She slipped her hand inside mine, bouncing along beside me, and chattering about nothing as we made our way to Bubby’s, one of her favorite places to eat breakfast.
The restaurant had been closed for a few weeks for renovations, and this was the first time we’d visited since they’d reopened. I liked what they’d done with the place. Same brick walls covered in pictures, but they’d added rustic oak flooring and finished off with a bright paint scheme. Annie chose a booth. I grinned and followed along. I liked to indulge my daughter now and then. For me, parenthood was a balance of discipline and allowing kids to express themselves, and between Mom and me, I liked to think we’d gotten it right. Everyone who met Annie always told me what a great kid she was, which made my chest puff with pride.
We ordered breakfast—Eggs Benedict for me and blueberry pancakes for Annie—and clinked our juice glasses as had become our tradition.
“So, how’s school?” I asked.
Annie made a face. “Daddy, no school talk on the weekends.” And then she sighed. “Polly Mason pulled my hair yesterday.”
My forehead creased. “She did? Why?”
“Because Franco Ciccione likes me and not her.”
What?
Boys?
Already?
She’s only seven.
I was not ready for this.
“And do you like Franco?” I asked tentatively, holding my breath for the answer and watching her body language carefully.
She hitched her left shoulder. “He’s okay, for a boy.” She wrinkled her nose. “He smells a bit.”
Immensely relieved at her first comment, I suppressed a chuckle at her second. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
She shrugged again. “It’s true.”
What can you say to that?
Our food arrived, and I listened as Annie chattered on while stuffing her face with the pancakes. I should tell her not to speak with her mouth full, but she was so animated, and I found myself enraptured by the excitement and energy with which she spoke, the way her eyes sparkled when she was being mischievous, the habit she’d formed in the last year of pushing her hair out of her face with a little huff of annoyance.
With half a pancake remaining, she dropped her fork and rubbed her stomach. “I’m full.”
“I’m not surprised.” I set my own silverware down. Nervous energy swirled in my gut as I contemplated how to approach the conversation Annie had with Harlow last night.
“Annie, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
She instantly looked guilty in that way kids often did, their minds racing at what unwitting transgression they may have made that, now, they might find themselves reprimanded for.
“You’re not in trouble, so don’t give me that look.”
Relief swarmed her face, and she shuffled in her seat.
I inclined my head. “But now I’m wondering if I should dig a little deeper.” I accompanied my words with a broad smile so she’d know I was only teasing.
“Daddy, that’s naughty,” she said, her tone full of reproach.
I decided to plunge straight in. “I heard you talking to Harlow last night, and that’s what I wanted to speak with you about.”
“Oh.” She nibbled her lip, sensibly waiting for me to lead the conversation.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. I should have realized you’d have questions about your mom.” I reached for her tiny hand and folded it inside mine. “You can always talk to me, you know.”
She took a deep breath, and her little chest expanded. The beginnings of a lip wobble had me preparing for tears. Then she seemed to steel herself.
“I know I can, Daddy. I’m a big girl. I don’t have a mommy like the other girls in school, but I do have a Nanan and a Harlow.” A huge grin almost split her face in half.
My chest constricted. I’d never wanted this for Annie. When Sara had given birth, I’d assumed having a child would enrich our lives and, soon, we’d add more kids to the brood and live a normal family life. Then Sara decided she wanted a different life, one that wasn’t normal, one that was much more exciting than changing diapers and wiping up puke.
Yet, for me, the reward for going through the undoubtedly difficult baby stage sat right across from me. My beautiful, funny, kind, quirky, wonderful little girl who made me the proudest parent in the world.
“Do you like Harlow, then?” I asked.
“I love her,” Annie expelled, giving me an odd look as though my question was the weirdest one she’d heard from me today. “She helps me with my homework, and reads to me, and plays games. We sometimes go to the park after school and stroke the horses. I like doing that.” She tilted her head to one side. “Do you like Harlow, Daddy?”
Out of the mouths of babes.
I smiled and squeezed her hand. “I do, baby girl,” I said, realizing it was absolutely true. “I like her very much.”
And if I didn’t act fast, both Annie and I could lose that girl for good.
9
Harlow
Earlier that same morning.
I woke to a dark world, a pounding head, and a stomach full of regrets.
Straining my ears, I listened for any movement, but all seemed quiet. I folded back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, raking my hands through my hair.
Suddenly my ideal job had turned into a living nightmare—and all at my own hands.
Oliver’s harsh reprove from last night still stung. Every time I replayed it in my mind, I winced. I should have known he’d be protective of Annie, especially given both the physical absence of a mother, and the lack of evidence she even existed. Whatever had happened between a couple who, at least once, must have loved each other enough to create a baby, it had cut Oliver deep.
In Hell, I hope.
Once again, Liv’s comments, her voice dripping with venom, came back to me. At the time, I’d assumed Annie’s mother was still alive, but could I have been wrong? And if I was, that made the promise I almost gave to Annie that her mom might come home even more heinous. That would explain Oliver’s incandescent, cold rage. For all I knew, they could have decided to keep the truth about her mother’s early demise from Annie. And there I went, blundering in like a fool.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and got to my feet. I’d planned to meet Katie for lunch, and originally, I’d intended to hang around the penthouse, maybe play with Annie a little—even though it was my day off—or watch TV. But after last night, all I wanted to do was to slip out unnoticed and hope by the time I sidled home later this evening that Oliver might have forgotten about our disagreement. The last thing I wanted was to live under a cloud.
