Don’t shoot the messenger. I bite my tongue and wait.
“Should I push your meetings to later so you can deal with this? The first one is in ten minutes.”
I flip my wrist, looking at my brother’s old watch. Time couldn’t be more restrictive than it’s been these last few months. Between two time zones, these crisis situations with Lisa, and trying to do justice to the job I’m passionate about, time has been the one luxury I can’t afford.
“Please do,” I slump over. “And, Rachel?”
Her eyebrows rise in response.
“Make sure I’m not disturbed for the next twenty to thirty minutes, please? I’m calling Mrs. Grant.”
“Certainly, sir. That won’t be a problem.”
There it is again, pity.
My office door bears the brunt of my frustration as I slam it shut. The blinds and the picture frame holding the key to my heart, my little girl, shake from the force. I sink into my leather chair and stare into her big brown eyes for a moment, mustering the will to call her mother. My fingers dial the familiar digits from pure muscle memory. It comes with dealing with a new state of emergency every day in this woman’s life. As the phone rings, I hold my breath, wondering which version of Lisa I’m going to speak to this morning. Angry? Depressed? Manic?
“Hello?” Her voice is soft, so soft I wonder for a second if it is Madison who answered.
“Lisa?”
“Who else would it be? What kind of question is that? I swear you’re getting stupider by the day!”
Well, that answers that question.
“Lisa, I don’t have time for this. What do you want?” The tension is twisting inside my forehead, pulling on the backs of my eyeballs.
“Well, Trevor—”
“Colt,” I correct her.
“That’s what I said!” She shrieks in my ear so loud, I pull the phone away. “Is that how you treat your family? How can you just leave me here to deal with everything when you’re off in New York? You don’t even care about what happens to us.”
I can’t contain my sigh. This is a conversation I don’t feel like having for the hundredth time this week. “Lisa, focus, please.” I grit my teeth and intend to keep my voice even, but it’s so difficult when you are dealing with someone so irrational.
She’s sick. Just remember she is sick.
“If you tell me what the problem is, then maybe we can fix it.” I hold a receiver against my forehead, resisting the urge to smash it between my eyes until I knock myself out.
“I thought you should know I sent that so-called nanny you got for us packing. I told you from the get-go that she was no good! She was stealing from me, and she was abusing Madison, but you wouldn’t listen! You never listen to me anymore, Trevor. I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult around here when you know it’s hard enough. All you think about is yourself!”
“You fired Alyssa? Where is she? Where’s Madison?”
“What kind of question is that? She’s right here. What kind of mother do you take me for?”
“Let me talk to her!” I roar into the phone, cutting off her self-pitying tirade. For once she doesn’t protest. I hear the phone rustle as she hands it over.
“Colt? Is it you?”
My heart twists in my chest as my eyes flicker up to the picture on my desk as if she’s speaking to me from within the frame.
“Yes, baby. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” I’m trying so hard to keep my emotions from flooding my voice. I know it won’t do anything but upset her to hear how I truly feel.
“Yes, I okay. Don’t be sad. Mommy said Alyssa go away. Can she come back and play tomorrow?”
“I’ll see what I can do, honey. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.”
Lisa snatches the phone from Madison, and I steel myself for her wrath.
“I told you I fired her. Don’t go telling her you’re going to get her back. You obviously don’t even care about us if you want me to have a nanny who robs the blind and abuses Madison like that!”
This isn’t the first time Lisa has accused nannies of both of these things. In other cases, the police have investigated, and they have always come up empty-handed. Every nanny I’ve hired has had an extensive background search, a police records check, and come with a plethora of references, yet she still finds something wrong with each and every one of them. I thought we had finally found a winner with Alyssa since it’s been over a month of employment without any major protests, yet here we are.
“That isn’t true. I do care about my family, and I do care about what goes on there. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now, would I?” I open the calendar on my computer.
There goes another weekend.
There’s a flight on the redeye tonight, so I can make it there in four hours. “Just hang tight. I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning. I’ll be there before you even have breakfast on the table.” Of that much I’m certain, since one of the reasons a full-time, live-in nanny is an essential service is because Lisa has been known to go for days without eating or serving Madison proper meals.
“Oh, wonderful! We can have pancakes and blueberries. I’ll get us some whipped cream to top them up with, and we can have a nice family breakfast together.” Her mood swings upward like a child sitting on a teeter-totter.
