“Sure I did.” Was I that easy to read? “It’s just been a long day, and I’m thankful you’re in my life. Is that cool?”
“Absolutely.” She snuggled closer, pressing her cheek to my chest. I could have sat holding her forever, even though her messy hair tickled the underside of my chin. “I’ve been thinking, if you’re not doing anything Saturday, want to go with me to meet my mom? The PI she hired sent pictures of my daughter. Part of me wants to go see them now—to have Mom text them, but . . .” Her eyes shone, then she shook her head. “I for sure want to wait to see them together. With Mom . . . and you.”
I released the breath I’d been holding. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. No. Maybe?” Her throaty laugh wrecked me. She was playing this like it was no big deal, but I knew better. I also knew I had a long-standing date with Mitsy that weekend to fly to Arizona for some charity thing. I wasn’t sure how, but I’d get out of it, or somehow manage both. The one thing I couldn’t—wouldn’t—do was let down Carol.
Carol
Saturday morning, seated alongside Nathan on my mother’s living room couch with her yappy dogs at our feet, my throat ached from holding back tears. I wanted to reach for his hand, but couldn’t. His presence, the comfort I found in just taking him in, felt fantastical, like a mirage that the moment I looked away would vanish just like every other important man in my life.
Mom’s cinnamon candles burned, grounding me in the familiar and the fact that she was the only consistent force in my life who’d ever stayed. I loved her dearly, and maybe because of that love, I should pay closer attention to her desire for me to meet my daughter.
On the coffee table, a white legal-sized envelope rested along the Yorkie-shaped snack plate I’d given Mom for her last birthday. It was loaded with chocolate chip cookies. Nathan had eaten four—not that I was counting, just noting that if I’d tried eating anything, I would have retched.
“Nathan,” my mother said, “I made coffee. Would you like some?”
“No, ma’am. But thank you for the offer. Your cookies sure are good.” One of Mom’s dogs sat on his lap. He rubbed behind her ears until she struggled to keep her little eyes open—the pink bow gave her away. Nice to know he had a way with all the ladies.
“Tinker Bell has a crush,” Mom noted, nodding toward the dog. “Nathan, how long have you and Caroline known each other?”
“We’ve been in the same circle for, what?” He thrilled me by taking my hand. “About a year? But I finally realized how special she is at Ella and Liam’s wedding. It took me a while to get brave enough to ask her on a real date, but I’m glad I finally did.” After kissing the back of my hand, he clasped it between both of his. “Now, I’m not sure what I’d do without her.”
“Let’s hope you never find out.” Judging by her moon-eyed smile, if my mom had been made of chocolate, she’d have melted into a puddle on her hardwood floor.
I prayed Mom’s words wouldn’t jinx me—us. Even though Nathan hadn’t been done with his escort job for long, the fact that he’d made such a huge life change for me spoke volumes. He’d even returned the Bentley and swallowed his pride enough to drive my car to my mother’s.
Maybe he was the one who would forever break my curse of men leaving?
“Aren’t you dying to see the pictures?” Mom asked.
“Not really.” The mere thought of seeing this precious girl I’d signed away all rights to had my heart pounding. My every instinct was to bolt. Things were just getting good between Nathan and me. Even if the child inside the envelope turned out to be my daughter, what then? How would anything really change? I would never take her from her parents. So what was the point of any of this, other than being reminded of how much I’d lost? “Don’t you think this is like opening Pandora’s box?”
“Not at all.” Mom got four of her tiny pooches settled on a blanket beside her. The other two—both girls—sat with Nathan and me. “I think this is more like taking a positive first step toward correcting a past mistake.”
“But, Mom, you were one of the most vocal about urging me to give away my baby.” I hated that my voice cracked—that after all these years, it was still far more comfortable to look away from the issue rather than face it head-on. “I understand that you’re not getting younger—neither am I—but just because you want an instant grandchild doesn’t make this right. Even the fact that your PI snapped pictures makes me feel slimy inside. This is a child we’re talking about—not a cheating spouse. How invasive did this woman have to get?”
