And besides, working in Albuquerque means I’d get to see Larson all the time.
Stop mixing work decisions with pleasure, I lecture myself. But it’s too late. I’m already envisioning all the things Larson was talking about doing together: Thanksgiving dinner at Riley’s house, the Santa Ride and even Christmas spent under the mistletoe— and under the covers— together.
“I think that all sounds like a great idea,” I tell Clay, as I place my credit card on the table once the waitress brings us our check.
It’s the firm’s custom to pick up the tab when we take clients out to eat. It’s the firm’s credit card, so it doesn’t come out of my pocket.
“I’ll get it,” Clay insists, placing cash on the table that covers the tag and apparently a large tip for the waitress as well. “The man should always pay for a lady’s meal.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at that old- fashioned comment. I do what I have to do, what Paul and Jane and the other partners would want me to do. I smile sweetly and take his arm as we get up.
“I can’t wait to tell everyone else about our new venture,” he says, as we head for the door. “I wonder how they’ll take the news.”
“I’m sure they’ll think it’s… interesting,” I say, and then quickly add, “What an interesting and exciting idea!” because he looks at me as if I’d just offended him a little bit.
“Very well then,” he says, patting my hand again. “I do hope they like the idea or I might just have to find another firm and convince them to hire you as an associate. I’m sure that Makens will go along with my idea, once they realize we’re a package deal.”
My stomach churns at the way he calls us a package deal. But the rest of me is just hoping that this meeting with the firm doesn’t take very long.
If Larson’s not already awake, he will be before I know it, and I don’t want him to think I’ve forgotten about him. I just have to get Clay— and my work obligations— off my back, so that I can once again be on my back for Larson.
Chapter 30 – Larson
“Larson!” Caleb yells as I enter the house.
I’d knocked on the door and luckily they were still there and Esmeralda had let me in.
“Hey buddy,” I say, and he gives me five. “I see you’ve decided to call me by my real name now instead of just referring me to as the Motorcycle Man. I’m glad we’ve grown so close.”
Wish I could say the same about your mom, I think.
“You got any more of those Mickey Mouse pancakes left?” I ask him.
He laughs, thinking I’m joking, but I’m not. I bought a bagel on my way back but I’m still hungry.
“Yes we sure do have some pancakes for you, Mr. Larson,” Esmeralda says, reaching into the refrigerator.
“Oh no, Esmeralda, you don’t have to get them for me,” I tell her. But she’s already doing it.
“You make yourself at home here. Any friend of Miss Brynn’s is a friend of mine,” she says. “Miss Brynn is a lovely lady who deserves a nice gentleman friend.”
“Gen-tle-man friend,” Caleb says, giggling with his hand in front of his face.
I would have agreed with Esmeralda up until this morning. Now I’m so perplexed I don’t know what to do. My first thought was to head for the airport and get an earlier flight, but I couldn’t stand the fucking thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Caleb.
“When’s your story time, Buddy?” I ask him as Esmeralda puts the microwaved pancakes in front of me.
“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Larson coming?”
“Yes, I’ll come.”
He claps his hands and his whole face lights up, and I know I made the right decision to come back to the house. If only for little Caleb’s sake.
“It’s very soon,” Esmeralda says. “Thirty minutes.”
I look at my phone. No text from Brynn. I decide to take charge. I don’t want to sound accusatory or clingy, but I also need to know what the fuck’s going on.
Heading to story time with Caleb, I text her. Maybe we can meet you for lunch?
By the time that I’m done with my Mickey Mouse pancakes, there’s still no response text from Brynn.
“You ready for story time, Caleb?” I ask, and he nods eagerly.
“You coming with us?” I ask Esmeralda.
“You can take him,” she says, and hands me a lunch box featuring Lightening McQueen on its front.
She puts a little backpack on Caleb and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
“Besitos,” she says, and they kiss each other on each cheek. It’s a more sophisticated goodbye than I’ve ever given anyone in my life, and the kid’s a fucking toddler.
As we walk down the stairs outside the front of their brownstone, I turn towards the subway station but Caleb yanks on my hand.
“Come on,” I tell him. “Gotta ride the train.”
He laughs and points to a black limo that’s pulled over across the street.
“Driver,” he says.
“Really? You have a—”
I stop myself before I curse.
Of course the kid has a fucking driver. His mom makes a shit ton of money by having to work on Sundays and schmooze with assholes. And ditch her weekend out of town date.
But at least I have Caleb— and his fancy driver— to keep me company. I can’t help but shake my head and chuckle at myself, which is something I find myself doing a lot now, that I hadn’t done for a long time before I met Brynn or Caleb.
Life had seemed humorless for so long. But now I’m cracking up at the thought that the company of a little kid brings me so much joy.
What the hell has gotten into me? And how can I knock it off, now that I know Brynn might not be all that she seems?
Chapter 31 – Larson
“Hey there,” I say to the driver of the limo as he gets out to open the door for Caleb and me.
He just nods at me like he’s trying to be polite but also like he’s not really supposed to talk to me.
