by Whitley Cox
Blaire’s throat bobbed on a hard swallow.
Liam’s eyes flicked back to Carlyle. “Seems pretty stupid to me to be applying for a mortgage and trying to buy a house when you’re between jobs there, Carl, but what do I know?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Blaire’s voice was getting higher with each question.
Carlyle’s eyes went buggy, and he turned to face his lawyer. “They can’t do this.”
Bertram cleared his throat. “I’ll handle this.” He turned back to Tessa and her legal counsel. “We’re prepared to offer joint custody, with Mr. Rickson maintaining the dog eighty percent of the time.”
Eighty percent?
He had to be joking.
Richelle made a rude noise. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I think that’s more than fair,” Carlyle said, sitting back in his chair, suddenly seeming content with things again. “Especially given the way things will go soon enough.”
What the heck did he mean by that?
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Atlas practically snarled.
Carlyle turned his head and shook it, pinning his eyes on Atlas. “Has she not told you? Has she kept it a secret from you too?”
“What secret?” Atlas asked, not looking at Tessa but keeping his eyes laser-focused on Carlyle.
Carlyle rolled his eyes. “So she’s hidden her mother from you too then. Until you’ve fallen for her and know it would look bad to leave her after you see the train wreck that is Tessa Copeland’s life. That could and will be your life, your future if you stay with her.”
Tessa’s body went ice-cold, and she began to shiver. What on earth had she ever done to Carlyle to make him treat her like this? Yes, she’d waited for their relationship to be solid before she introduced him to her mother, but that was more self-preservation than anything. Had she been wrong? Was she a horrible daughter, a horrible partner, keeping her mother’s illness a secret until she knew she and Carlyle were serious? Is the mental state of your parents something you should disclose before you’ve even gone past second base? She had no idea of the dating rules anymore.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Atlas stood up, his hands on the table in front of him as he hinged forward toward Carlyle. “I’ve met her mother. Whatever you’re fucking going on about, Rickson, you better fucking spit it out now.”
“Or else what?” Bertram asked. “Mr. Stark, did you just threaten my client?”
“Sit down, Atlas,” Tessa whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his coat. “It’s okay.”
He sat down, but heated rage radiated off him like a superconductor.
“Hmm, Mr. Stark, was that you threatening my client just now?” Bertram probed again. The sheen of his greased-up hair glinted as the afternoon sun shone in through the windows. Made the man look extra sleazy, if that were at all possible.
“No threat, Bert,” Atlas said through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t think so,” Bertram replied.
“But I would like to know what the fuck your client is talking about. What secret he insists my client is keeping.”
“I think we’d all like to know,” Richelle said. Tessa had almost forgotten the woman was there, she’d been so quiet.
Carlyle rolled his eyes. “Fine. She’s losing her fucking mind, and she knows it. Her mother was or is or whatever, manic-depressive. Was for most of Tessa’s life. And now her mother is in a home for people with early-onset Alzheimer’s. The woman isn’t even sixty, and she already needs help going to the bathroom. I think that’s something you should disclose on the first, if not the second date with someone, don’t you think? Someone you might have a future with, might have children with. But Tessa kept that shit a secret from me, kept her mother a secret from me for nearly a year. She was ashamed, embarrassed. Which is all the more unappealing. Someone who is ashamed of their parent because they’re ill.” His brows lifted. “Wow.”
Atlas growled beside her, and his fists bunched until his knuckles shone white.
“I only met her father, and he was told to keep hush about her mother because, and I quote, ‘If I introduce men to my mom too soon, they might run for the hills.’ From the horse’s mouth, your honor.”
“There’s no judge here, you fucking shit stain,” Aaron muttered. “Even I know that.”
Zak guffawed, as did Mason.
Liam turned to face Tessa. “Is this true?”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she hung her head low. “It is.”
