by Lisa Lace
Bella doesn’t say anything for a moment. She plays with the buttons of my shirt quietly and then looks directly at me. “Is Laura going to leave like my real mommy left?”
My heart drops at her question. I don’t know how I can answer her without lying. Yes, honey. Laura will be leaving in the same fashion that your other mother left you. Except this time the mother’s departure will be my fault. “Laura is going to come back by the end of this week, and we’ll all get back to normal. We’ll do some normal family things together. How does that sound?” I pull her into a tight squeeze, and she nods into my neck.
“Okay. Now that we’ve got that settled let’s get some dinner in that tummy. I know that’s not my stomach being so loud and impolite. Sounds more like your stomach, and I thought you were supposed to be more proper, with all those tea parties you have!”
Bella giggles and scoots off of her seat. “I am proper. I never pick my nose at a tea party.”
“Well, if you’ve learned anything about polite society, that should be it.” I lead her back to the kitchen gallery, scoop up the abandoned plate of offending pasta, and drop it into the sink.
Doing a quick survey of what’s in the pantry as well as the refrigerator, I determine that I can make something with tuna, capers, toast, peanut butter, and a bottle of expensive wine. When the hell did we run out of everything, anyway? I thought Helen took care of all the household groceries. I’ll have to ask her what’s going on. I open the freezer, desperate to find something to feed Bella.
There sit several small foil containers with lids stacked on top of each other. I forgot all about the meals Laura froze before leaving. I retrieve one and examine it before grabbing another, and another. They’re all neatly labeled with the day that the dish was made, as well as how long it will stay fresh for consumption. The containers have directions for warming them up, and I slip two into the oven to reheat.
Bella pipes up from her perch on a barstool. “I helped Laura make them. She said I’m her little sous chef.” She frowns thoughtfully. “I still don’t know what that means.”
“I can’t believe she made so many,” I muse. “How long was she planning on being gone?” I mutter under my breath.
“And me,” Bella insists.
“Yes, and you,” I murmur. I look through the contents of the freezer again. Laura took the time to make several different dishes and freeze portion-sized servings just for...for what? I don’t know why she’s done this. Each one seems to be a favorite of Bella’s, so I suppose that’s why she did it.
But it doesn’t answer my question, not all the way. Why did she do it? She knew anyone would make Bella’s favorite dishes at the drop of a hat. Why go through the trouble when she knows she’s going to leave us anyway? She has nothing to gain from this. I let the freezer close and sit on the opposite side of the counter from Bella.
“Talk to me.” I wrap my hands around her small ones and look into her big blue eyes. “You’ve been doing so well. Why did you get so upset today with the new lady?”
Bella looks uncomfortable and fidgets in her seat. She pushes her hair off her face before answering. “I wanted Laura. She does everything for me.”
“So, you’re saying that other people don’t do everything for you?”
“No, they do.” Her brow puckers. “I like Laura. Laura does things, but she does everything different.”
“How?”
“She does it because she loves me.” Bella’s face clears and her eyes brighten. “Because she loves me,” she repeats. She rattles off all the ways that Laura has taken care of her in the short amount of time that Laura and I have been married.
When she lists it all out, I’m in shock too. The timer on the oven goes off, and I pull out our dinner. Bella scrambles down from her seat and yanks open the double doors to the refrigerator. “We need some white cheese.” She scans the contents for a minute before spying the parmesan container.
“Laura says lasagna isn’t complete until you add every type of cheese.” She hands it to me to open, and I pry open one side and hand it back for her to sprinkle some on her plate.
“I bet you loved hearing that.” I grin. Bella doesn’t answer, her fork already busy trying to cut a piece off of her wedge of lasagna. “Let me help you.” I grab a knife and help her cut it into manageable pieces. “Be careful, it’s still hot,” I caution.
“I know,” Bella says, blowing on a piece that she’s stabbed with her fork. “Laura told me when I have a hot bite to sing the alphabet one time in my head before I do the hot test on my lip.”
“That’s solid advice.”
“Daddy?”
“Hmm,” I mumble between my own chews. The lasagna hits all the right notes and is melting in my mouth. I have good food every day, gourmet food most of the time. But this is a meal cooked from the heart, and I can’t get enough. I mentally calculate how long it will take to warm up a second piece.
“I know I never met my real mom, but…” Bella pauses with her fork in midair, the cheese from the lasagna connecting her bite to a piece on the plate.
“What’s wrong?”
Bella sets her fork down. “Do you think it’s okay if I call Laura ‘Mommy’? I mean, my real mom won’t be upset, will she?” Her eyes are as wide as saucers and trained on me, waiting for the slightest indication that this might not be a good idea.
“Sweetheart.” I don’t know what to tell her. “What do you want? We’ll be okay with whatever you want to do.”
Bella looks at her plate and plays with her fork again. “If I call her ‘Mommy,’ maybe she won’t leave like my real mom did.”
I’m around the counter and crushing Bella to me.
“Your birth mother left because she wasn’t able to be your mom. You can call Laura whatever you’re comfortable with. She’ll be part of your life either way.” I curse myself silently for the false promise, but I can’t bear to see Bella like this. I know Laura would have promised her the same if she were here.