As we head downtown, Caleb sings a little song that’s almost as cute as he is.
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout…”
He bounces around in the toddler car seat that had already been installed in the limo and that the driver had buckled him into, obviously excited.
“Larson coming story time!” He announces proudly once he’s done with his song.
“I sure am, Buddy,” I tell him.
I look out at the window at the beautifully colored falling leaves and try to enjoy the moment. Part of me is upset about Brynn but part of me is touched that Caleb is so happy I’m spending the day with him.
Another part of me feels an obvious yearning for what I’m supposed to have but don’t. I thought maybe I had regained some of that with Brynn and Caleb but now I don’t know what to think.
I’m silent— and so is Caleb, except for some quiet humming— until we arrive at the New York Public Library. And then I’m just fucking in awe of the place.
It looks like a fucking train station or house of Parliament or something. It’s so large and ornate, with more books than I would think it possible for all of humanity to read.
“This way,” Caleb says, trotting towards one of the many rooms.
I follow him to a round rug where a lot of children are already gathered. A librarian is asking them what they want to read first.
“Miss Bonnie!” he says, hugging her.
“Why hello there Mr. Caleb,” she says, returning the hug and then looking up at me. “Who did you bring with you today?”
“Larson,” Caleb says proudly. “Gen-tle-man friend.”
“Is that so?” Miss Bonnie says, trying hard not to laugh.
It’s definitely fucking funny— Caleb is always a hoot. But I’m trying hard not to die of embarrassment. What is this lady going to think of the fact that Caleb’s fancy lawyer mom is dating a scruffy, tattooed guy who walks around in a motorcycle jacket?
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“I assume he means Mommy’s gentleman friend,” Miss Bonnie says. “Nice to meet you, Larson.”
She shakes my hand warmly and her eyes are twinkling. I realize then that she was truly only laughing at Caleb’s child-like innocence. She isn’t judging me.
I feel relief, but then I realize that perhaps she’s never even met Brynn.
As if answering my question, Miss Bonnie asks Caleb, “Where’s Esmeralda today?”
I can’t help but feel a wave of disbelief. If I still had a fucking kid, I’d be at story time every week with him— or any other time he might want to go anywhere.
I understand that Brynn has to work and I know from what she’s told me how hard it is for her to be away from Caleb for a job she doesn’t even like. So I’m not judging her but I just fucking feel bad for her. For both of them. There has got to be a better way.
“Esie stay home,” Caleb answers. “Larson come story time.”
“Well, tell Esmeralda I said hello,” Miss Bonnie says. “And Larson, you are certainly welcome any time. Go ahead and take a seat.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that this is probably the only time I’ll be here— that it looks like things between Caleb’s mommy and her gentleman friend aren’t working out quite as well as said gentleman friend had hoped.
I sit on a folding chair next to a bunch of grandmas, nannies, mommies and a few dads. Everyone nods at me politely but some of them look at me funny, since I’m obviously a bit out of place.
Caleb joins the other kids in the circle. Miss Bonnie reads them Peter Rabbit. Then she leads them in some kind of hopping game I’ve never seen and Caleb keeps looking back at me as he jumps around. I give him a thumbs up and he smiles.
“Next, it’s time for a craft,” Miss Bonnie says. “The grown ups you came with can help you make them.”
She passes out a sock to each child that they’re supposed to decorate to look like a rabbit and put on their hand to look like a puppet.
“I’m not very good at crafts,” I tell Caleb, as I try my best to stick a cotton ball approximately where the rabbit’s tail should be.
“That’s okay!” Caleb says, as he bends some pipe cleaner to make the sock bunny’s ears.
After a while, we have ourselves a decent looking rabbit.
“Hop hop!” Caleb says, making his arm— and the rabbit— jump up and down.
Miss Bonnie reads more books— mostly rabbit-themed— and then a snack: carrots, of course, as well as crackers and a tiny egg-shaped chocolate for each kid. They also sing Little Bunny Foo Foo, pretending to scoop up field mice and bop them on the head.
All the kids including Caleb love it and I have to fucking admire the organization that goes into this story time for toddlers. It’s almost as impressive as the library itself.
“Okay, it’s almost time to end for today,” says Miss Bonnie, and all the kids groan. “Time to sing one more song.”
Bunnies love to hop, llamas love to chew…
Caleb joins in and looks at me as if he expects me to, but I’ve never heard of this song. I just smile and nod at him in encouragement. He does motions along with the other kids to the song.
Birdies love to tweet and I love you.
At this part, he motions towards his chest, then crosses his heart and then points at me. I almost want to fucking cry.
“Awww, thanks kid,” I tell him.
But the song’s not over yet. Miss Bonnie must have made it today’s mission to tug on my heart strings just a little more.
Horses love to gallop, owls love to hoooooo,
Doggies like to bark and I love you!
If that isn’t the cutest song, sung by the cutest living kid, then I don’t know what is.
“Have a good day, kids!” Miss Bonnie says, by way of dismissing them.
Caleb gets a running start and then jumps into my lap. He hugs me, and I hug him back, really tight.
