by Zrinka Jelic
A smile crept to his face while he waited for Rosie’s dark eyes to close. With every passing day, she resembled her mamma more and more. How could Olivia not remember any of them? Her belly full of warm liquid and the room softly lit, the gentle rocking lulled the baby back to sleep. Tom’s head dropped a couple of times, too. He stood up, kissed her soft forehead, then put the sleeping cherub in her crib and left the nursery on his toes.
No light under the master suite door worried him. Either Olivia had fallen asleep or she’d left the house. A quick check would set his mind at ease. The door opened at his push. He poked his head through. Olivia’s even breathing through the darkness calmed his nerves. With some luck the attempted murder trial currently on his plate wouldn’t take months or worse, years, to wrap up so he could pay all his attention to his wife and family. Of course, he’d give the best legal counsel. The fact the client had come through the legal aid clinic would not tamper with his ability to be the perfect lawyer for this job. Not even the flashing cameras or questions shouted from journalists churned his stomach, though, like having to leave Olivia alone with kids for an entire day in the weird state she was. Maybe by Monday she’d snap out of whatever gripped her.
CHAPTER 3
Olivia stretched under the covers and flipped to her side. A few more minutes in the warm bed suited her still tired body. God in Heaven, what a vivid nightmare had pinned her to the sheets. Had she actually lactated in her dream? An involuntary shudder passed through her, but she patted her breasts all the same. Her shirt was dry.
A couple of kids and a husband? This had to be the first time her biological clock projected her fears into her dreams. So what if she was getting older? She wasn’t afraid to die a spinster. Her goals had been set and marriage wasn’t in the scheme.
She didn’t need to end her career by tying herself to a husband and a couple of snotty kids. She blew a strand of hair off her face. Christ, she grew up listening to her mother’s incessant, bitter complaints. Sure, nowadays women juggled employment and families, but her work demanded a lot of her time. The corporate world had not changed much since mother’s days. Olivia had seen many women lose their jobs the moment management suspected their delicate conditions. Hell, she had even fired a few on the directive of upper management. Then had filled those vacancies with middle-aged women with fewer qualifications and experience, and no possibility they’d take off on maternity leave. Sad, but she didn’t set the rules.
She drew in a long breath, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with sea-breeze male scent jolted her to a sitting position. Pinstriped pants hung from the back of the wicker chair. Her mouth tightened. A few of her one-night stands had tried to get a second date by “forgetting” something, but none had left pants behind. Her gut twisted. That man — Tomislav Medar — was still in her house. Dare she call the police again? Not after last night’s fiasco. The dispatcher and the constable had seemed to think she was his wife. Though he spoke without an accent, his name indicated he may be a foreigner. Was he some kind of a poor immigrant that had stalked her, discovered she lived alone and devised this diabolic plan to get her house and possessions? Whatever and however gorgeous he was, it was time for him to gather his brats and go. Throwing the covers off, she jumped out of bed.
“I’ll be damned.” She stared down her legs. The ugly, huge and plaid flannel bottoms fit her fine. In fact, they were far more comfortable than her sexy lingerie.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and winced. Seven forty flashed on the screen. That couldn’t be right. She had less than an hour to get ready and arrive to work on time. Damn, she’d just have to enjoy kicking her guests out later. Her gaze darted to the scale on the tiled bathroom floor. No matter how pressed for time she was, the curiosity forced her to step on. The numbers on the digital display kept going up and up and finally flashed three times. One hundred and eighty? Christ! I couldn’t have gained twenty pounds overnight. Hopefully she’d finish her duties early enough to stop by her gym.
After a refreshing shower, she wrapped a towel around her body and scurried to the walk-in closet. Hangers scraped the rod as she shoved them to one end. Feminine and colorful items with frills and lace had replaced her stiff, dark designer power suits. She pushed down the panic rising up in her throat and told herself she had simply forgotten a recent shopping spree. What had she been thinking buying such garish prints?
She managed to piece together a semi-decent outfit of navy blue slacks and burgundy jacket then rushed down the stairs.
