I was up immediately and heading to my laptop on my desk. In seconds, I had her address. Next, I shot off a text to Butts. Knowing him, he’d have what I needed in record time. “You shouldn’t skip meals.”
She laughed a bit. “I never skipped meals when I was with you, did I?”
I was already out the door by the time she finished her question. She continued chatting as I descended in the elevator.
“Do you remember the time we ate pizza on the curb before I went back to boarding school in Europe?” I asked.
Her voice softened. “Yeah, I do.”
“I still go back to Tony’s every once in a while for a slice of cheese with anchovies and pepperoni.”
She made a rude noise, but her voice was relaxed as I reached the garage where my private car was waiting.
“You hated every bite of that pizza.”
“But I still ate it anyway. I liked the company and not the food.” I still remembered seeing her take bites of that cardboard-like pizza, a joyous look on her face. I smiled at the thought. It was me and her that day. Not anyone else. Just another day when our lives would diverge.
“True,” she whispered.
My phone shook with a new text: desired order ready. go to charles and revere st.
I glanced at my watch. Roland Butts was a ninja.
Once the car arrived at the address Butts gave me, a man wearing a white apron ran to my window and passed me a sack. Damn, the contents smelled good. I had yet to eat myself.
Carlie continued, unaware of my actions. “Anybody can eat Subway. They are just another sandwich shop.”
I rolled my eyes. Not too far for me to go to reach her. “Says the woman who put down a foot-long like nobody’s business.”
“I have taste, though,” she replied. “Subway sandwiches are good and all, but if you want a real sandwich, you go to a deli that specializes in meats.”
“You’re a New Yorker through and through.”
She giggled a bit. I loved hearing that noise.
“You can’t take the New York out of me.”
“You even used to have an accent.”
“I still have one.”
“Not really. I can’t tell.”
She sounded insulted. And a bit more tired. I needed to hurry. By the time my car pulled up to her business suites hotel, she was yawning into the phone.
“You still have your accent,” she said softly.
“That I do, Gingerbread.”
“Why do you still call me that?”
“Because I like to hear your reaction.” I was through the glass doorway into the lobby. A few more footsteps and I’d be at her doorway.
“Where are you? Heading home?” she asked.
“Yeah. I had paperwork to do. I’m thinking I should have some hot leftovers and get some sleep.”
She snorted. “Tomas Goodfellow eats leftovers?”
I was walking down her hallway now. The lightness in my feet increased with each step.
“Every now and then, yes. My housekeeper and cook do take days off.”
“And that’s when you should order room service. I sure as hell would.”
I knocked hard on her door.
“Who the fuck would bother me at a time like this?” she muttered.
I tried not to laugh. Why ruin the moment?
“Do your neighbors usually bother you?” I asked.
“Just a minute. Somebody is probably complaining about my alarm clocks again.”
When she opened the door and saw me, her mouth dropped open. She looked from her cellphone to the door. “Wah?”
“Hey, Gingerbread.” Pleased with my successful arrival, I slid around her and came inside. The place was small, just like all business suites these days. All she had was a small kitchenette table for two, so I put the sack on there.
“What are you…?” A smile broke out on her face, revealing her dimple. She was wearing the same clothes I’d seen her in earlier today. Her usually straight blond hair hung in messy waves past her shoulders. She was absolutely beautiful.
“Surprise?” I added.
She glanced around her place and quickly threw discarded clothing into a pile. As she placed papers and such into piles, I realized something: I’d never seen her home before. Even when we were younger back in NYC, we always met in public to hang out, or she followed me around. Not once, even when we were intimate in the past, had I visited her.
You don’t want to see my dump, she used to say. Shit, I don’t even want to see it. Back then, she shrugged it off, but I knew she was ashamed of what she had compared to me so I never pushed the issue.
“You said you hadn’t eaten so I brought you some food,” I said.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to…” She glanced at the bag longingly. She probably smelled what I did: fresh bread.
As tempted as I’d been to buy gluten-free bread, that would have revealed that I knew about her little secret. I ignored her frozen expression and headed to the kitchenette. She didn’t say anything when I checked the cupboards and pulled out a few dishes and silverware.
“Looks like you’ve never used these,” I remarked.
“I was never much of a cook.”
“I remember that.”
“What did you bring?” she asked me.
“You’ll see.”
I arranged our meal, retrieving her salad first. “A cranberry mango millet salad for you. Full of all sorts of vitamins and minerals to get you ready for work tomorrow. And to show I’m not an ogre, I added a Greek yogurt parfait for dessert.”
Her grin was adorable.
I continued. “For me, a pastrami sandwich on rye filled with stuff I shouldn’t be eating without a warning label.”
I added two small servings of loaded baked potato soup. She finally sprung into action when I poured two glasses of water for us.
“This looks delicious.” She sat down, not quickly, but slowly as she assessed everything.
“You look dumbfounded.”
“I wasn’t expecting any of this.” She took a bite of her salad and paused to moan. “This is divine.” She looked at the bag. “Where did you get this?”