“It all sounds lovely.” I rub my fingers across my forehead. “I’ll see you then.” Hanging up the phone, I realize Rachel needs to reschedule my meetings for today. Lisa can’t be trusted to look after Madison, not even for the next twelve hours. I’m going to have to arrange some sort of emergency care.
When I pick up the phone to call Rachel, the line is live. For a second, I’m thrown off by the phone not buzzing through to her desk, and my stomach sinks as I wonder if somehow I’m
still connected to Lisa.
“Hello? Sir? Um, I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to remind you of the Malone-McGregor wedding this afternoon. You asked me to give you three hours’ notice. Sir?”
I rub the earpiece of the receiver over my throbbing temple, tempted to jab it into my brain.
Fuck.
As usual I got swept up in Lisa’s whirlwind and forgot about all other obligations.
“Thank you, Rachel.” I manage to utter through clenched teeth. The last thing I want to do right now is go to some drawn-out ceremony that will surely involve a media frenzy and more handshaking than any amount of sanitizer can rub off. Did I say ‘fuck’ yet?
5
Colt
By nothing short of a miracle, I’m sitting in the pew at Grace Church, surrounded by well-wishers and family members of the groom. Showing up for this was about ninety percent obligation since I took over the The Families of Fallen Heroes organization from Parker McGregor, and it’s in good form to make an appearance at his wedding. However, ten percent of my presence at this wedding is dedicated to a hope, small as it is, to see her again.
As the space around me fills with guests, my mind wanders to a memory that’s given me a lot of mileage over the past couple of years. Her lips.
When I met Isabella two years back, I was captivated by her immediately. I remember the first thing I noticed about her was her curves, but the last thing—now the only thing—that stuck in my mind after all this time was her full, shimmering lips.
Since that night, her other features have slowly been eroded by the passage of time, but those lips? They’re etched in my brain like the scent of my first love. I’ve had countless fantasies about kissing and nibbling them. Not to mention the countless more I’ve gotten off to thinking about her perfect pout glistening around my cock. I couldn’t even estimate how many nights I’ve closed my eyes and swapped whatever quick-fix-fuck I picked up for the night with Isabella’s plump, pink lips in my mind.
It isn’t until a hushed hum of approval spreads through the crowd and the organ player’s familiar song fills the air that I realize I’ve dazed out the entire wedding party’s entrance down the aisle. All eyes are glued to Julia at the back of the church, slowly two-stepping her way down the red carpet, but my head is stuck to the front.
I feel like the wind has been knocked from my lungs, like when I used to rough-house with my older brother as a kid. It takes a conscious effort to breathe as my eyes are transfixed on the red lipstick painted on Isabella’s mouth. My cock throbs as I watch her glide her pink tongue over them.
It takes a minute, maybe two, but when I finally allow my eyes to travel over the rest of her face. I don’t know how I could’ve ever forgotten it. With her high cheekbones and smoldering eyes, she looks like a model. I have to admit, my eyes don’t stay locked on hers for too long. Not when they have miles of legs and sexy curves to travel over.
Is she wearing a ring? It’s impossible to see from here. A smile travels over my face as I recall how she tried to blow me off the first time I met her. I was flying high on cloud nine since my takeover of the organization was being made public. The highest point of my career had been achieved by my thirty-second birthday. I felt like Superman, especially when my brother threw his arm around my shoulder, telling me how he always knew I’d be the big shot of the family. I’d spent my entire life looking up to him, so his words lifted me even higher.
When I spotted Isabella across the distinct circular lobby of the Guggenheim, my confidence floated me to her side, where I was quickly and effortlessly shut down. I’ve never been a lady-killer, but then again, getting a number or a date has never taken much work either. I was immediately drawn in by Isabella’s stunning beauty and killer body, but her nonchalant indifference to my attempts to catch her eye is what seared her in my mind.
Two years on, I’ve been indulged by too many easy women. I miss having real conversations and dates. I miss spending time getting to know a woman for who she truly is and not who she thinks I want.
My eyes water as I finally blink after staring at Isabella so long. I swear that when my eyelids close, her image is burned inside them. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her slip away so easily this time. I haven’t felt this alive and uplifted in over a year. I’ve missed my heart beating like this, the sensation of my blood rushing through my veins, and I can’t stop staring at her. I don’t want to miss a second of her sexy face. Now if the minister could stop acting like he’s getting paid by the word, maybe I can go introduce myself and find a way to make those pillowy lips mine.
