by Louise Bay
My phone buzzed in my hand. Mike could fucking wait. I flipped it over to see Gillian Jones’s name flashing on the screen. My stomach sank to my feet. I wasn’t expecting a call from her. She was my personal lawyer, and I hadn’t spoken to her for months. There would only be one reason why she’d call.
“Gillian, what can I do for you?”
“I’ve heard from her lawyers.”
She didn’t need to tell me who her was.
Her was Bethany’s mother, my wife, and the woman I’d thought I was going to spend the rest of my life building a family with. When she’d walked out nearly three years ago, I’d been devastated, blindsided. Heartbroken that our family was shattering into pieces and that Bethany had been left without a mother.
Now I was just numb.
“Her lawyers have sent over the paperwork to start off the divorce proceedings.”
It wasn’t pain I felt exactly. More the memory of pain. A bruise reminding me what had happened; a shadow that would never fully disappear.
“Good,” I replied. “If I hadn’t been so busy, I would have started the process before now.” She’d filed for a legal separation almost immediately after leaving, but this was the first I’d heard about divorce. “What does she want?” I asked. My father’s money had made me a wealthy man. But Bethany was the most valuable part of my life. One, she was welcome to. The other, I’d fight to the death to protect.
“Nothing,” Gillian said.
Relief swept through me. She could have had the money. She must have known that. She could have had enough never to work again. But she didn’t want anything? It was the best possible outcome for me. It also added a layer of clarity. She’d never seen our family the way I had, never loved our daughter the way I did. She couldn’t have. Otherwise, she would have never walked away. But I should have learned that lesson already. I knew some people weren’t capable of loving their children in a way they needed. I just wished I’d realized Penelope was that kind of person before I’d married her.
“Good. Well, get it done.”
“I’ll courier a document over for signing.”
I hung up and dialed a familiar number. “Gordon, the Globe-Wernicke piece that I looked at a month or so ago. Is it still available?”
“The bookshelf you said needed too much work?”
I ignored him. “Is it still available?”
“I sold it yesterday. I’m due to ship it out this afternoon.”
“I’ll double whatever they paid. Have it delivered to the house in the next hour.”
“Absolutely,” Gordon replied.
I’d bought a number of interesting pieces of furniture from Gordon over the years. He had a great eye. Best of all, he was a man of few words.
My next call was to Mike. I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit, and I was going to bring the fight to him.
“Mike, did you see the agreement?” I asked when he answered.
“I’ve just finished going through it. It’s outrageous. I can’t believe they’ve asked for a retention and there’s no—”
“Nothing they’ve asked for is unreasonable. Other than a correction on a tax issue, this document is signable.”
Mike started his usual expletive-ridden tirade I’d endured during every other phone call I had with him. I ran through my emails and ignored him. When he quietened, I turned back to the phone.
“It’s a waste of our time and your money to argue these points. The cost outweighs the gain.”
“I don’t care. If they’ve offered this deal, we can get better—”
“No, Mike. They’ve offered this deal because they don’t want to fight over non-material issues for the next week, only to end up exactly where this draft puts us. If you want to negotiate this contract any further, then you need to do it yourself or get another lawyer.
Silence filled the cab before Mike chuckled, his furious mood seemingly having passed. “You’re refusing instructions?”
“If you won’t take my advice, there’s no point in us continuing like this.” For the last year, I’d put up with Mike’s demands and outbursts and I was at the end of my tether. I’d been through the terrible twos with Bethany, and it felt as if I were back there with Mike. The difference with a toddler was that they grew out of the phase. I’d accepted Mike’s attitude to keep the work coming in, but I was done. I was an excellent lawyer who gave great advice. If he didn’t see that, then he could go elsewhere. That might get me fired from the firm, but if I could survive Penelope walking out on our family when Bethany was just a year old, I could survive anything.
“You really think this is as good as we can get?” Mike asked, his voice bristling at the edges.
“I do. And you know it’s fair. It’s what we both thought you’d end up with.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
I didn’t try to convince him. Mike knew I was right.
“Okay. Let’s get it done. This way I suppose it means I can still take my wife to dinner tonight.”
I hadn’t realized he was married. “You can thank me later.”
“I’m not sure my wife will thank you. I’m sure she would have preferred the jewelry I’d planned to buy her to make up for missing dinner.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to meet you again. No doubt it’s been awhile. I’m going to get this deal done and then we can enjoy our respective weekends. Have a good one, Mike.”
I tucked my phone in my pocket and found the tickets I’d bought and pulled them out. Two tickets to the matinee of a Sound of Music singalong this coming Wednesday. I stared at them, not quite recalling why I’d bought them. I’d never made suggestions of activities for Bethany to previous nannies she’d had, but I knew when Autumn saw these tickets, her eyes would light up like I’d just made all her dreams come true. She was unlike any woman I’d ever met. Overenthusiastic about everything. Always smiling. She seemed happy just to wake up in the world. She was also stunningly beautiful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d noticed what a woman wore, but I couldn’t ignore her red dress last Saturday night. The dinner at Dexter and Hollie’s was also the first time I’d seen her a little unsure of herself, and I’d found myself feeling oddly protective of her. I didn’t want her spending the night fending off the competitive flirting between Joshua and Tristan.
