by Noelle Adams
“Baron, you can just ignore him. Pretend he doesn’t exist. That’s what you did when you were boys. This is exactly what he wants—to come in and mess things up for you. Don’t let him do it. Do you think you can... Do you think you can just walk away from him?”
Baron swallowed so hard she saw it in his throat. “I don’t know,” he said, the words barely a breath. “Can I?”
“I think you can.”
He seemed to shake himself off. “Maybe. I know you’re right about all of this, but I just need some time to process it.”
Leila understood. She felt a little rejected but she understood. “Do you want to be alone? I can stay—if you want me to.”
He considered this for longer than she’d expected, but he finally shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Thank you.”
She stood up, feeling uncertain and worried and kind of silly. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Baron stood up too. Then he suddenly looked at her with intense scrutiny, his hand moving up to cup her face. Like his brother had earlier that day. But nothing like his brother at all. “Are you all right? I should have asked before. I know dealing with him couldn’t have been easy.”
“I’m fine. It was revolting. But I’m fine. I’m worried about you.”
“I know you are. Thank you.”
To her surprise, he leaned down to kiss her softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Thanks for coming over. For telling me.”
She felt a little better—like Baron, and their whole relationship, wasn’t about to fall apart completely. “You’re welcome.”
He walked her to the door, where he kissed her again.
“Oh,” she said, hardly believing she almost forgot. She pulled the construction-paper card out of her purse. “The girls made this for you this evening.”
Baron stared down at the folded paper. There was a crayon castle with two horses, four flags, and a king with armor and crown on the front. Inside, they’d written out in their best printing, “We think you are great, Mr. Baron. Thank you for everything. Charlotte and Jane.”
Baron stared down at the childish lettering for way too long.
Leila reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Don’t stay up all night brooding. All right?”
He looked up at her with a slightly dazed expression.
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Good night, Baron.”
Leila left feeling much better than she had when she’d come. She was still worried about Baron, that he’d sit up all night drinking and brooding or that he’d go and beat his brother to a bloody pulp.
But he hadn’t exploded. He'd liked the girls’ card.
Leila couldn't help but think—couldn't help but hope—that if they could make it through this, maybe they could make it through everything.
Twelve
Baron didn’t sleep well.
He didn’t sleep at all.
He did exactly what Leila had told him not to do. He stayed up all night, drinking Scotch and brooding on his options in dealing with his brother.
So he felt like hell the following morning. He got to his office just as the sun was rising and attacked his email inbox until 8:15.
Leila’s office hours started at eight on Thursday mornings. She answered after only one ring. “Hey there. How are you?”
“I’m all right. How about you?” Mundane, routine words, but it meant something that she genuinely seemed to care.
“I’m tired and crabby and really don’t want to teach today.”
Baron’s head felt heavy and his eyes were overly dry, but he chuckled at her blunt confession. “I wouldn’t want to teach either. Thanks for coming over last night.”
“Of course.” She paused briefly. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Not much.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got six meetings scheduled back-to-back, starting at nine-thirty, so I guess that’s what I’ll do.”
“Oh. What about...?” Her voice trailed off, but he knew exactly what she was going to ask.
“I don’t know. I’m too angry now. If I confront him, it wouldn’t end well. And I don’t want a confrontation. I just want to...” This time, he was the one who trailed off. But he knew what he wanted to say.
He wanted to end it. He wanted to escape. He wanted to walk away from the battle unwounded.
He wasn’t sure it was possible.
“If you can walk away,” Leila said, as if she had read his mind, “that would be... good.”
He wanted to. He had to fight this one round regarding the will—he owed it to his father—but after that, he would try to walk away.
“Do you still want to go to the movie with us tomorrow night?” Leila asked.
The way he felt right now, trying to handle a children’s movie with Leila and the girls would be an Olympian feat.
He remembered that card the girls had made for him. How much the reminder that they cared about him had meant to him last night.
They would be really disappointed if he bailed on them.
So would Leila.
“Yeah, I’ll still go.”
“Good.” Something soft was evident in her voice, even over the phone. “I’m glad.”
“I’ll come over to your place around six tomorrow then.”
“Sounds good.” She added after a pause, “You can come over tonight if you want. Or, if you’d rather, I can ask my dad to stay with the girls, and I can come over to your place.”
Baron closed his eyes briefly. In some ways, the idea of spending the night in Leila’s arms was like a lifeline. But MaryAnn had packed about ten days’ worth of work into the next two.
“Thanks,” he said, trying to make it clear he meant it. “But I think I’ll have to work most of this evening.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t clear from her voice whether her feelings were hurt by his rejection. “I’m here. If you need me.”
He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. He’d drunk too much, and his head wasn’t as clear as it should be.
But none of that adequately excused the rasp in his voice as he answered, “Thank you.”