Tom waited at the foot of the staircase. Her favorite cup depicting two cats in sneakers rested in his hand. Steam curled from the mug in tantalizing ribbons.
“Your fresh look tells me you’re feeling better.” He offered the cup to her. His sensual lips stretched in a seductive smile.
She accepted the mug. His thumb brushed her hand and sent tingles racing up her arm. She sipped as if she’d done this for years. The smooth blend of vanilla and coffee filled her mouth and pleased her palette. He sure knew how to fix her morning brew. “Please, Tom. Don’t start your argument now. I’m going to be late for work.”
The smile faded from his handsome face. “You still can’t remember.”
Blowing the steam off her beverage, she studied him. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The narrow foyer appeared smaller with his impressive size. Between the walls were framed family pictures. Olivia focused on the face of a baby girl. No, it couldn’t be. The face before her was strikingly familiar. If Tom Photoshopped this image, he’d have to know her mother, since she’d kept all of the pictures from her childhood. Perhaps she should hear Tom’s version of her life, so she’d be able to discover some clues and valid reasons to have him thrown out of her house.
“No, I can’t. Why don’t you fill me in? And fast. I’m running late.” She took another sip and glanced at her watch. Less than half an hour to arrive at work and he was in her way.
He exhaled, long and slow. “First, you’re on maternity leave. And second, after it runs out, we agreed you’d stay home with kids for another year or two.”
She gulped a mouthful of scalding coffee, sputtering when it burned her throat. She coughed and patted her chest. “Me? On maternity leave? Mr. Hiltorn would have me fired. Or he’d make me fire myself, since I’m good at doing his dirty work.”
Tom frowned, but she continued, “You must be crazy if you think I’d sit at home for a couple of years and watch my ass get any bigger than it is.”
Another exasperated sigh came from Tom. “I was afraid you’d change your mind. Need I remind you of the troubles we’ve had with daycares and babysitters? We’ve picked up Milo with a diaper so wet it had soaked through his clothes. Sometimes he had scrapes and bruises and no one knew how he got them. I’ll never forget the day you came home so irate when the staff couldn’t be bothered to administer his prescription.”
She frowned. Hadn’t she just fired a woman who’d taken too many days off to stay at home with her sick brat? It was possible parents really didn’t use their kids as an excuse to get a day off here and there. Had she fired that woman without just cause? “Why did your kid need medication?”
He scrutinized her. Her question must’ve angered him, or maybe it was her tone. “Our son had strep throat. Obviously, you don’t remember rushing him to the emergency with a high fever. Daycares are full of germs.”
“Mommy, you’re back,” squealed the shrill voice of a child. A little boy ran down the stairs, grinning.
Olivia stared at the front of the boy’s pajamas, a picture of a rusty tow truck with perturbing front teeth. Hey there Mater was written across the bottom right next to a Disney-Pixar logo. The boy wrapped his short arms around her legs and tilted his chin up. “Was Auntie Tadem sorry you couldn’t bring me?”
“Auntie Tadem?” She gasped. Her sister born with Down’s syndrome, institutionalized by mother and forgotten by the world, was this kid’s aunt? Since when? No, Tadem was no m
ore his aunt than she was his mother. Petrified, Olivia stared at Tom, who stood with his back leaning against the wall. From the funny expression on his face, he found the whole situation quite amusing.
“I miss Auntie,” the kid chatted on, breaking into some kind of bouncing dance. “But guess what? Andy invited me to his birthday and it’s at Chucky E Cheese’s and Daddy will take me to the store to pick a present for Andy and then we’ll go and play the games and have cake.”
The kid’s fast, high-pitched voice pierced Olivia’s brain. She couldn’t stand another second of this chatter. Tom’s widening smile sent her over the edge. “Does he ever shut up? What’s wrong with your kid?”
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The boy’s lip trembled and tears welled in his brown eyes, the same rich honey shade as his father’s. Tom pushed from the wall and pulled the boy into his arms, giving her a scowl that curdled her blood.