I felt an urge to shield her from that.
But I shouldn’t have touched her. For a few seconds I’d forgotten myself and given in to the desire I had to feel her—just my leg against hers. The call from Gillian was a stark reminder of why such behavior was foolish. I wasn’t going down that path again.
The cab came to a halt outside the house. I settled the fare and took my keys from my pocket.
I could hear the sounds of strangled cats before I’d even opened the front door. I stood in the hallway, trying to make out what they were singing about. Oh yes, even I’d heard the dulcet tones of Dolly Parton, belting out “9 to 5.” I just hadn’t heard it overlaid by the two worst singers in history.
I opened the door to the main family area. “Good afternoon,” I said, a little taken aback by the scene in front of me. Autumn’s long dark hair was divided into various bobbles and clips and bows, and her face was blobbed with color. Was that paint?
“Daddy!” Bethany screamed as she ran toward me and jumped into my arms.
My daughter’s face looked like she was also in training for clown school, although her hair seemed to have fared better than Autumn’s.
“What’s going on in here?” I asked, needing an explanation for why my daughter looked like she was starring in a Steven King film.
Thankfully, Autumn turned off the music before I had to ask.
“We’re playing makeup parlor, Daddy. Do I look pretty?”
Bethany was the only person in my life I lied to. “You look gorgeous.” Somewhere underneath all that color.
“And Autumn looks pretty, doesn’t she?” Bethany pointed at her nanny, clearly wanting me t
o agree with her.
The fact was, it was easy to see past the smeared lipstick, comically red cheeks and lopsided hair that made her look like she’d had a fight with a puppy. There was no doubt Autumn was more than pretty.
“You like my eye shadow?” Autumn asked, grinning at me. “Bethany’s a natural, isn’t she?”
“You both look pretty. Very . . . colorful.”
Autumn laughed and took Bethany’s hand from around my neck and wiped it of something gloopy. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was perfume, but Autumn’s scent reminded me of sunshine. Of spring blossom and roses. She winced and dabbed my shirt collar. “I think she got you,” she said, pressing her fingertips into my neck. “Sorry.”
“It’s not a problem.” It had been a long time since a woman had touched me that way. Our eyes locked. We were just a few centimeters apart, so close I could feel her body heat, feel myself wrapped in her scent. For just a moment, those promises I’d made to myself years ago and reminded myself of just a few minutes ago in the cab disintegrated. I wanted her.
Autumn looked away first.
“You think your Daddy would like a makeover?” Autumn asked.
Bethany’s eyes went wide. “Yes!” Before I had a chance to object, she’d slid out of my arms and was pulling my hand, trying to guide me to the sofa. “You sit here, Daddy. You need lipstick.”
“No, Bethany. You’re not putting makeup on me.” I shrugged out of my jacket and loosened my tie. I needed to breathe. “Men don’t wear makeup.”
“Not true,” Autumn said, shooting me a smug smile. She knew she was setting me up. “And I think it should be encouraged. If women have to go through all this, I don’t see why all men shouldn’t make more of an effort.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” I asked Autumn as she began to gather and tidy.
“I’m on the side of developing Bethany’s motor skills. I’m surprised you’re not encouraging her to develop in all areas.”
I sighed and took a seat on the sofa. I’d won my battle with Mike this afternoon. I suppose it was only fair I lost this one. “Okay. Maybe a little lipstick won’t hurt.”
“You’ll feel like a million dollars when Miss Bethany’s through with you,” Autumn said. “It will relax you. You might even start singing along and enjoying show tunes with us.”
“Speaking of,” I said, reaching for my jacket. “I got you two these for next week.”
I handed a ticket to each of them.
“What is it, Daddy?” Bethany asked, looking at the ticket.
“Are you serious?” Autumn asked, a grin the size of Ireland stretching across her face. “Really? You bought this for me? For us?”
Anyone would have thought I’d just bought her a small private island. “It’s just theatre tickets.”
She held her hand up in a stop gesture. “These are not just theatre tickets,” she said. “Bethany, we get to go to a musical sing-along. Have you ever heard of anything so wonderful?” She sighed and collapsed onto the velvet footstool as if her legs had given out. “This show came to Portland once but we—” She stared at the ticket, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I finally get to go.” She fell into silence as she held the ticket in her hand as if it were made of gold. Finally, she glanced up at me. “No one except Hollie has ever done anything so nice for me.”
I swallowed, completely taken aback at how delighted—moved even—she was at the tickets. The idea that she’d never had anyone do anything nice for her troubled me. Why not? Surely she’d had parents. Boyfriends? “Well, I don’t want to be accused of neglecting my daughter’s education, now do I?” I was rarely the one to lighten the mood, but the situation called for it.
Autumn looked at me, a small smile creeping over her face. “As if you’d neglect anything when it comes to Bethany. You’re an amazing father.”
A ball of heat burrowed into my chest. There wasn’t a better compliment. It was the only thing that meant anything to me in this world.