I showered, brushed my teeth and, hoping my blow-dryer didn’t wake Oliver and spoil my plans, I dried my hair then pulled it back into a high ponytail. After dressing in jeans, a sweater, and walking boots—required footwear if I was to spend the entire day on my feet pounding the streets of Manhattan—I quietly opened my bedroom door and peeked into the hallway.
All quiet on the Western Front.
I slipped down the stairs, hoping they didn’t creak. When I saw the main living space of the penthouse remained empty, I virtually ran to the elevator. Once inside, I pressed the button for the lobby level about fifteen times, as if that would make the doors close faster. As they edged together, I kept thinking Oliver might suddenly appear to stop me from leaving and give me another lecture on how to behave around his daughter.
He didn’t, thankfully.
My stomach rumbled with hunger. I cut through Central Park, exiting opposite the Plaza. I jogged across the street, flipping off some asshole cab driver who honked his horn when he was nowhere fucking near me.
A normal Saturday morning in Manhattan.
Twenty-five minutes later, I arrived at one of my favorite coffee houses that, given the early hour, was still virtually empty. I took a seat in the window, ordered a coffee, a garden omelet, and a side of multi grain toast, but when the food arrived, I couldn�
��t stomach it. Every mouthful tasted like regret. I downed three cups of strong java, though, which at least gave me an energy boost.
Walking the streets while waiting for one o’clock to arrive—the time I’d arranged to meet Katie—gave me an insight into how the homeless of this city must feel. I couldn’t imagine having nowhere to be, nowhere to go to escape the cruel and biting snow of winter, the vicious and unbearable heat of summer. I made sure to drop a few dollars into the cup of a woman huddled in a threadbare blanket, sitting in a doorway that offered little protection from the chilly fall breeze. She smiled at me gratefully and said thank you.
Eventually, the time came to head to the restaurant. I strode out, grateful to have a destination, a purpose, somewhere to aim for. Even so, I arrived ten minutes early and had to hang around waiting for our table. They seated me a couple of minutes before my reservation time, but no sooner had I parked my butt than I spotted Katie giving her jacket to the greeter. I waved, and she waved back, then made her way over.
“Hey, babes,” she said, enveloping me in a warm hug.
“You look amazing,” I said. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“If three weeks counts as forever, then that’s exactly what it’s been.”
Three weeks since I’d met Oliver in McCory’s. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel my lips grazing his soft ones.
We ordered drinks—Coke for Katie and a glass of much-needed wine for me—and I listened as she told me about this patient she’d gotten close to who’d died just yesterday. Her eyes filled with tears as she recounted how they’d clung to her hand, then taken their last breath with no family around to comfort them.
“Anyway,” she said, breezily waving her hand as if she wanted to make out it was no big deal, or maybe just change the subject to stem the pain. “How’s the job? I want to hear everything.”
My face must have given me away because she frowned, but before I could start to spill the whole sorry tale, our server came to take our order. When she retreated, I locked my gaze on Katie, nibbling my lip.
“The job is great, or rather it was… until last night.”
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, giving me her full attention. “Go on.”
I recounted every detail, from Annie asking me to read to her, to her fateful question that led to Oliver overhearing me seemingly gossiping about Annie’s absent mother, and finally to the scolding he’d laid on me in his office. Katie listened without interruption save for the odd “Hmm”. When I finished, I picked up my wineglass and took a huge slug.
“And what did he say this morning?” Katie asked.
I shrugged. “No idea. I left before he or Annie had risen.”
Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “So what have you been doing all morning?”
“Walking. Thinking. Wondering whether I’ve still got a job, and a home, to return to. Whether I’ll find myself out on the streets by nightfall.”
Katie snorted. “He’d be crazy to let you go.” She pointed her finger in my direction. “And if he tries, tell him I’ll kick his ass.”
“He’s six feet two.”
“So?” She made a jabbing motion with her fist.
We laughed, and it felt good. I’d needed a catch-up with Katie to put things into perspective.
“If I were you, I’d go back to his place, sit him down, and calmly have a conversation about what happened. State your case, that all you did, in all innocence, was answer a question from his daughter. How were you to know you’d put your foot in it? He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about his domestic situation. If he had, all this could have been avoided. And after you’ve done that, demand the apology you are most certainly owed.”
I nibbled the inside of my cheek. “You think I should? I did fuck up after all.”
“Yes, I do,” Katie insisted. “He has a right to feel annoyed, but to threaten you with the loss of your job was a step too far. And if he’s too big of a prick to apologize.” She hitched a shoulder. “At least you’ll know you did the adult thing. But I do think you should have the conversation. The last thing you want is to spend the rest of your time there under a disagreeable cloud.”
She had a point, a very valid one. Still, the thought of facing Oliver again flipped my stomach.
“Okay. I will.”