* * *
Baron saw MaryAnn’s face as he walked out of his office and past her desk at five-forty-five the following evening, and he knew he was in for a lecture.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?” She looked up at him from her desk chair.
“I’ve got plans this evening. I’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Did you finish going over the—”
“I’ll finish them first thing tomorrow morning.” He tried very hard not to sound as frustrated as he felt.
“You also still need to return calls.” She handed him a ridiculously long list of messages she’d taken since lunch. “Some of these can’t wait until tomorrow. You understand, right, that if you don’t do your job, then the whole company comes to a screeching halt?”
Baron’s chest was starting to feel tight. He reached out for the list of calls to return. “Yes, I understand that. I’ll knock some of these out in the car on the way over.”
“You need to return the first eight on that list this evening.”
“Got it.” There was no way he could make eight calls in the time it took to drive over to Leila’s. Maybe he could step out of the movie for a short time to finish them up.
He took a deep breath around the tightness. “Have a good evening. Try not to work too late.”
He was walking away when a “Mr. James” from MaryAnn stopped him.
He paused and turned around, so she went on, “Your father poured his life into this company. It’s his legacy. It’s what he left for the world now that he’s gone. He was counting on you to preserve his legacy.”
The tightness moved into Baron’s throat. “I know that. I know that.”
“He always made whatever sacrifice was in the best interest of the company.”
“I know that,” Baron gritted out. On
e of those sacrifices had been time spent with his sons.
His father had told him when he was a boy that he needed to focus on priorities and let what wasn’t as important just slip away.
“He would expect you to do the same.”
“I know that too.”
He turned to leave, his lungs constricted to such a point that he literally couldn’t breathe.
He walked down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, and he could breathe again when he’d reached the bottom.
***
Baron only got three calls made before he reached Leila’s house.
Charlotte won the race to open the door at his knock, and she gave him a quick hug before relinquishing him to Jane, who had a number of questions about the eating habits of African elephants, prompted by the animated movie they were going to see.
Before they got too bogged down in the impending inquisition, Baron showed the girls the gifts he’d brought for them.
The girls squealed in joy and hauled their life-sized stuffed hounds into the house, instinctively understanding that they were to go in the castle to go hunting with the knights.
The girls dragged them down the hall, shouting for Mommy to come see.
Leila expressed appropriate admiration when she emerged from the bedroom, and she told the girls to hurry and put the dogs in the castle so they wouldn’t be late for the movie.
But she was frowning as she joined Baron in the living room. “They’re too expensive, Baron.”
He gave a half-shrug. “They’re just toys. They liked them.”
“I know they liked them, but they aren’t just trinkets. They must have cost a lot of money.”
The hound dogs had been absurdly expensive for toys, but that wasn’t something Baron even considered. “You know that’s not an issue with me.”
“It is for me.” Leila looked torn between tenderness and firmness. ”You don’t have to bring them presents every time you visit, Baron.”
He was a little uncomfortable with the conversation, and he couldn’t imagine why it was a big deal. “I want to.”
“It might be better if you don’t.”
Baron was surprised and disappointed by her reaction. He’d thought at least here, at Leila's, he wouldn’t have to worry about letting someone down. But he nodded briefly and didn’t argue.
Leila sighed and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him into a soft hug. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve had a bad week. I shouldn’t have brought it up today. I think it’s so great of you to treat my girls so amazingly.”
Baron put an arm around her waist, feeling a little less rebuffed. “I like them.”
Leila was smiling as she peered into his face. “I know you do. But you know you don’t have to keep buying them things to make them love you, don’t you?”
He blinked, taken aback by the question. He didn’t want to deal with this issue right now. He wasn’t sure he was emotionally equipped for it at the moment.
He realized that what he had to offer the girls was limited, and gift-giving was one of those things.
Leila stretched up to kiss him softly. “They already love you.”
“I named my dog Hunter,” Jane announced, galloping back into the living room with Charlotte right behind her. “Charlotte was mad at first because she wanted that name, but then she decided her dog could be named Huntie.”
“Hunter and Huntie,” Baron said, managing with effort to keep a straight face. “Excellent choices.”
***
The movie theater was crowded, and they had to stand in line to get their tickets and then stand in line again to get the popcorn, soda, and candy combo that the girls had their hearts set on.
As they waited in the snack line, Leila decided she better use the restroom before the movie started, so Baron stood in line alone with Charlotte and Jane.
Jane was staring around wide-eyed at the crowds. Her hair was pulled into her usual ponytails, today wrapped in purple ribbons to match her purple and white outfit. When a little boy raced across the lobby and accidentally bumped into her, she stepped closer to Baron and reached up to take his hand.
She hadn’t even looked at him—just reached for him instinctively when she was nervous.