“From one of the chefs at the hotel. He hooks me up every once in a while when I work a long night.”
She ran her spoon through the soup a few times, as if she was looking for something. Maybe some ingredients that might hint there was gluten inside. I was ready for that, though.
I spoke up. “I promise there aren’t any bugs in there. I didn’t have much time since I had you on the phone. The chef happened to have a canceled order from a customer who had dietary restrictions, so he gave me a part of their order and threw together a sandwich for me.” I made a face to show I was sorry. “I would’ve done McDonald’s, but the drive-through would have given me away.” I changed my voice to sound like it came through a drive-through speaker. “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?”
She laughed. “I’d pay money to see you take that Maserati through a drive-through.”
I chuckled. “I happen to love Popeyes chicken, just like everyone else.”
“You’re one of the richest guys in the world, and you don’t send a lackey to buy you a bucket of chicken?”
“Not when my arms and legs work just fine.” Now that we were past that hump, I sat and watched her eat. Seeing her relaxed and happy was always something I enjoyed. Carlie never took the little things for granted. She always tried everything, even food she didn’t recognize, but this time, just knowing she felt uneasy about food bothered me. Didn’t she know what she could and couldn’t eat?
She tentatively took a sip of the potato soup. “This is so creamy. Your chef friend is talented.”
“That he is.”
Carlie made short work of her food. Before she could try to clear our dishes, I took them away and scraped off plates. While I was in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and confirmed my suspicions. Not a single healthy box of food in there. Mat
ter of fact, I’d call what I saw an experiment in figuring out a new diet through processed foods.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just putting the extra potato soup away. Fresh food is good for the soul. Especially after a long day.”
She stood in what could be called her living room and office, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. Was she waiting for me to leave again? Like I always did?
“Aren’t you tired?” I finally asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“Yeah.” She still didn’t move.
“So why don’t you go to bed?”
“I feel pretty gross, but I haven’t found the energy to take care of that.”
She remained where she was until I took her hand and led her toward the bedroom. “Tomas…” she began, but stopped when we ended up in the connected bathroom.
I leaned over the tub and started running a hot bath.
“I can do it myself,” she said.
“Yes, you could, but not tonight.”
In minutes, the hot bath was ready. Steam and the smell of peachy soap filled the air. At my side, she’d crossed her arms, but I uncrossed them. “Behave, Gingerbread.”
“I’m starting to hate that nickname.”
I touched her hairline where a hint of stark red hair grew. “It’s fitting. It will be soon anyway.”
She let me discard her blouse. I took things slow, my movements unhurried or driven by pleasure. Not that I didn’t enjoy unsnapping her bra or exposing her beautiful breasts to my eyes only, but I wanted her to feel safe and relaxed tonight.
She didn’t say a word, only taking in the brown-tiled floor while I took off her skirt and removed her panties. Once she was naked before me, I offered a hand to help her into the tub.
“Thank you.” She sank into the water and I had to hold myself in check to keep myself from drinking in the delicious curve of her back. The freckles were there as I remembered, this time no longer covered with makeup.
I wanted to draw my lips along her shoulder blades. Instead I waited for her to dip into the water. She hissed and murmured, “This feels wonderful.”
I took a seat on the nearby toilet. “Seems like you never take baths.”
“Oh, I do. Whenever I get the chance.” She leaned back and steam rose from the water. Her breasts emerged from the surface, the pretty nipples with golden rings damp and enticing. I focused on her face.
She continued, her voice content. “Before I started working at your hotel, I used to take a bath every day. I had this massive jet tub with all the bells and whistles.” She stretched her arms out to show how wide. “But that huge tub was nothing compared to this tiny one with you sitting here with me,” she admitted.
I leaned toward her and drew a strand of hair out of her face. She looked at me, and what little resolve I had to not touch her chipped away.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I breathed.
I ran my hand down the curve of her neck, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. Her rosy cheeks actually blushed when the tips of my fingers brushed against her collarbone. That blush deepened when I circled the sensitive circle of skin around her pert nipples. The water was warm and I wanted to join her—even if there wasn’t enough room for us to bathe together.
Her head tilted to the side and sank into the tub a bit more as I caressed her skin. My strokes were slow at first, lazy and calm, but soon enough her chest rose to meet my hand. Her lips parted and her tongue snuck out to lick that lower lip. Damn, she was sexy.
Her knees rose out of the water and her legs parted. “Tomas…”
Her eyes looked tired, but when I withdrew a bit she snatched my hand. With a lazy smile, she pulled my hand southward into the water. Down her smooth stomach until I reached the silky heat of her channel. She called my name again when I drew my hand upward along her heated flesh. She wouldn’t let my arm go, urging me to stroke faster and faster. Deftly with her right hand she held me, while she guided my right hand with her left.
I already knew what pleased her, but letting her control my movements was just as erotic. Especially when she pushed my fingers into her and drew them up to her mouth to lick them. I was closer to her now, unable to control myself. I dipped to flick my tongue along her nipples. Hearing her moans drove me further until she climaxed against my hand.