“Fuck all of this. And fuck you, Rickson. I don’t see how any of that has to do with the fact that you stole my client’s goddamn dog. Whoever called you a shit stain was accurate as hell,” Richelle called out into the room. “Let’s get back to the topic at hand here, which is the skid mark dog thief and getting my client some motherfucking justice.”
“Were you a sailor in a past life?” Bertram asked, making a disgusted face.
“I was a pirate, you dipshit, and I’ll feed you to the crocodile if you don’t start talking some sense into your client. Time is money, people, and you’re wasting mine.”
Tessa glanced up from beneath her lashes. Liam had a shit-eating grin on his face and was trying to contain his laughter. Now was not the time for her to be thinking such things, but it warmed her heart a couple of degrees to know that Liam was in fact madly in love with Richelle. The look on his face right now was pure pride. Pure love.
“It was the last time we went and saw your mother,” Carlyle went on, all smug. “When she walked out of her bathroom without a top or bra on, asked me if I was the doctor and if I could inspect the mole between her breasts.”
Heat flooded Tessa’s cheeks, and her eyes flicked down to where her hands now knitted and twisted in her lap.
“After that day, I did a lot of research on Alzheimer’s. You know you’re probably a carrier. Which means our kids would most likely get the gene as well.”
“Aren’t you a biologist? A scientist?” Zak asked with skepticism. “Wouldn’t you like proof before you snapped to judgment?”
“Seems awfully unscientific to me,” Mason added.
“Mhmm,” Zak replied. “Awfully unprofessional.”
“Fuckin’ douchey is what it was.” Aaron’s deep voice sounded bored.
Carlyle did nothing more than glare at the three men standing behind her. “I already saw the signs with Tessa. As a scientist, I know the fucking signs.”
“You’re a biologist, not a psychiatrist,” Atlas spat out. “Your diagnosis would not hold up in court, and it doesn’t hold up here. You’re grasping at straws, trying to find a reason to be an asshole.”
“I’ll warn you to keep your temper in check toward my client, Mr. Stark,” Bertram said with arrogance, straightening his tie but only making it more crooked in his efforts.
Blaire smiled and glanced at her father with pride.
Carlyle continued to blather on because apparently now that he was ready to tell the world why he left Tessa, he wasn’t prepared to stop. “Seeing your mother like that, it was like a horrible preview of how my life would be in ten, fifteen years. That I’d been roped into the caregiver role, the nurse role, rather than the husband. Goodbye to family vacations, getting laid, having a normal life. Certainly not the life I wanted for myself.”
Another set of hot tears slipped down Tessa’s cheeks, but she didn’t lift her head. Atlas’s hand fell to her shoulder, and he squeezed. The tension she felt mounting beneath his palm was fierce, and she worried she was going to snap soon. “Then why didn’t you just end it?” Tessa whispered. “Why put me through all of this?”
Atlas swung his gaze to Carlyle.
Oh, the man had heard her. His face said it all.
“Because he wanted to make sure he found someone else, found somewhere else to live before he ended it with you,” Atlas struggled to say through gnashed molars. His fists bunched beneath the table as it took every modicum of self-restraint he had not to lunge across the
table and strangle Carlyle.
Carlyle’s lip twitched. “Between your mother’s manic depression and now the Alzheimer’s, I knew you were a ticking time bomb. I just didn’t know how bad it could get until that day with your mother … until I did the research myself. Then on the occasion when you’d forget where you put your keys, forget an item on the grocery list or what we had for breakfast on that trip to Lopez Island, even though you asked me what it was like a dozen times. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was changing your soiled diapers and hiding the knobs on the oven so you didn’t burn the house down.” He shrugged. “I thought that by taking Forest I was doing him a favor. Doing you a favor. One less thing to forget. What’s to say one day you don’t go all crazy like your mother and try to kill the dog? Or start losing your mind and memory and then forget to feed him?”
Atlas’s blood bubbled through his veins. This man was the epitome of a terrible human being. Atlas had met a lot of scum over the years in his line of work but never one as blatantly malicious and out to hurt as Carlyle.
