by Zuri Day
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“What, move to Breedlove?”
“No, spend unnecessary money. I know you don’t want to live with me, but there are guest homes available on the estate.”
“I appreciate that, Nick, but that would be too close for my comfort. I care about you,” she continued, voicing a truth she hadn’t planned to share. “Not just as Trey’s father, but as someone for whom I have a deep attraction. But you’ve made it clear that there’s no chance for a real relationship. So I need to put myself in the position to attract the love I want. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever set eyes on, but your family estate is not that place.”
“I can understand that.”
A major declaration and that’s all he could say? Sam wasn’t sure he understood at all. In fact, she’d place a CANN casino bet that he hadn’t a clue she’d fallen in love with him.
“What are you doing later? Perhaps we can get together over dinner and discuss how to do what’s in Trey’s best interest from here on out.”
“I can do that.”
“What about seven? I’ll book one of the private rooms and—”
“I’d rather we meet in a neutral location.”
“Fair enough,” Nick replied without hesitation. “You choose the spot.”
“I’ll text it.”
“See you then.”
After making arrangements to drop off Trey at Danielle’s house, she texted Nick the address to her favorite Indian restaurant, walked into her closet and began the search for the perfect negotiation-wear. There was no mistaking the mission. This would be a negotiation. Sam needed to convince Nick to withdraw the papers requesting primary custody of Trey. She’d also like to increase the amount of time Trey and Nick had together; to work out something more regular than every other weekend and “whenever he was available or felt like it” they’d established just after Nick learned he was a dad. She wanted them to come to a place where if not being friends, they could at least be friendly. Sam didn’t want Trey to grow up with them fighting, with him in the middle feeling that he had to choose. Sam wanted a lot.
She aimed to dress for success in this meeting with Nick. It was an interview of sorts, the most important one to date in her life. Jeans were out, as was a casual maxi or anything too sexy. Nick would perceive that as a ploy for favor or worse, a mixed signal of what she wanted. Her bed became littered with unacceptable choices. Her hand finally touched the perfect item—a grape-colored knee-length number that complemented her curves without squeezing too tightly. She pulled her locs into a loose topknot and left a few tendrils to hang around her face and neck. Swarovski crystal earrings and necklace were her only jewelry pieces. They matched the blinged-out slingbacks she chose to finish off the look. Makeup was minimal but the grape-colored matte MAC made her lips pop. A spritz of cologne and she was ready for her close-up.
There was little traffic. Sam arrived at the restaurant with ten minutes to spare. She parked, went inside and sat at the bar. Maybe a glass of chilled chardonnay would help calm her nerves.
A young bartender with a shock of red hair ambled over, slowly wiping the bar as he neared. “What can I get for you, pretty lady?”
“A glass of white wine, please.”
The bartender rattled off a list of options. Sam settled on one and ordered the drink. Seconds later the door to the establishment opened again and all Sam could think was that a god had strolled in. Nick, looking incredible. Literally, good enough to eat. He wore black. Black suit, black shirt beneath it, black shoes. His face was clean-shaven, his hair newly cut. A diamond stud sparkled in one ear. Sam didn’t even bemoan her body’s reaction. The way her nipples pebbled and her inner walls clenched. For a woman not to react to a brother that fine she’d have to be blind. Or dead.
He approached her with a leisurely stroll and a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Good evening.”
Sam gave a cool nod warmed by a soft smile. “Nick. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” She felt him relax. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” He looked better than nice, greater than amazing and finer than wine. Sam kept that opinion to herself.
The waiter returned. “Your chardonnay, ma’am.” He looked at Nick. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“I’ll order from the table.” Then to Sam. “Shall we?”
The server led them to a corner booth of a spacious dining room. The stark linen, dark carpet and dim lighting made for a romantic ambiance. The smell of Nick’s cologne that wafted past Sam’s nose as she walked beside him made her work to remember that this was basically a business meeting. Definitely not a date. She wished it were. After they’d ordered and the server had gone, Sam spoke up.
“I’d like to start this conversation off with an apology. I can’t remember ever being as angry as I was that day in your office but it doesn’t excuse my behavior. I should not have slapped you. I’m sorry.”
“I think both of us could have said or done things differently. I accept your apology and offer mine as well. There has never been any doubt in my mind that Trey comes first in your life. For me to suggest otherwise may have warranted a slap. And for the record, woman, you pack a mean palm.”