“Fine. If you don’t want to see your daughter, we’ll table the whole issue.”
She snatched up the envelope so fast, it startled the dogs into a yipping, guard-dog frenzy.
Considering all of them together couldn’t weigh much over ten pounds, I wasn’t too concerned.
Envelope in hand, she marched toward the kitchen.
All of the dogs—except for Tinker Bell, who still slept on Nathan’s lap—scampered after her.
“That could have gone better,” Nathan noted.
I landed an elbow jab to his ribs.
“Ouch. What was that for?”
“Not being on my side.”
“I’m totally on your side. I just think you’re reading far too much into looking at a couple of pictures. What could it hurt?”
Everything! “Just stay out of it, okay?” How could he not understand that all my life, I’d given away pieces of my heart until now, until finding him, there was hardly any left. What if I went along with my mom’s scheme to somehow bring this little girl into our lives, only to discover she didn’t want me? I’m not sure how I’d survive the pain of losing her twice. “I wish you hadn’t come.”
“But I did,” he softened his voice, “at your request. And so far, nothing’s even happened, but you’ve worked yourself into a tizzy.” His soft, sideways kiss calmed better than a double martini. “Relax. Take a few deep breaths, then go look at the pictures. The worst that can happen is you see a cute kid. The best? You might someday actually connect with your daughter.”
“You’re right . . .” I nodded, then wiped away a few stray tears. At least, he was partially right. But the true worst—the thing I secretly feared most—was that I did get to know my daughter, and she was smart and funny and thoroughly lovable and wanted nothing to do with me because in spite of all of her amazing qualities, I was the birth mother who’d given her away.
“Come on.” He set Tinker Bell on the floor, then stood, pulling me up beside him. “We’ll look together. I want to make sure this kid isn’t a Martian.” He combined a teasing wink with a heart-melting smile that made me feel that with him, all things were possible—even happy endings.
“Mom?” I approached the counter where she was chopping the baked chicken breasts she added to the dogs’ specialty dry food. “Sorry, okay? When you finish, let’s look at the pictures, then decide where we want to go from there.” I hugged her from behind.
A few minutes later we sat shoulder to shoulder at the same oak table where I’d done my homework as a little girl. The table had belonged to my grandmother, who died of a heart attack when I’d been too young to remember much about her other than that she’d always smelled of hair spray, and whenever she’d held me to her ample boobs, I’d felt safe and loved and adored. I ran my hand over the table’s smooth wood, hoping for at least a trace of her strength while my mother opened the envelope I’d tried so hard to avoid.
Nathan sat across the table. Tinker Bell lounged in the crook of his arm.
I caught his gaze. He nodded before casting me a reassuring smile, fortifying me for whatever was next to come.
“Oh . . .” Mom took a long, hard look at the first photo, before pressing it to her chest. Her eyes welled. “She looks just like you—eyes, nose and hair. Precious. Just precious.”
I took the next picture on the pile. Sure enough, my daughter looked like a miniature version of me in my school photos. She hung upside down on an eleme
ntary school jungle gym and I couldn’t decide which was cuter—her crooked ponytail or missing-tooth grin. I flipped through the remaining shots to find more of the same playground fun on a swing set and slide. After all this time, could this really be her? I swallowed the knot in my throat.
“Mom,” I asked, “how do you know she’s mine?”
“The PI I hired said so. I gave the woman five thousand in cash, your picture and the name of the hospital where you gave birth. She promised results. And look—right here is all the proof I need. The resemblance is uncanny.”
“True, but . . .” My heart sank. Could my mother have been duped? I kicked myself for not having asked the question sooner. There was so much I should have asked but didn’t, because I hadn’t wanted to be involved. But now that I’d seen this beautiful child, how could I not want to claim her as my own? “Lots of little girls have blond hair and blue eyes. What specific information did you give your PI?”