Tessa was sniffling gently beside him, her head hung low, hair covering her face.
Carlyle lifted a brow toward Atlas. “Not sure if you’re just her lawyer, but like I said, she’s a ticking time bomb.” He rapped his knuckles on the table twice, then stood up. “I’m done fighting over this. If you want to be selfish and take the dog, then fine. I’ll pick him up from the pound when you wander out into the street in your underwear and the neighbors call the cops on you. That is, if you don’t starve the poor dog first.”
“Why, you mother—” Richelle started, but Carlyle cut her off.
“Miss LaRue, you’ve won. Give it up.” He faced Tessa again. “I’m done with you. Give me my comics, my records and the two grand … better yet, make it three and we have a deal.”
Tessa began to tremble.
“Two grand,” Richelle retorted. Atlas could feel the woman’s rage emanating over the phone. “Don’t get greedy, Mr. Rickson, or I will come after your fucking kidneys.”
Carlyle rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five hundred, leave my job alone, and don’t get in the way of my house-hunting.”
“It just dropped to fifteen hundred, you motherfucker,” Atlas ground out.
“Atlas,” Tessa whispered, her hand on his arm. “I just want my dog back.”
Fuck!
Through clenched teeth and bunched fists, it was like tearing the words out. “Two grand and not a penny more. You can take your fucking comics and records.”
“But I’m afraid I can’t hire you,” Adam cut in. “I’ve seen what kind of a person you are, Mr. Rickson, and I hire team players. Kind people. And you are neither. Besides, as a scientist, I would expect more from you. Research, results, proper data to back up your findings. You abandoned Miss Copeland based on a bit of reading and a hunch. That is not the type of person I want in one of my labs. That is not the type of person I want representing the university. Best of luck in your future career opportunities.”
Carlyle’s mouth opened.
“Take the deal, man,” Liam said. “I’ll call off the cavalry and you can buy your house. Can’t do anything about the job though, that shit’s on you and that bad attitude of yours.”
“Offer expires in ten seconds, then we take this before a judge,” Richelle said. “And that’s where I fucking shine.”
“Like the goddamn sun,” Liam added.
That’s what he was fucking talking about.
Who better than to take a simple civil case and turn it into the next War of the Roses than Liam Dixon and Richelle LaRue? They didn’t even know it, but they were the fucking dream team.
Carlyle’s nostrils flared, and his face picked up a shade of red Atlas usually only saw on a constipated child. “You can have the fucking dog. I tried to be kind, give him a better life, but I can see your troops are prepared to leave me with nothing if I don’t bend.”
“I leave my enemies with nothing,” Richelle replied. “I’d leave you with less. Just remember that.”
A tick in Carlyle’s jaw told Atlas they had him. The man exhaled. “I’ll have Forest ready for you to come by and pick him up within the hour.” He glanced at Tessa with disappointment in his eyes. She still hadn’t even lifted her head. Clucking his tongue, he headed toward the door. “I have to say though, he’s really taken to Blaire. She’s going to miss him.”
“Shut up,” Richelle snapped over the phone.
With a giant smile on his face, Liam stood up and pushed the agreement in front of Carlyle. “Everything is right there in black and white. The dog for the comics, records and a one-time payment of two thousand dollars. After that you will have no legal claim to the property in question ever again.”
Sneering, Carlyle scanned the document. Bertram snatched it and read it, as did Blaire, but Atlas doubted the ditz understood half of what she read.
“Looks fine,” Bertram muttered.
Carlyle reached for the pen from the table and scrawled his name on the dotted line.
“Don’t forget to initial where it’s highlighted,” Liam reminded him sweetly.
With a glare that coasted across each and every one of their faces, Carlyle initialed atop the yellow highlighter the pushed the document back toward Liam. He set it in front of Tessa and she signed where she had to.