A knock on the door interrupted my imminent makeover. That would be the Globe-Wernicke—my distraction from my impending divorce. Except that I hadn’t thought about it once since I’d gotten home.
Six
Gabriel
I pushed the door into the Mayfair pub around the corner from Beck’s place. It had been his turn to choose the venue for the regular gathering of my brothers in everything but blood. This place felt like an old school gentleman’s club with good beer, friendly staff, and comfortable leather armchairs. We didn’t need anything else.
“Did you know that the only time you’re on time is when we meet on a Sunday night?” Beck said, pushing a pint of Guinness toward me as I took a seat at the round polished table.
Joshua clinked his glass to mine. “You okay, mate? You look weirdly rested.”
I nodded. The weekend with Bethany had been just what I needed. In the end, I’d escaped lipstick and managed to go two full days without a call from Mike. It had been blissful. “I’m usually late because I’m at work. I just managed the weekend off.”
“You’re always so busy. I thought we were in a recession,” Joshua said.
“Not for me,” Tristan replied.
Joshua, Andrew, Tristan, Beck, and Dexter were as close as it got to family. Dysfunctional, frustrating, and more than a little irritating at times, but unquestionably loyal and one hundred percent in my corner. Being as busy as I was, I would have skipped our weekly drinks if they’d been held during the week, and it felt good to be able to make it. Even if we sat around and talked about nothing, I knew I’d walk away feeling like I had a spine of steel.
“Yeah, and not for me either,” I said. “I have a round-the-clock job attending to Mike Green’s arsehole, apparently.”
“Why is it that when Gabriel says something like that, it’s like hearing my dad swear?” Tristan asked.
“I wouldn’t wish arsehole-attending on anyone,” Joshua said. “But Mike Green? What did you do to deserve that?”
Mike Green was known as the client from hell. And Joshua knew better than most, because if it wasn’t for Joshua, I wouldn’t be working with Mike. “Yeah, I must remember to thank you for introducing him to me,” I said.
“You have to get rid of him. Walk away,” Joshua said. “I’ve never been so happy to lose a client.”
“Easy for you to say. If I wasn’t doing three deals for Mike, I wouldn’t have any work. Law has been hit hard in this recession. Especially M&A.”
Tristan mumbled something in Dexter’s ear and Dexter just shook his head.
“Ever thought about retiring?” Beck asked.
“I’m thirty-three. You want me to take up golf and bowls?” I took a sip on my pint. As if I was just going to give up my career. Law was long hours, that was just how it was. And it wasn’t like Beck left the office at five thirty every day.
“No, but you could give up law,” Tristan said.
“I like my job. It’s Mike Green I don’t like.”
“At least you have a reliable nanny for Bethany now though, right?” Dexter said, quite obviously changing the subject.
“Oh yes, how is Hot Autumn?” Tristan asked. “That red dress on her the other night looked incredible.”
I tried not to crack my jaw as I clenched my teeth. Tristan had better keep well away from Autumn. “Bethany likes her a great deal, and it’s nice not to have to worry about finding someone.” I tried to keep my tone even, but I was sure it sounded like I wanted to wipe that lecherous look from his face. With a hammer.
“You seem tense when I mention her, mate. Protective. Has anything happened between the two of you?” Tristan said. “Have I missed something?”
“No,” I barked.
“If you even look in her direction, I’m going to have to kill you,” Dexter said.
I glanced up, ready to reassure Dexter that no lines had been crossed. But he was addressing Tristan, not me.
“So do me a favor,” Dexter continued. “Just do
n’t ever mention her again. And don’t even think about asking her out.”
It wasn’t as if I was about to ask her out, but I wondered if she was off limits to me too. Dexter probably thought I was so responsible, I’d never even consider making a move on Bethany’s nanny. Or that my manhood had shriveled up and fallen off. But it hadn’t and . . . there was something about Autumn. Something compelling that drew me to her. Something that had me buying tickets to musicals to make her happy. Something making me sit next to her at dinner parties. Autumn just had me thinking about possibilities far more than I’d done before. Far more than I should be.
“Fucking hell, what is the matter with everyone?” Tristan asked. “I was talking about a hot woman that I’m sure all of us around this table would happily bang. Why am I in the firing line?”
“Why do you make every relationship between a man and a woman about sex, Tristan?” I asked. “It’s like you never grew up past fifteen.”
Tristan looked as if I’d slapped him. I instantly felt bad.
“Sorry,” I said. “I got draft divorce papers by email this morning.”
The obligatory I’m sorrys followed and I nodded as if their condolences helped. It was just good to be with people who knew me.
“What has she asked for?” Dexter asked. “Can you say yes to it to get it over with?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “She wants nothing—not her daughter, not her husband, and not any of his money.” That’s what I’d assumed when she’d first gone. That she’d been a gold-digger all along. I’d been stupid enough to be in love and hadn’t bothered to ask for a postnuptial agreement to protect what I’d inherited from my father. But when she didn’t ask for anything during the legal separation, I’d started to wonder why she’d left. I’d never come up with an answer.