I was rather wet at this point.
“Sorry about that,” she said softly. Her face was glowing. I loved seeing her like this. If I could see her like this every night I would.
“You’re not sorry,” I chided. “Not in the least bit.”
“No, I’m not.”
I let her soak for a bit longer, and then I brought a towel to dry her off.
She was quiet as I followed her to bed.
“I need to set my alarms or I’ll never wake up,” she said. “I’m so exhausted.”
“Don’t worry, just get some rest.”
I got to work setting her alarms like she wanted.
I waited for her to ask me to stay, but she fell asleep instead. I waited for the dawn to come and then I left.
Chapter 21
Carlie
Day after day I used my lunch break to visit the hospital. At first, the nursing staff was a bit put off by me, but they quickly understood I was Patty’s daughter and I wasn’t leaving until my birth mom woke up.
The first day I came, I was surprised to see my mom was in a new room. A private room on the same floor.
A quick text to Tomas confirmed he’d paid for the luxury private room, as well as specialists who checked on my birth mom during the lunchtime rounds. Just another debt I couldn’t pay. She’d been moved, there was nothing I could do but be grateful.
By the fourth day, it was nice seeing her face, even if she wasn’t awake.
By the fifth day, when she did wake up, she opened her mouth and everything changed. “Who the hell are you?”
After twenty-five years apart, that was the first thing she said to me. How lovely.
“Hi, I’m Carlie…” Instead of standing next to her, like I always did, I added some space between us.
“I don’t know any Carlie.” Her voice was hoarse and sleep touched her eyelids.
“I’m…your daughter. The one you gave up a long time ago.”
Now that made her pause. Her gaze flicked back and forth and she worked her mouth as if by habit.
The awkward moment lingered for so long I wanted to say something to end it.
“What do you want?” Mom finally asked.
“To meet you. I’ve always wanted to know who you were—”
“Did I ask for you to come find me?” she interrupted.
“No, but—”
“Then you shouldn’t be here.” She grimaced.
“Are you in pain?” I looked for the call button. “Do you want some medication?”
“Carol, you can leave.”
“It’s Carlie.”
“Whatever your name is, I don’t want you here. I specifically asked for no visitors.”
“I’m not a visitor.”
She harrumphed. In the exact manner I did. “So you’re family now?”
Hearing those words hurt, but I ignored her jab. I’d waited for this so long, a few words from her didn’t mean shit compared to what I’d heard on the streets.
“Apparently I’m the only family you’ve got now. I heard my dad is dead.”
She made a noncommittal sound. “Pretty much. He smoked enough cigarettes to earn a free lung disease ticket.” Then she turned a bit, only to stop with a grimace and reach for her abdomen.
“You shouldn’t move.” Hearing her say that about him kicked me in my gut, but I’d deal with that later.
“After Frank died, I was so angry about him leaving me alone. Look at me now. Damn karma is an evil bitch with steel-toe boots.”
At that moment, a nurse finally came in to check on her. “How are you feeling, Patty?”
“Like week-old shit l
eft on the cement to dry.”
The nurse chuckled. “Watch your language, hon.”
“When you give me some drugs to feel better, we can talk about my language.”
“Have you been keeping your daughter company?” the nurse asked.
“I don’t know who this person is. I have strict rules about visitors.”
The nurse flashed me a look of sympathy, but even I knew Mom could kick me out.
“Talking to others is healthy,” the nurse said. “You’re about to hit a rough patch until we know your bowels are working properly.”
My birth mom frowned and she slowly rubbed her scarf-covered head. “How long until I can eat? I hate this tube running down my throat.”
“Hopefully just another day or two. We need to keep your stomach from getting distended.”
She made a rude sound of utter distaste. “So all I get is that IV?”
“We talked about this before your procedure, Patty.” The nurse continued to check her vitals. “This is the plan.”
“I didn’t plan on waking up ready to eat a horse and the barn it sleeps in.”
The nurse patted her on the shoulder. When the nurse left, I was alone with Patty again. Her lowered eyebrows and frown told me I wasn’t welcome.
“Would you like for me to turn on the TV?” I found the remote and turned on the television. This fancier room seemed to have everything. Even a nice couch for family to sleep on.
“Turn it off,” she snapped. “If I wanted it on, I would’ve done it myself.”
Keep smiling, Carlie.
Reading people was what I did for a living, which meant I knew for a fact I was trying to swim toward a sinking ship. She was likely hungry and tired. Hungry and tired people lashed out at anyone within striking distance.
And I had a damn target duct-taped to my forehead.
“You need to leave,” Mom said again.
I nodded. “I’ll be back later then, after you’ve rested.”
“Don’t bother.”
“I promise I won’t be a nuisance. Once you’re feeling better you’ll want company.”
“What makes you think I want to see you ever again?” The harsh look on her face felt like a smack on mine. “There was a reason why I left you behind.”
And with that, I exited stage right.
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