“She had plenty of leads to go on—everything I already mentioned, plus the name of the adoption agency.”
“That’s it?”
“She told me that was all she’d need. She said she had a contact inside the agency who could get her into sealed files.”
I pressed my fingertips to my forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, waving a photo at me. “Look at her. This has to be your daughter.”
“Where is she?” I riffled through the photos, then the envelope for any additional information.
“Denver. She gave me the girl’s name and address. Why? Are you going to see her in person? If you do, I want to go.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” I hadn’t meant to snap, but the situation was too much to handle at one sitting. “First things first, could you please give me your PI’s number?”
“Of course, but what are you going to ask that I haven’t?”
“Did she talk to the girl’s parents? Have they admitted they adopted her on the same day she was born? If so, would they agree to a DNA test? Would they allow me to talk to my daughter or even peripherally be in her life? I could fund a college account or give her a fairy-tale wedding.”
“Slow down, Momma Bear,” Nathan said. “Let’s tackle one thing at a time. Mrs. Moore, where is your PI’s office?”
“I don’t know. She always came here. The dogs love her.”
“Where did you find her?” I asked. “Online?”
She waved off my question. “You buy me all that technology, but I don’t like it. I hired her from an ad in the back of the Bargain Finder—you know, the circular that comes every
Wednesday. It has terrific fast-food coupons.”
I pressed my lips tight and struggled not to blow.
I wasn’t as upset with my mother as I was with myself. Why hadn’t I raised questions when Mom first broached the topic? Instead of avoiding her calls, I should have straight-up told her I wasn’t interested. Case closed. But now that I’d seen what my ten-year-old girl could look like, there was no way I’d ever let this go.
Mom left the table to rummage through her junk drawer. She found a business card that she handed to me. “Here’s the investigator’s contact info. I’ve got your daughter’s address in my sewing room. I’ll go get it.”
“How are you holding up?” Nathan asked once she was out of earshot.
“Not well. This is all . . .” I smiled and flopped my hands on my thighs.
“Yeah . . .” He leaned in for a kiss. I closed my eyes and breathed him in—his familiar taste and smell. In that moment, I knew I could handle anything as long as he was beside me. “What do you think is our next move?”
“Our?” I raised my eyebrows. “You saying we’re in this—whatever it turns out to be— together?”
“Absolutely.” He eased his fingers between mine. “One way or another, I promise we’ll find your little girl—only today, I have to be at work by four, so can we table the search until Monday?”
I groaned. “Why do you have to have such a solid work ethic? Life would be much simpler if you’d agree to be my boy toy.”
“Seriously?” Now he was raising his brows. “That’s quite a request coming from the woman who forced me to quit my last job as a male escort.”
This time, I kissed him. “Oh, I have no problem with you serving as eye candy—just as long as I’m the only one seeing you.”
Nathan
Lying to Carol made me feel dirty—especially after holding her through tears brought on by the loss of her daughter. Sure, the girl wasn’t forever gone, but technically, for all practical purposes, wasn’t giving up a child essentially voluntarily losing her? In giving her a better life, agreeing to lessen your own?
I ached for Carol, and should have cooked her dinner and served it to her in bed, or a bubble bath, or wherever else she felt the most comfortable and safe and sane.
Instead, I was still an hour outside Phoenix’s Sky Harbor International, crammed into a coach seat in my tux because I didn’t want to waste a dime that I’d need to extricate myself from Uma’s employment.
Even worse, I couldn’t help but wonder if Uma could be involved. Would she be that twisted to have posed as a PI? She didn’t need the five thousand, which meant if it had been her, the sole motivation was cruelty. Sick didn’t begin to cover how I felt about her possible involvement.
Carol believed I was stuck at work. I’d told her I’d enrolled in management training, and would lose my spot in the deliveryman lineup if I called in sick after such a short time on the job. Of course, the truth was that I was scared shitless that if I didn’t make Mitsy happy, Uma would do something crazy to Carol.