Charlotte had been waiting impatiently, her hands on her little hips, for the line that didn’t seem to move. With a huff, she flounced closer to Baron. “It’s taking forever!”
“It does seem to be a very slow line.”
“Mr. Baron,” Charlotte asked, leaning against him now. “Are you sad tonight?”
“Sad? No. Why would you say that?”
“You look sad.” Charlotte gave him a quick, tight hug around the waist. “I don’t want you to be sad.”
Emotion he just wasn’t used to buffeted Baron’s head and chest. “I’m not sad, sweetheart,” he said, putting a hand on her blond head. “I’m not.”
“Okay.” She grinned up at him then, her sudden smile as sunny as her mother’s. “The movie will be good and make you laugh.”
Baron smiled. Then glanced down at Jane on the other side of him. She was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You didn’t call me ‘sweetheart’.”
Baron froze momentarily—trapped in a snare he had never predicted. He hadn’t even been conscious of using the endearment in his conversation with Charlotte.
He was saved from trying to extricate himself from this tangle by Leila’s arrival. “What’s wrong?” she asked, taking note of Jane’s hand in Baron’s and her frowning face.
“Mr. Baron called Charlotte ‘sweetheart’ but not me.”
Leila gave Baron a baffled look.
He responded with a helpless shrug.
“He was telling me he wasn’t sad,” Charlotte explained, as if this solved all the confusion. Then she turned to Baron. “Daddy sometimes calls us ‘cupcakes’. Two little cupcakes.”
Baron thought that was absolutely ridiculous, but he already had a very low opinion of the girls’ father.
“Finally!” Charlotte announced, when their turn in line arrived at last. She stepped forward to give her order to the bored woman behind the counter.
Seeing Jane was still frowning, Baron wondered if he should say something to make her feel better, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make him feel like a fool.
He remembered—in such visceral detail that his stomach gave a painful twist—how he felt when his father had been too busy to spend any time with him, had told him not to bother him when he’d been a child and tried to ask him questions.
He remembered how he'd felt the other night when he'd gotten the card the girls made for him.
Baron gave one of Jane’s ponytails a little tug. “You’re a sweetheart too,” he told her, leaning down as he spoke and hoping no one else heard him say such a foolish thing.
Jane smiled up at him radiantly in response.
If Leila heard, she pretended not to.
* * *
The movie wasn’t as bad as he feared. It was cleverly written, with enough humor for adults to tolerate even though it was intended for children.
The girls behaved themselves very well, watching the screen with intent focus and laughing or gasping at all the right times. When it was over, they burst into a running commentary, seeking affirmation from Baron and Leila about everything that happened and didn’t happen in the movie.
The four of them fought their way through the madhouse of the theater lobby, caught in a conflicting stampede of moviegoers coming and going. Baron managed to carve out a path for them to the exit, and he was holding the door when a boy pushed through to exit the building before them.
Baron just gave the kid a silent glare and waited for Leila, Jane, and Charlotte to make their way out.
As they were heading to his car, idling at the curb in the best spot thanks to his excellent driver, Baron heard the mother of the pushy boy chiding him for his rudeness. “You pushed right in front of th
at family who was leaving,” the mother said.
It took Baron a moment to process—as Leila and the girls got into the back of his car—that the mother was talking about them.
As the girls chatted and giggled about the elephant antics in the film on the way home, Baron fell into silent distraction.
He wasn't part of this family.
He was just dating Leila, after all, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he would end up being the same kind of husband and father that his own father had been.
His brother was all the family he had left.
To shake that thought away, he pulled out his phone to see what he’d missed when he’d turned it off during the movie.
His chest tightened as he saw the number of missed calls.
He scrolled through them. MaryAnn. Howard. MaryAnn. A woman he was supposed to have called this evening but hadn’t gotten to yet. Howard. MaryAnn. MaryAnn. MaryAnn. MaryAnn.
Something must have happened. She didn’t call him like that without reason.
“Is everything all right?” Leila asked softly, evidently seeing something in his face.
“Yeah. Just work.”
“It’s Friday evening. Can’t you just keep the phone off?”
He swallowed over a familiar tightness. “I can’t. I’ll have to go back to work after I drop you all off.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something is always happening.”
“I was hoping you could spend the night with us.”
She didn’t sound angry or resentful. She sounded disappointed.
Baron’s chest started to constrict.
He’d never been in a relationship like this. Not once in all his life. But he was learning they took a lot of work, time, emotional investment, commitment.
He didn’t have enough of any of those things. There wasn’t enough left of him to give to Leila and the girls what they deserved.
They’d end up with a man who could only give them crumbs, the way his own father had.
It suddenly became clear to Baron, sitting in the back of the car on his way back from an animated movie.
He’d seen a world he wanted from a distance growing up—Leila and Dave and their parents, the kind of happy family he’d never had.