“Looks like we’re done here,” Liam said with a satisfied exhale, taking the paper back from Tessa. “I’ll forward a copy of this to Mr. Tomasino and Miss Copland will be sure to have your property with her when she collects the dog.”
Carlyle stood up, shaking his head and glaring at Tessa. “Good luck with the mashed potato brains, Tess. I really was just trying to do best by the dog.” Then, shaking his head like he somehow still held all the cards and Atlas was a fool and Tessa a crazy person, he held his hand out for Blaire, and the two of them left the conference room.
“Well, that was a massive waste of time,” Bert muttered as he stowed his papers back into his briefcase and left.
“See ya, Bertie,” Zak called after him.
Bert only glanced back, then hustled down the hallway and out of sight.
“Good job, team,” Richelle replied.
“Agreed.” Liam nodded.
“We won, right?” Zak asked. “Tessa gets her dog back. Skidmark McFuckface and his ditzy little sidepiece are giving her back the dog?”
“That’s correct,” Liam said.
“Seems like a big waste of fucking time,” Aaron muttered. “We could have just gone to his apartment and strong-armed the dog from him. Next time let’s just do that.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Richelle said blandly
“Can we sue him for wasting our time?” Mason asked. “The lawyer he hired was a fucking joke.”
Atlas rested his hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “You okay?” She was cradling her stomach now, and the woman looked like she was ready to vomit. She’d had that same look on her face yesterday when he’d surprised her after her defense and then again when he went to her house to make sure she was okay.
Was she okay?
As much as he tried to push them out of his head, Carlyle’s words came back at him. Tessa’s mother was a manic-depressive and had Alzheimer’s. And Tessa had kept that all from him. Did she already know she carried the genes? Did she already see the signs hitting her? Did she only have ten or fifteen good years left?
It took her several moments to reply. Her head bobbed, just barely. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re getting Forest back. That’s better than fine,” Mason said, resting his hand on Tessa’s shoulders. “I say we head to Prime to go celebrate. Richelle, you in?”
“Nice try, boys. But I’ve got other work to do. I’ll call you later, Tessa, okay?”
Tessa’s voice sounded hollow and distracted as she agreed.
Liam stood, followed by Adam. “Well, that was fucking weird, but I’m glad it’s over. A bit anticlimactic if you ask me. I was hoping to go afte
r his assets, maybe his fish tank, his stamp collection. His mother’s pearls.”
All this was said in jest, of course. They couldn’t go after a damn thing now that it was all done. But it was nice to joke about it.
“Fish tank?” Adam asked with a raised brow.
Liam shrugged. “I don’t think Richelle is finished with him. She hates having her time wasted.” He rested a hand on Tessa’s arm. “You want the man’s balls? Richelle will castrate him for you, and hand you his wrinkly grapes in a nice little gift bag, trust me.”
“I just want Forest back,” she whispered, still not really looking at anyone.
Liam gave Atlas a curious look. Atlas shrugged and shook his head. The guys took that as the sign it was intended to be and left, but not before Atlas thanked them all tenfold for their help in the matter.
Once it was just the two of them, he made sure the doors were closed, then he sat back down next to her, pulled her hands into his and waited for her to lift her head.
“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, her voice sounding a million miles away even though she was right next to him. “It’s yours.”
23
“Pregnant … you … you’re pregnant?”
He blinked and blinked and blinked, but somehow things still seemed blurry. Finally, he had to shut his eyes, rub the heels of his palms into them for thirty seconds or so and then open them again.
She sat there quietly, worry etched deep across her face.
“I just found out yesterday,” she whispered. “I needed the night to process before I told you. I wasn’t not going to tell you. I just … I just needed a bit of time.”
He was going to be a father again. A slew of emotions swamped him, but the most predominant one of them all was joy. As hard as it was having kids, they were what kept him grounded, kept him living. If it hadn’t been for Aria, and now Cecily, he could have easily just wasted away to nothing after Samantha died. But he lived for his children. And now, now he had another child to live for. And a new woman to share that life with.