“Milo,” he said, cradling the boy against his chest. “Mommy’s not feeling well. Why don’t you go back to your room and get ready for school.”
Milo nodded and wiped his tears. Tom’s eyes blazed while the boy climbed the stairs. He waited until the upstairs door closed with a soft snick before breaking the tenuous silence. “If for some reason you want to hurt me, that’s fine. I can take it, but Milo is just a five-year-old boy for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t understand your sudden coldness.”
His harsh tone and stern face caused her stomach to turn and knot. Excruciating silence prevailed. She didn’t know what to say other than clear her throat and stare at her feet.
Tom spoke again, his voice soft. “You promised to see the doctor today. I’ll drive you over to the office as soon as I put Milo on the school bus and get Rosie ready. She should be up soon.”
She met his gaze, stunned by his abrupt mood swing. Warmth shone in his eyes again, a soft smile lit his face and tingled her spine. His quick mellowing suggested he couldn’t stay angry at her. If she had to put a word to it, she’d say he loved her. Right, Olivia. Now you’re getting delusional. Still she owed him an apology.
“I’m sorry for hurting Milo. I’m not used to having kids around.” She licked her lips and drew a long breath as she put the mug on the corner stand. “I’m confused. You think I don’t remember, but I do. It’s just what I remember is different.”
“Honey,” Tom pulled her close, his rich, male scent filling her with an instant calm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.” He released her from his bear hug, though she wished he hadn’t. “You weren’t comfortable with kids the first time I brought you to meet my family. My cousin’s wife handed you her baby and you didn’t know what to do.” He grinned. “To save you, I took the baby, but you’ve come a long way since then.”
Despite her effort to suppress her smile, her lips curled. His story, however sweet, sounded farfetched. “Look, Tom, I’m afraid your story doesn’t fit with mine. I have to figure this out for myself.” She wrung her fingers while her mind raced. How could she leave her house with him and his kids inside? She had no choice. If she didn’t hurry she’d be the one standing in the unemployment line. “I’m late for work for the first time in my life. If your story proves true, I’ll stop by the doctor’s office and see if there’s something wrong with my head.” The familiar scent of rosemary surrounded her as she opened the coat closet. The smell must have lingered from Tom’s cooking. Her mouth watered at the thought while she pulled her boots on and scrambled into her parka. “Where’s my briefcase?”
Tom picked up a pink bag patterned with white blossoms. “I just wish you weren’t stubborn about getting medical help, but that is so you.” He handed the flowered bag to her, concern dissipating from his eyes. “Your briefcase has been replaced by the diaper bag.”
The absurdity made her smirk. Even if she used such an item, it would be plain and all-business, not girly and feminine. She grabbed her purse from the corner stand and surprised herself by flashing Tom a warm smile. It would be nice to stay home with him. A thought stopped her mid-stride. Where did that come from? She’d always been a career woman at heart. Odd. Better leave now before things got any crazier.
“I really should be going.”
“Are you sure you’re in a condition to drive?” He lowered the arm holding the diaper bag in an “I give up” gesture.
“I’m fine.”
“Make sure your cell’s on and call me.” His fingers brushing her cheek and his irresistible smile sent prickles to her neck.
One hand on the knob of the garage door, she paused and arched a mocking brow. He thought she was an invalid, incapable of taking care of herself. “I promise to see the doctor as soon as I can.”
He kissed her cheek with the same familiarity as last night. Then he slid a set of keys in her hand. “Don’t forget to tell your prick of a boss you’re not coming back to work. And by the way, you’re driving the van. The tank is full and snow tires are on. You’re all set for winter.”
At least he got one thing right — Mr. Hiltorn was a prick. On the other hand, he knew the business inside out. There was much to be learned from him. She glanced at the keys in her hand, then back at Tom. “Maybe you can tell me what happened to my vintage Mercedes.”
A nostalgic smile crossed his face. “I loved that car, too. But with two kids, we needed something much bigger than a two-seater and it eventually became a money pit, so we sold it.”
