VEGAS follows you home

by Sadie Grubor

  Something flashes in her eyes. I'm not sure if it's surprise or anger.

  "I don't know how to convey just how sorry I am for what I've put you through. My acts have been selfish and, admittedly, they still are, but I vow to be gentler and subdued where you and Alex are concerned."

  For a split second, her eyes narrow before she blinks.

  "What about the counseling?"

  Olivia slips her hand out of mine. I clench my fingers, trying to trap the warmth left behind.

  "I've had some research done and contacted a Doctor Levingston. She is located in the city. She is well educated and recommended. I'd like to visit her and see how you feel about her."

  "Damon, what do you plan to get out of these sessions?" A small tremor plagues her voice.

  "We are having a child. I believe that alone is reason enough to try to make this work."

  Her eyes boldly narrow on mine.

  "You've wanted that before the baby," she argues.

  "True. You and Alex are enough for me. Perhaps this baby will make our family worth it to you."

  All expression erases from her face and I can't tell what she's thinking or feeling.

  "Did you do this on purpose?"

  "What?" I furrow my brow.

  Her face drops and she watches her hands in her lap.

  "The pregnancy. Did you get me—?"

  "Of course not." Exasperation stretches my words.

  Her body relaxes.

  "I won't say I'm not pleased about it."

  Her eyes jump up to meet mine.

  "You can't ask me to be unhappy about our child. I'm just as thrilled about this one," the warmth from her body penetrates my hand as I rest it on her stomach, "as I am about Alex."

  I smile. A small twitch at the side of her mouth gives away the smile she tries to hide.

  "I'll be in New York for five days, at the least. What are some good days and times for me to coordinate our initial session?"

  My fingers flex over her stomach and she tenses. Her hand covers mine. My heart thrums and excitement surges through my limbs until she pulls my hand away. Breathing out a puff of disappointment, I sit back in the leather seat.

  "Tuesdays are usually best in the late afternoon or early evening. We'll need to talk about ongoing dates and times and I'll need to coordinate my schedule at the bakery."

  She stares out the window, watching the scenery. It's going by too quickly. Soon, we’ll arrive at the bakery.

  "Thank you," she says in a broken whisper.

  Looking back at her, she looks resigned and I hate it. I don't want her resigned. I want her to see the possibilities.

  My silence pushes her to explain.

  "For your apology."

  "You deserve more than words." Taking her hand once more, I kiss her knuckles.

  Too soon, we arrive at the bakery. Olivia is out of the car before the driver has a chance to shut his door. She’s running away from me and it hurts.

  Inside her apartment, Mercedes sits on the floor, playing with Alex.

  "Dad," he squeals.

  The smile spreading across his face and the way his eyes light up warms my chest. In my peripheral vision, I see Olivia watching his reaction as well. Alex stands and rushes toward me just as Olivia disappears down the hallway. Mercedes follows shortly after.

  To my disappointment, Olivia doesn't appear again. Instead, Mercedes comes back and stays at the edge of the room, watching. I'm annoyed to have a babysitter, but she's there for Alex when it's time for me to leave.

  I stand to leave and Alex cries his protest, breaking my heart into a thousand pieces. Mercedes comes to my rescue by distracting him with toys and television.

  "Tell Olivia I'll be in touch soon."

  "Okay." She bobs her rainbow-colored head.

  "Thank you."

  I exit the apartment and close the door behind me, thinking about how Olivia now hides from me. The running and hiding weighs on my mind as I descend to the waiting car. A lot of it is my own fault. The realization of what I've caused hangs over my head like a guillotine of guilt. Would I change anything? Of course. But I would never change making them a part of my life. Bringing them into my world is the only thing saving the soul that died years ago.

  The driver maneuvers in traffic to get me to the airport in time for my flight back to New York, but I have plenty of time to make some necessary calls.