“Mmmmfff.” Bella is trying to speak, but I’ve crushed her mouth into my chest.
“What?” I pull back to look at her.
“Mommy.” She smiles slowly. “Laura’s my mommy.”
Laura
The entire flight back to New York, I think about ways to tell Max I got the job but that I don’t want to take it. I want to stay with him and Bella in New York. I know it’s foolish, and I know it won’t work, but sometimes it helps to think that it’s possible. And that lets me get through the long nights without him.
I grab my luggage off the conveyor belt and drag it behind me as I make my way through the crowds toward the exit.
“Weren’t you supposed to tell me when you wanted to come back?” A deep voice asks from behind me.
I whirl around and come face to face with Max. “How did you know?”
“You used my card, remember?” He chuckles. “I got an alert when you changed the ticket.”
I’m annoyed with myself for not changing the payment to my own card. He has eyes and ears everywhere except for where it counts. I wish for the hundredth time today that we had a normal relationship, with no deadlines or weird agreements. It would have been nice to have a man who’s in love with me picking me up from the airport and taking me home.
“Shall we?” He sticks out his elbow, and I gingerly accept it. He grabs the handle of my suitcase from me and leads the way to the driver waiting for us. The driver leaps out to take the bag from him, and Max holds the door open for me.
I slip in and scoot to one side. Max slides in after me and scoots closer so our thighs are touching. I missed him so much when I was away, but now that he’s near, I don’t want him.
I have to stick to the resolution I made to myself while in Milan: not to sleep with him anymore. It’s going to be difficult, but in the long run, I hope it will be easier to forget about him. This is the only way we can start distancing ourselves from this arrangement.
He leans in without warning and
brushes his lips against mine. My lips betray me by parting and inviting in his tongue to dance with mine. I want to stop, but I also want to see where it will lead. My resolution lasted all but ten seconds. But a few kisses can’t hurt.
A warm, familiar sensation spreads through my body. My chest thrusts forward, willing his hands to cup my breasts. His hand cups the right side of my ribs instead, and his thumb brushes the underside of my breast. He goes back and forth lightly before slowing down and increasing his pressure.
I pull back suddenly while I know I still can. “I think we should stop,” I rasp. I hate that I sound so affected by just his kiss, but I can’t help it.
Max looks amused, but he leans back casually as if he doesn’t care if we continue or not. I cross my arms over my chest to stop my nipples from straining against my thin shirt.
“I have to leave tomorrow for London,” he says, swiping through his phone. “I thought we would have more time together between when you returned and when I had to leave, but it didn’t work out that way. Do you want to go out for dinner tonight, just you and me? We can put Bella to bed before we go.”
“No, I just want to relax for a bit. Why are you going to London?”
“I have to meet one of the investors that missed me when we were there earlier. He’s not as, well, invested in the project as the rest of the group.” Max continues to tell me a little bit more about the project, but I tune it out.
I stare out the window and blink back the tears that threaten to spill. He’s so casual about this business venture, the same as he’s treating our arrangement. I’m a fool for catching feelings and becoming invested when he warned me that it wasn’t part of the deal.
“I have about a month before I have to wrap things up here,” I say quietly when he finishes.
“And then?” I feel him stiffen and pull away, but I can’t understand why. This is what he wanted, this is what we agreed to.
“Then I go to Milan for six weeks. It’s a preliminary assignment, but it’s during the peak time before fashion week, so I have to be there ahead of that for planning. I should actually be there now, but I told them that I had to come back to make arrangements.”
“That’s nice that they’re so understanding,” Max replies vaguely. “You’ll do well.”
We pull up to the house, and Max is out of the car before it comes to a complete stop. Unlike when we got into the sedan, he doesn’t wait for me by the door and runs up the steps and into the house before I can get out. The driver rounds to the back of the car smoothly and withdraws my bag. He carries it up, and I follow closely behind, my mind racing.
What did I say to Max that made him get out of the car and leave abruptly? It’s not like he didn’t know where my interviews were going to lead. Or did he assume that I wasn’t talented enough to get my foot in the door without his assistance?
I roll my neck to get the kinks out. I could go for a massage, but there’s no time for that. I go through the list of things that I need to do today before I can begin to think about relaxing. Although I hadn’t planned on returning to the office, Sam had requested my help in a few matters. Before I knew it, I was back to my routine, minus Max in the office.
After picking up Bella, I have to take her to her swimming lessons and then return home to give her dinner and do her nighttime routine. After swimming is a tricky time for her because she’s incredibly hungry and sleepy at the same time. The symptoms for both are similar—crankiness, moodiness, and crying at the drop of a hat. I know that when I let her emotions run their course, she calms down quicker, so I usually let her have a good cry and sympathize with her.
“You got a minute?” Riley comes in and has a seat across from me.
“I do now,” I joke. “What’s going on?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “There’s this lady in my department who’s trying to cause trouble. She started to tell me about it last week while you were gone, but when I wasn’t biting, I thought she’d drop it. She didn’t.”