I felt trapped in a psycho movie with no easy way out.
In Phoenix, Arizona, I took a cab to the Ritz-Carlton, then called Mitsy to tell her I’d reached the hotel.
She told me her room number, and before I went up, I ducked into the lobby men’s room to splash water on my face and make sure I was lint free and my hair was in place. This pre-client ritual went against the grain of my normal man code. Sure, I wanted to look okay, but this mega-groomed version of myself staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger.
Reminding myself that this job was no longer about making a quick buck, but ensuring not only Carol’s safety, but her daughter’s—if the girl was even hers—I exchanged the restroom for the elevator. The whole ride, I focused on the hot-as-hell kiss Carol and I shared that night in Liam’s beach-house elevator.
By the time I reached Mitsy’s floor, I had to readjust my pants to walk down the hall.
“Finally.” She opened the door. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”
“Sorry.” I kissed her cheek before entering her suite. The living room was nice enough— plush carpet, requisite antique-looking furnishings with calm-toned walls and upholstery. I once would have been wowed by the place, but now, I had become jaded. “My flight was late.”
“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have flown out with me. Flying private is so much more civilized.” She nodded toward an unopened bottle of Dom chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table. “Would you please open that? You know how the popping gives me a fright.”
“Of course.” I wasn’t sure which of her running commentary she’d expected to receive answers for, so I completed the assigned task in silence, the whole time wishing I were sharing the champagne with Carol. I’d splash some into her navel and suck it out.
“Tonight’s event is huge for my foundation. My grandfather had glaucoma, which is why we still support the cause. Did you know the disease is the second leading cause of blindness behind cataracts?”
“No, I did not.” I’d pour that bubbly other places, too . . .
“I prepared note cards for you to study on the way to the party. We want you armed with the facts.”
“Of course.” I handed her a full flute, and downed my own before pouring another.
“Careful.” Her gaze narrowed. “This fundraiser may
be on the rooftop, but that doesn’t mean
I intend for it to be a bawdy affair.”
“My apologies.” I set down my glass, tired of being treated like a fucking twelve-year-old.
“Let’s go. Because of your tardiness you have yet to explain, we’re already unfashionably late.”
“I’m so sorry.” I had about ten thousand things to do more important than hanging out with you. The second I had the thought, I felt sick inside. Mitsy was a nice lady. Sure, she had her annoying moments, but overall, she paid me well for not a lot of effort, and I owed her my best. Uma was the one I had a gripe with. Her controlling way of doing business was a stone’s throw from white slavery.
“It’s okay.” She took my arm, leading me toward the door. “You can make it up to me later.” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that—or her big wink.
The event was like dozens I’d attended before. The rooftop setting made it a little more special. Maybe romantic might be the better word. I imagined Carol standing tall and elegant and ethereal alongside me. She’d easily outshine any woman in attendance.
I missed her—fiercely.
I would have killed for a half-dozen beers—better yet, a joint, but Commander Uma frowned on both.
How had I gotten here? What seemed like a lifetime ago, I would have given anything to be wearing a tux at a rooftop gala, sipping champagne with the beautiful people. The trouble was, I no more belonged with these people now than I had when I’d first come to San Francisco to be with Ella. In fact, my current situation was worse than my previous lot. At least then, I knew who I was and controlled my own fate. Now, I’d become a puppet controlled by Uma’s strings, and that fact made me sick.
I noticed Mitsy was low on champagne, so I took her near-empty flute before scampering off like a little bitch to get her a new glass.
I took the opportunity away from her to duck behind a potted palm to call Carol. I wanted to share it all. Bacon-wrapped scallops and air warm and sweet from flowers I couldn’t see and a moon so full and close I could have reached out to capture it for her.
Need (Bad Boys with Billions Book 3) Page 11