  The first call is to my assistant. I need some local numbers for florists and such. Next, I call Hugh to check on the progress with all of the changes for B.I.G. We still need the final documents to remove my mother from any position of power, as well as final documents for the new Pittsburgh location. The last call I make is in regards to the mix up at the fertility clinic. I've had my legal team working their angle, but now I need to involve alternative methods. While my legal team uncovered many infractions and citations hidden really well within the division of the clinic where the switch occurred, there are rumors regarding the clinical director who suddenly left the establishment. These rumors are where my alternative methods will come into play.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Knyght?"

  "Mitch, I have another job for you to handle." I settle back on the leather seat. "I'm going to need you to track down Dr. Phillipson. Seems he was the man in charge during the errors made at the fertility clinic and his sudden disappearance is rumored to have been accompanied with some monetary luck."

  "You think it was a payoff to make the mix up?"

  "I don't know, but I want to find out. Not just for my own situation, but for any others involved."

  Olivia

  It's been three days since our conversation in the car, since I hid in the bakery until he left, and since the gifts started to arrive. Day one was imported extracts like Mexican Vanilla, Natural Apricot and Strawberry, aged Bourbon Vanilla, and others too expensive to buy in bulk in my line of work. Day two was a pregnancy themed basket — pregnancy books, baby name books, and a maternity clothing store gift card. Today, I stand at the island between my kitchen and living room, looking at a wooden box filled with foot scrub, lotions, creams, scented oils, and candles.

  "Oh-mah-gawd," Mercedes drawls. "This smells fantastic."

  She holds a small tube to her nose, eyes closed.

  "It's supposed to be really good for stretch marks."

  She pulls the tube away from her face and turns toward me.

  "Lift your shirt so I can rub it on your belly."

  She squeezes a small amount of oil into her palm.

  "Put it back," I groan.

  "Why?" She cocks the brow over her left eye.

  "You know why," I scold. "I'm not accepting these gifts. As soon as I figure out how to return them, they are going back."

  "You're so stubborn." She rubs her hands together and up her arms. The scent of warm, spicy, citrus fills the room. "He's obviously trying to be kind and make amends, but you just want to throw it back in his face."

  Rolling my eyes, I push the gift away from the edge of the counter. Pressing my palms to the surface, I close my eyes and take a breath.

  "Honestly, Liv, why can't you just be civil?"

  "He doesn't want civil." I look up, facing her. "He wants married with children. You know if I give an inch, he'll push for miles."

  Surprised by her sudden support of Damon, annoyance twinges my stomach.

  She shrugs.

  "I just think it would be nice to have someone pamper and help you with everything rather than shoo it away like it's infested with bugs."

  Sighing, I turn and walk down the hall to return to the bakery.

  "I have a cake to finish," I mumble.

  Ced follows closely behind. "Are we still going to IHOP for dinner?"

  My stomach grumbles at the thought of the yummiest pancakes ever.

  "Of course."

  With the start of one of the best mornings I've had in weeks, I decide to cook Alex some eggs. The knock at the door startles me and gets Alex into
talking mode.

  "Door," he calls before an even louder, "door, Momma!"

  "I’ve got it, little man."

  Wiping my hands on a dishtowel, I hurry to open the door so I can get back to the eggs. I freeze at the sight of an oversized bouquet of exotic flowers filling the doorway.

  "You've got to be kidding me," I groan. "Can you please return them to sender?"

  I'm practically whining and for a minute, I feel embarrassed.

  "I'm afraid I will be extremely disappointed if I have to take them back." Damon's voice sends an unwanted thrill through me.

  He steps forward, causing me to retreat and allow him entrance.

  Annoyed he is taking the liberty to just enter my apartment, I bite out, "You promised you wouldn't just show up anymore."

  Damon places the flowers on my living room coffee table and turns to me with a lopsided grin on his face.

  "Now, it wouldn't be a surprise if I called ahead of time, would it?" His eyes move over me, lingering on my stomach.

  "I thought you would be gone all week."