“Good,” Katie said, leaning back to allow the server to set down her plate of food. “Now let’s eat. I’m starved.”
By the time we’d paid our check and risen from the table to leave, I felt a lot better about the entire Oliver situation. Katie had helped me put what happened into perspective, and I vowed to speak with Oliver as soon as Annie went to bed this evening. Wiser to try to clear the air than live in a difficult atmosphere.
I hugged Katie and watched her dash down the street toward the subway, heading to another tough shift at the hospital. I struggled to understand how she maintained a sunny disposition when her days were filled with other people’s sadness. She’d been born a nurse, though. To Katie, it wasn’t a job, it was a vocation. An undeniable pull to care for others. I couldn’t wish for a better friend.
The elevator up to Oliver’s penthouse traveled faster than I would have liked, one of those strange time events where when you’re looking forward to something, every second feels like an hour, but when you’re dreading the upcoming experience, that pesky clock speeds up, taunting you.
The metal doors glided open, and I tentatively stepped forward, an invisible string pulling me back, urging me to give it a little more time. I peered into the living space.
No sign of either Oliver or Annie.
They must be out somewhere. I sighed. What did I do now? Rather than hang around waiting for the ax to fall—aka Oliver returning home—I remembered Liv telling me that the building had a gym that residents could use. Since taking this job, I’d allowed my exercise regime to slip, too busy trying to fit in with a new family and make a good impression.
Yeah, I’m rocking that goal.
I ran upstairs to pack a gym bag, and, on a whim, I threw in a bathing suit. A hard workout followed by a swim and maybe a sauna might be just the thing I needed to take my mind off the impending conversation.
Enjoying myself so much lazing about in the steam room, I didn’t realize the passage of time, and before I knew it, two hours had gone by. I showered, dressed, and caught the elevator back up to the penthouse.
Distant sounds from the TV reached me as I entered the foyer. Steeling myself, I padded inside, gym bag flung over my shoulder. Oliver and Annie were watching the big screen in the living room, their dark heads pressed together. My heart did a weird flip. I might not like Oliver very much right now, but damn, as I’d said before, the man was a great father. The men of the world could learn a lot about parenting from this guy.
I walked inside. Neither of them acknowledged my presence. Hmm, maybe I’d be able to sneak on by without either of them see—
“Harlow!”
As if she had a sixth sense, Annie leaped from the couch and ran across the room, her arms outstretched. I dropped my bag and knelt to hug her.
“Hey, sweet pea. Good day?”
“The best. Where have you been?” she asked with a pout. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Annie.” Oliver’s smooth, deep voice reached me, a hint of warning to his tone. “Remember, I told you Harlow doesn’t work weekends. She can come and go as she pleases.”
I straightened, my gaze meeting his across the room. I went for a half smile. He answered in kind.
“Would you like to join us?” he asked. “I’m sure Annie would like that.”
“I would,” Annie said, her arms firmly wrapped around my waist.
I briefly flicked out my tongue to dampen my lips, and I swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” I said politely. “But I have some personal things to catch up on.”
I inwardly cringed at how formal I sounded.
“Aww,” Annie moaned. “Just five, no ten, minutes
.”
I smiled at her attempt at negotiation and ruffled the top of her head. “How about tomorrow,” I said, feeling cornered into making a promise. Not that I minded—as long as I didn’t have to spend time with Oliver, too. No doubt he felt entirely the same.
“O-Kay,” she pouted.
With a final glance at Oliver who was standing in front of the TV scratching his cheek, his brows pulled into the hint of a frown, I took off upstairs. The second I entered what had become my sanctuary, my stomach unknotted itself, and the tingling in my limbs abated.
Tomorrow. I’ll have that talk with him tomorrow.
10
Oliver
I watched Harlow spin on her heel and dash off, her rapid footsteps as she went upstairs telling me she wasn’t taking them leisurely. Dammit. I’d hoped she’d hang around until after I’d put Annie to bed, and then I’d be able to talk to her in peace. Trying to have an adult conversation—particularly one where I intended to grovel—with a seven-year-old around was nigh on impossible.
I half considered going after her, but to chase her to her room right this second bordered too much on stalking for me to risk it, especially when she’d said she had things to do. I’d leave it a while and then go and see her. The passage of time would make it appear less stalker-ish—I hoped.
“Is Harlow all right?” Annie asked with the razor-sharp insightfulness that kids naturally possessed. Only as they grew into adults did society seem determined to knock it out of them, along with a carefree attitude to life, a lack of fear, and an ability to love unconditionally.
I beckoned to her to rejoin me on the couch. “She’s fine, munchkin. I’m sure we’ll see her later.”
I wasn’t sure of that—at all—but there seemed little to gain in sharing my concerns with Annie.
As she snuggled back into my side, my watch vibrated. I tapped the screen.
Buzz me up.
I groaned. Ryker. There could only be one reason for him to stop by on a weekend, and that was to discuss work. I had hoped that Ryker would take a step back from his twenty-four seven work ethic after finally growing a pair of balls and getting it on with Athena, the woman he’d been in love with since childhood, but no. Not even she seemed able to curtail his constant drive for success.
Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2) Page 6