“What? Start from the beginning. What happened exactly?”
“You’ve seen the Amazon that works on my floor before, right? The one with terrible taste in perfume?”
“Oh yeah, you said you got a headache from her horrible strawberry hurricane a while ago.”
“Yup, that’s the one. It turns out that’s not her only flaw. She went to human resources and claimed that Max made a pass at her.”
“What?” I get up from my chair, ready to go out the door and confront her.
“You can’t do anything about it, Laura. Let HR deal with her. If you do anything, it’ll reflect poorly on you since you’re his wife. Of course, you’d take his word over hers.”
“So I’m supposed to let her say whatever she wants?” But I know she’s right, and I sit back down. “Where the hell does she get off saying something like that?” Then I remember her a few weeks back, talking to Max by Sam’s office. She was leaning into him, touching him.
“She’s the one you warned me about,” I say flatly. “I should have listened. Maybe she’s telling the truth.”
“What? No!” Riley stands up to wear a path in my carpet. “I might have believed it for a second if I didn’t see firsthand how much he missed you while you were gone. There’s no way he’s interested in Sandy.” She pauses by the window behind me and looks out. “When is Max coming back, anyway?”
“By Thursday, unless he has some delays.”
Riley worries her lower lip and crosses her arms. “Is there any way he can come back sooner? It would help to have him here to clear his name.”
“It’s her word against his, right? What’s her story, anyway? She’s been with the company for a while or what?”
Riley shrugs. “She’s not exactly new. She joined maybe a year ago, and she’s always seemed a little opportunistic, but that could be my personal bias seeping in. Her personality rubs me the wrong way.”
“If you find out details, let me know. The sooner, the better.”
“As far as I know, she’s been pretty vague. At least, that was the impression I got when she was trying to tell me before I shut it down. I should have heard her out.” Riley looks regretful.
“Don’t worry about it. Human resources will figure it out on their end.” I sound more certain than I feel. I don’t want to get into what happened when Rebecca came into town. I still don’t know what happened with that, but I’m hurt by it nonetheless.
“Yeah. I know Maxwell will want to be on top of things, though. Maybe you can talk to Sam and see if there’s anything he can help with.”
“Good idea.” I plant my hands on my hips and glance at the time. “He should be back in his office by now. I think he was in a meeting earlier.”
Riley nods and walks to the door. “I have to go, but let me know what happens. I’ll keep my ears open, too.”
I hear the staccato of her heels disappear down the hallway. I can’t possibly concentrate on my work now; I need to know more about this woman. There’s no better person to ask than Sam.
Hurrying to his office, I pass by Norma’s desk. The curiosity on her face is evident, but I’ll have to pick her brain later. She’s loyal to Max, and if anyone has something negative to say about him, I’m nearly positive she’ll have some dirt on them.
“Hey, you free?” I rap on the door as I speak.
“Yeah,” Sam responds without looking up from his laptop. “I have a few minutes. Come in, have a seat. I just need to finish this email before I forget.”
“I can come back.” I retreat into the hallway, but Sam looks up quickly.
“No, really. Have a seat. I’ve got some time. What’s going on?”
“Did you hear about the woman who’s accusing Max of sexual harassment?”
Sam snorts. “Is it you?”
“Sam!”
He laughs. “I mean really, if anyone was going to complain, it should have been you.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You
wouldn’t. That’s my whole point. You two are both crazy for arranging this marriage, and you’re even crazier for wanting to end it. So who’s this other lady? I’m intrigued.”
“She works with Riley,” I begin.
Sam cuts me off with a hand in the air. “You mean Sandy.”
“I guess. Yes, actually. That’s what Riley said earlier.”
“Yeah, she’s a piece of work. I know she’s lying.”
“How can you be sure? You don’t even know the details.”
Sam takes a deep breath and closes his laptop. “For starters, Max is married. And out of the two of us, I will say that he’s definitely more qualified to be married—meaning he will always do it justice. He’s always held the sanctity of marriage in high regard. Remember when we talked a while ago about how my parents got a divorce? My mom had an affair. It devastated everyone, but Max especially. I think my dad already suspected that she was cheating for a while and had just accepted it. But Max took it to heart. That alone makes me think this woman is lying through her teeth. He has no reason to cheat. He’s married to you. And even if you’re heading toward what you two refer to as an ‘inevitable divorce,’ then what reason would he have to cheat? Why not wait a few months?” Sam shook his head. “Bullshit.”
His words make my heart feel lighter, even though I didn’t believe the woman’s story.
“And she flirts with anyone who looks in her direction, so I already don’t believe her. I mean she flirted with me right in front of Riley—” He breaks off and shakes his head. “She has no boundaries.”
“Flirting doesn’t mean she wasn’t harassed,” I argue.
“So do you believe her?” Sam raises his eyebrows. “I know this is off-topic but whatever you think happened between him and Rebecca, didn’t, and I can guarantee this is nothing, too.”
“I’m just playing devil’s advocate here.” I run my hand through my hair and exhale loudly. “It’s just a lot, you know?”