  "Did you miss me?" His brow raises.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  "I'm in town for the new location. I wanted to stop in and see the two of you. I also wanted to let you know that the appointment has been scheduled with the therapist."

  Before I can respond, he turns to Alex.

  "Hey, buddy," he coos, stepping toward Alex's chair.

  "Dad." Alex smiles brightly.

  "Is something burning?" Damon looks over his shoulder, his brows furrowed.

  "Crap!" I exclaim, hurrying to scrape the ruined eggs out of the pan.

  "I could take you out for breakfast," Damon offers.

  "No thanks," I respond quickly. "I have things to take care of in the bakery."

  "Are you sure I can't persuade you with IHOP?"

  The pan slips from my hands, clanging in the metal sink. I turn to him.

  "Are you following me around?"

  He grins.

  "No, I just like to know about the people in my life."

  "So, you had someone else follow me?" I cross my arms over my chest.

  "More like watch over."

  No longer looking at me, he unstraps Alex and lifts him into his strong arms.

  "What do you say?" he presses once more. "Allow me to take you to breakfast."

  "I'm fine, but if you would like to take Alex…" I hesitate. Not because it's hard to say, but because it isn't as hard as I thought it would be. "You could take him for breakfast."

  "Really?" Damon's voice is a mixture of excitement and shock.

  I nod.

  "Let me get him dressed."

  Stepping toward them, I reach out for Alex, who slips into my arms.

  Once he is cleaned, dressed, and packed for the trip, I return Alex to Damon. I've never seen this look on Damon’s face before. His eyes are bright with excitement and his face slightly flushed.

  "Thank you, Olivia." Damon smiles wide, taking Alex from me.

  "Please bring him back," I choke back a sob.

  Damon looks down at me, first with confusion in his eyes before the guilt flashes. His large hand cups my face.

  "I would never do that to you. Never, Olivia. I swear it to you."

  The intensity in his eyes convinces and gives me the strength to let them leave. Wiping a few tears from my eyes, I descend to the bakery.

  After two hours of last minute touches and a large cake order, I'm exhausted but pressing on. Damon enters the bakery, getting everyone's attention. Alex is curled against his chest, sleeping. After brushing the flour and sugar from my food-color-stained hands, I reach for my son.

  "If you don't mind, I’d like to take him up." Damon stops just a few steps from me, studying my reaction.

  "Sure, thank you." I smile small.

  Damon steps around me, his eyes penetrating mine with a deep, unspoken communication. My body flares to life, tingling and warming intimate places. I watch the broad width of his back until he disappears up the stairs. With a deep, shuddering breath, I return to work.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I don't see or hear from Damon or Alex. It becomes so much of a distraction that I leave Angela to finish my cakes and go upstairs.

  In the apartment, silence greets. Worried that something is wrong, I take quick steps down the hallway, stopping in Alex's room. It's empty. Worry turns to panic. Quickening my steps, I enter the living room and stop abruptly.

  On the couch, Damon lays with his head on one arm and ankles on the other. Alex is sprawled out on his chest, both of them fast asleep; their breathing synchronized and faces so similar in the state of slumber. Unwanted emotions swirl through me again. I try to feel annoyed, but can't. Making dinner suddenly sounds like the best idea in the world.

  Damon's schedule with the new location and business engagements keeps him busy. Part of me is happy that he’s not around causing unnecessary feelings of warm fuzzies in my chest and hot throbbing between my thighs. The other part, the hormonal part, desires his dominating presence. It takes a lot of distraction to keep my thoughts from drifting to him and what he's doing.

  "Are you listening to me?" Mercedes taps the kitchen island, drawing my attention back to my notebook and sketches.

  "Sorry?" I look up from under my lashes.

  She grins.

  "I said I like the idea of the pineapple shaped and flavored cake. Alex loves pineapple cake."

  A knock on the door interrupts the discussion regarding Alex's birthday cake and party planning.

  "I'll get it." Mercedes slips off the stool next to me. "I think you need to scale back a bit. He's only going to be two and this is a kid's party. You know, we make fun of people who want to do lavish…"

  At the dying of her words, I turn.