“Thank you for coming story time!” he says.
“Thank you for inviting me, Little Man.”
We walk down to Bryant Park and sit down in the grass. It’s not as cold as it was yesterday, which is good because we can sit outside for a little while.
Caleb’s not too hungry since he just ate a snack but he eats half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some goldfish crackers. He thinks it’s hilarious to make the goldfish swim up to his mouth, just so he can bite their heads off. What a funny little guy. There’s also a ham and cheese sandwich in the lunch box.
“I guess this is for me,” I tell Caleb with a shrug, remembering how Brynn had told me that Esmeralda made her lunches.
“Esie made!” he says. “Yum yum yum.”
However much money that woman makes, she most definitely deserves a raise.
I eat my sandwich— I’m always hungry— and Caleb and I wash it all down with a juice box (his) and a bottle of water (mine).
“You ready to head back home, buddy?” I ask him.
He nods.
As he takes my hand and we trudge back to the limo, I wonder if he’s wishing his mom could be with us. But he hasn’t mentioned anything, and I figure he’s probably used to not having her around.
All signs are pointing in the direction of me getting used to that too, if I want whatever we have to go anywhere further. And I’m thinking that that doesn’t sound like much of a relationship. So I guess this isn’t going to work out after all.
Chapter 32 – Larson
I still haven’t received a text or call from Brynn. I’m hoping that she’ll be there when Caleb and I get back to their house, although I know it’s a foolish hope.
“You two have fun?” Esmeralda asks me, after she answers the door.
While we were gone, she’d cleaned the already near- spotless house.
“We did,” I tell her. “Thanks for the sandwich. You’re amazing.”
“No gentleman friend of Brynn’s can go hungry while he’s here,” she says.
“Speaking of Brynn,” I say, as Caleb laughs at the phrase “gentleman friend” again, “You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
She shakes her head.
“No. Brynn gets very busy at work. She’s a very hard worker.”
“Mommy working,” Caleb says, going into the living room to play with his cars.
“I didn’t think you’d heard from her,” I tell her. “But I was just double checking. Thanks.”
And I was making sure I wouldn’t get to see her before I have to leave for the airport.
I think that part, but don’t say it.
I look at my phone. Time to leave for my flight. And still no text.
I head into the living room where Caleb is having his helicopter toy rescue his car toy.
“Vroom vroom!” he’s saying. “Round round round round round.”
I make a mental note to bring him a motorcycle toy if I ever see him again.
“Goodbye, little buddy,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “It’s time for me to go.”
“Nooooooo!” Caleb says, beginning to cry.
I wrap my arms tightly around him, and he returns the tight hug, laying his head on my shoulder as he cries.
“I had a very fun day with you,” I tell him. “You be a big boy and have fun playing with Esmeralda now.”
“Okay,” he says, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve.
Esmeralda appears with a tissue, as always knowing exactly what Caleb needs.
He sobs a little bit into the tissue but he’s already toughening up.
“Bye, Esmeralda,” I tell her, and hug her too.
I don’t know if it’s because she’s so awesome or because I need a little bit of comforting. This is definitely not how I thought my last day in New York City would go.
“Goodbye, Larson,” she says, a surprised smile spreading across her face. “Come back soon.”
It’s sweet that Esmeralda seems to like me as much as I like her. I seem to be doing a great job of winning over everyone e
xcept Brynn— and Brynn’s the only one I’ve tried to impress so hard.
And by hard, I mean fast and furious and sweet and slow and everything in between, in the sack of course. Brynn had sure seemed to love it. But apparently she didn’t love it enough to refrain from running out on me the morning after.
I pick up my bag, pretending I hadn’t heard that last part because I don’t know what to say in return.
“You can take the limo,” Esmeralda says, and punches something into her cell phone.
“Oh no, I couldn’t…” I start to say, but she puts a finger up to her lips.
“I already told him to come back for you.”
“But doesn’t Brynn need him to take her home from work?”
“It probably won’t be for a while,” Esmeralda says, her eyes downcast. “And her work has cars too.”
A chill runs through me as I realize that Brynn could take a car home with Clay. At least I won’t be here anymore to have to see that. Or to get in the way of their schmoozing, or whatever it might be.
“Well, I accept then, thank you,” I tell Esmeralda, and head out to the stoop to wait for the car to swing back around.
I’m taking a fucking limo back to the airport. Free of charge.
This should be the best day of my life.
But, except for the time I spent with Caleb and the memory of his small hands on my back as his arms were wrapped around me in a goodbye hug, it’s turned out to be one of the worst.
I need to forget about Brynn Elliot. I still don’t know exactly what’s going on and I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt but the fact that she didn’t even contact me all fucking day long is inexcusable.
She thinks she can just leave a note by the bed and go to brunch with a billionaire and forget about me during my trip out here, and that I’ll excuse it because of what? Her fucking banging curves? Those sultry eyes? The way her laugh is genuine and sincere?
Sure, those things are all great. And I’ll definitely miss them. But nothing good could come out of a relationship with a workaholic at best and someone who sneaks around behind my back at worst.
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