She nodded. The car was getting old and had needed a new engine. And yes, she’d been thinking of selling it. “Hope we got good money for it.”
“Oh we did.” Tom chuckled as if in memory. “I think the collector who bought it would’ve paid any price. And we traded your BMW in for the van.”
She studied his aquiline profile. He’s a sweet man. A strange impulse came over her. Before opening the garage side door, she leaned to kiss him on the cheek.
Happiness replaced concern in his eyes and washed away his initial astonishment at her unexpected action. She longed to kiss him again, on his lips. Why not? In this surreal time, she was his wife.
“Call me if you need anything. In the meantime, our son is taking his time getting dressed for school. I should see to him.” He patted her shoulder and she stood rooted, staring as he ran up the stairs to get Milo. Their son.
With a sigh, she crossed the garage floor to her vehicle. Seated in the van, she scanned the dashboard, noting every detail. Well, this Nissan Quest had everything her gas guzzling Mercedes did not. She turned on the engine then shifted in reverse when the garage door glided up. As she twisted to back out, she winced at the two child car seats in the middle. She imagined fighting traffic with two screaming kids strapped in there. It would probably add to her pedal to the metal driving.
The cluster of downtown skyscrapers loomed in the distance while the Don Valley Parkway, long after rush hour, still resembled a parking lot. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and turned on the radio, hoping to find a traffic report. The speaker’s smooth voice muffled the drone of the engine. The talk about alternate lives grabbed her attention.
Did he say “alternate life?” Oh, he meant alternative lifestyles. Still years ago she’d read countless books on the subject because she found it fascinating. Of course that was before she cast the fiction for reality. If her memory served her right, everything she’d learned then indicated she was in some kind of alternate life now. Maybe Olivia from this world was lost and helpless in hers. She exhaled and eased her foot off the brake. Though nothing had changed in her physical world — even the road construction in center lanes continued to cause delays. The taillights of the cars ahead flashed red again and she stopped. A hint of relief flooded her. In every story, the characters got returned to their lives after they fulfilled some quest.
Her cell clipped to the console, chimed. She read a text message on the screen. Hope you’re having a smooth drive, love Tom.
Little buttons on the dial pad of her mobile clicked as she replied. Get
ting there. She hesitated for a moment, thinking whether to add “love, Olivia,” but decided against the endearment and pressed the send button.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the Intelcorp parking lot and took the employee card from her purse. A hint of hope kindled in her at the sight of her real last name, but it was quickly extinguished when the arm barring parking lot entrance remained lowered. Neither did the red light change to green.
Two more trials of scanning her card produced the same result. She reversed from the entrance and parked in the visitors’ spot. If she weren’t late already, she’d march straight into the security office and give them a piece of her mind for deactivating her card again. As it was, she’d just have to fire off an angry email to their supervisor.
Gray clouds raced over Toronto’s downtown skyscrapers. She pulled the zipper of her coat all the way to her chin as cold winds whipped around her. In a few long strides, she crossed to the revolving glass entrance.
The receptionist’s face lit up when Olivia stepped in the lobby. “Good morning, Olivia.” The middle-aged woman leaned to the side and peered behind her. “Did you bring Rosie? She’s such a cutie-patootie. The whole office is crazy about her.”
Olivia halted in her tracks. It wasn’t the woman’s inquires about Tom’s kid that stunned her. Since when was she on a first name basis with a receptionist?
“Olivia.” She spun on her heels at the shriek. Airhead Jess came running down the stairs, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. She too leaned to the side, expecting to see someone behind Olivia. “Is Tom with you? The girls from accounting and I haven’t drooled over him in a while.” Jess waved her hand. “Oh I got your message from last night. I’m fired?” She broke into a giggle. “Hilarious.”
Her mouth dropped open and dried, yet her palms turned sweaty. Olivia stared at her workers. Things were happening too fast for her to process. This was her place of employment, her sanctuary. The people here always treated her with respect, addressed her by her last name, averted their glances from her and whispered behind her back as she made her way to the corner office.