  "Ced, what...?"

  Damon stands just inside my door, his hair in disarray and his normal cool and calm demeanor replaced with something dark and filled with sorrow.

  "Damon?"

  His eyes meet mine. The pain and anger within them takes my breath.

  "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

  Slipping from the stool, I take hesitant steps until only a couple of feet separates us.

  "My," he chokes.

  Reaching out, I place one hand on his face. He nuzzles into my palm just before his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest. Burying his face in my hair, I hear him inhale. The tension leaves his body.

  "Why don't you sit down?" I mumble against his chest, my hands resting at his hips.

  Sniffing, he walks us over to the couch. I try not to trip over his feet, but fail. His arm, secure and strong, keeps me upright. When he suddenly stops, I know we've reached the couch.

  "Sit down."

  I gently place my hands on his shoulders and press.

  The length of his body slides down mine. Once he's seated, he rests his head against my stomach, both hands on each side of the small bump.

  "She's gone," he croaks.

  "Who?" I move one hand to his head.

  "My mother."

  The response escapes him on a rush of breath. The heat of the words saturates my skin through my clothes.

  "Your mother is gone?"

  I pull back just enough to get him to look up. He does.

  "Virginia found her this morning in the sunroom. She had a heart attack. No one was there."

  His mouth twists unpleasantly as anger flashes in his eyes once more.

  "Damon, it's not your fault." Cradling his face in both of my hands, I keep my eyes locked onto his. "It's a terrible—"

  "Terrible?" he blanches. "How is the death of the woman you hate terrible?!" His voice rises.

  My muscles tense and I snap my mouth shut.

  "What's terrible is me, Olivia. I'm the terrible one."

  A sob rips from his chest. He drops his head, resting it on my stomach again.

  Taking his head into my hands, I step back. His head pops up, fear and confusion
lining his face. Releasing his head, I take his hand and lead him to the spare bedroom.

  I lead him to the bed and encourage him to sit. His blank expression and sorrow-filled eyes break my heart. I kneel and remove both shoes before standing and slipping his coat from his shoulders.

  "Get some rest. I'll be in the kitchen—"

  His hands grip my hips, firm and warm.

  "My father told me she was dead and I only felt relief."

  The rawness of his voice brings tears to my eyes.

  "What kind of person feels better about the death of someone?"

  His hands tighten, fingers flexing into the flesh of my hips. He raises his head, eyes wide, giving me access directly into his soul. The anger, guilt, shame, and sorrow completely bared to me.

  "What kind of son doesn't feel sad at the loss of their mother? A monster. Me, the monster she's made me."

  One tear escapes his eye, trailing over his defined cheekbone. That tear is the only one he allows, but it's enough. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pull him to me. I press my hand to the side of his head, holding his cheek against my chest. His arms snake around and embrace me. He allows me to take some of the burden.

  "You're not a monster," I whisper, dipping down and pressing my lips to the top of his head.

  "I need you."

  His arms constrict and pull me down to lie next to him. Burying his face in my neck, he curls his body around mine. His breath on my neck brings every hormone in my body to life, resulting in tingles, throbbing, and aching. The need for his touch almost puts me over the edge of sanity. When the rise and fall of his chest slows and evens, I know he's finally fallen asleep. I slide out from his hold and walk back to the kitchen where Mercedes sits, feeding Alex.

  "Sorry," I apologize as she turns at my entrance.

  "No worries. Everything okay?" Concern washes over her face.

  I shrug. "Not sure."

  She sighs.

  "Do you need to get going? I know you were planning to take off about fifteen minutes ago."

  "No. I'll finish feeing my little man." She ruffles Alex's hair and he giggles.

  We finish our discussion about the birthday party before Mercedes leaves. After we say goodnight, I take Alex for a bath. He plays in the tub for about twenty minutes before we play a couple rounds of block tower build and destroy, and read two bedtime stories.