6
Isabella
The church is packed.
Seeing my mother mixed in amongst the crowd makes my stomach churn with acid. We were so close when I was growing up. Then, as soon as I made one mistake, she let my father slam the door in my face.
The mournful look that clouded her eyes that night has been clung there ever since.
I’m sure that, up here in the front of the chapel, my father is picking me apart. I bet he’s found forty new ways I’ve disappointed him in the last forty minutes. Then again, I’ve been disappointing Dad for twenty-eight years, why would today be any different?
Glancing out over the quickly filling pews, I can’t help but smile. There’s no mistaking who’s here for the groom and who showed up for the bride. Down the right side of the opulent church are some of the stiffest, most overdressed guys I’ve ever seen. You’d think there’s a convention for accountants with all of the gray suits. Hell, even half the women are wearing pantsuits and dresses with little white blazers.
Why are they dressed like a GAP ad? Like they’re trying to make a bland rainbow of beiges and grays. I can only imagine how interesting the conversations on that side of the aisle must be. Not that you’d even think there were any happening from everyone’s stiff posture and hushed tones.
Meanwhile, Julia’s friends and family are wearing so much color they look like when you left your crayons out in the sun, and they all melted into a bright pool of neons and reds. Even over the sea of laughter and carrying-on, the individual voices of a few of the women and men are filling the entire church with their jokes and stories about their kids.
If Parker’s side is a GAP ad, then Julia’s half of the church is like Times Square where all the ads are flashing and competing for your attention at the same time.
I’ve gone to church most of my life. I’ll admit, in my adult years I strayed more than I should have, but I still go for services at the holidays. In all my years, I’ve never seen a church like this one. The beams arching over each other on the ceiling and the stained glass windows must be at least twelve feet tall. The organ player interrupts my thoughts as she starts playing the wedding song. Down at the end of the long, red carpet is Julia and her oldest brother David.
When I first met Julia, I had the biggest crush on Dave. He was so much older and cooler than anyone we knew. Julia used to swat me when I went to her apartment because I'd follow him around from room to room whenever he was home.
It looks like it's a good thing I didn't get my wish back then. David is what my grandmother would call stout. With a big, round belly and little beads of sweat cresting his brow, I think I dodged a bullet.
Julia has everyone mesmerized in her brilliant white gown. The way her skin is glowing, with a rosy hue against the snowy fabric of her dress, is hypnotic. She’s never looked more beautiful.
Originally, she wanted to wear something she would call modest, but you and I would call one step up from a paper bag. After hours of indulging her being laced up in what looked like curtains and doilies, I talked her into wearing the sweetheart neckline that fits her perfectly.
The thing I loved most about her dress is the long train with tiny light pink roses embroidered down it. She looks like a princess.
Wiping away a few tears, I'm surprised by how emotional I am. I've never been one to cry at weddings, but here I am hoping my mascara doesn't stream
down my face in black rivers.
In a lot of ways, this is like the end of our youth. Julia always seemed older than her years anyway, but now that she's getting married, it feels more and more like I'm just wasting my life away while she is off establishing hers.
I can't help but worry that soon this will all mean the end of our friendship too. I'm sure it won't be long before she and Parker start a family, and then who knows how often we'll see each other anymore. I should be the one walking her down the aisle and giving her away to Parker. I’m going to be more affected by it than anyone else.
She looks nervous, and I know it's because of all the eyes on her. I would love everyone watching me, but Julia is trembling a little as Parker holds her hand. She gazes into his eyes, and I watch as her shaking hand steadies and her breathing slows. When the two of them are together, it’s like the outside world ceases to exist. Whether they’re standing across a party from each other or standing hand-in-hand with hundreds of sets of eyes upon them, they only see each other.
Will I ever meet anyone who can eclipse everything like that?
My father is droning on and on. My feet are tingling from standing in one spot for so long. I’m pretty sure I've lost consciousness a few times. Finally, he says the words everyone is waiting for. "You may now kiss the bride."
Parker sweeps Julia into his arms and kisses her softly as a murmur of approval and some clapping pops up from the crowd. They’re kissing like the final scene in a movie, just when the credits start to roll, and you know that somehow, that couple will be in that much love forever. The trials and bickering every couple goes through will magically pass them by, because they are frozen in a passionate moment no one can ever take away from them.
His Promise Page 3