“I’ve never hit anyone in my life. Losing my temper like that was not cool. The suggestion that I would put work before Trey cut deeply. But hearing that caused me to take a step back as well. It made me become unflinchingly honest with myself and the real reasons behind my decision to move back to LA.”
“Something besides it being a bigger, better market with more potential for work?” Nick reached for his water glass.
“Yes.” Sam’s chin lifted a bit as she said, “I was relocating to get away from you.”
Nick almost spewed out his drink. “Whoa!”
“Too honest for you?” Sam shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. I figure being as honest as possible is the only way to move forward, the only way we can develop an authentic relationship where we get along. Again, for Trey’s sake.”
“How was I responsible for you wanting to move?”
Sam gave him a look. “You have no idea?”
Were men really that stupid?
“You want to get married but... I’m not ready for that.”
“I know. That’s the problem. It’s difficult for me to be around you and not...want to be with you. Yet it’s hurtful to be with you intimately and know that’s all it is.”
“That’s all it was the night we met. We were practically strangers.”
“Which is why it was easy. My heart wasn’t involved.”
Nick eased back against the booth, sipped his water. No response. Sam figured it was just as well. Since he wanted to continue to sow his opulent oats, what was there to say? She decided it was time to stop talking about the “we” that wasn’t and focus on why they were there.
“About Trey...”
He leaned forward, steepled his hands, engaged again. “Yes.”
“I’d like you to withdraw your case for primary custody.”
“Done.”
Sam didn’t try to hide her surprise. “Really? That simply? What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I’ll no longer seek primary custody. However...”
“Ah, here we go.”
“Wait. Hear me out. I’m not a fan of the judicial system involving themselves in family matters unless absolutely necessary. We’re intelligent people who both love Trey and want the best for him. I think we should be able to work out a mutually agreeable joint custody arrangement, one that will be drawn up by my attorney—”
“So much for no judicial involvement.”
“This is legal involvement, an officially written position on what we both decide is best for Trey. It holds us accountable and in the case of another major disagreement would prevent either party f
rom doing something crazy.”
“Oh, so you’re calling me crazy?” The twinkle in Sam’s eye let Nick know she was teasing. The atmosphere lightened, a little.
“Not at all, though you did marry a prince you barely knew and move to the other side of the world. It’s not a stretch to believe you could change your identity and appearance and go on the run with my kid.”
Sam put a finger to her chin. “Hmm. Ideas.”
“Woman, don’t you dare.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“There’s not a place on earth you could hide with Trey. I can’t imagine him not being in my life.”
“Me either. Drawing up a legal document is reasonable, I guess. That way neither could change our mind and go off on a tangent.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“I want my name on Trey’s birth certificate.”
“Done, and we can change his last name.”
“Really? That simply?”
“Stop mocking me.”
“Hard to do. You’re so pretty with a chagrined face.”
“A chagrined face? Is that supposed to be a compliment? You’d better be glad your looks get you women because your flirt game needs work!”
Dinner was served. Nick and Sam fell back into the easy camaraderie that marked their being together when not fighting like cats and dogs. Over the next ninety minutes they worked out a schedule that suited them both. Because he was often busy weekdays, Sam agreed for Nick to have Trey every weekend, with wiggle room for special events or celebrations when Sam would want Trey with her. During the week, with advance notice, he could stop by and visit Trey, or take him out for dinner or to the estate. Nick understood how important it was for Trey to bond with Sam’s father, and would give up a weekend or two if Sam was scheduled to be in LA. They discussed a few more particulars such as schooling, doctor appointments and male bonding during haircuts.
“One last thing.”
Sam’s fork stopped in midair. “You said that about the birth certificate.”
“Okay, this is the last of the last thing.” He paused to finish his bite. “I want you to move to Breedlove.”
“If things were different it would be a dream come true. The place is like paradise. But we’ve already discussed this, Nick. I don’t want to live on the estate.”
“I know. You’ve made that painfully clear. So I called up a buddy of mine and asked about properties around town. Turns out there’s a three-bed, two-bath place near the town center that just became available. It’s small, less than two thousand square feet, and is a bit unfinished. I told him you were a designer and not to worry about that. It might be better that there’s work to be done. You can put your own stamp on it.”
“What’s the asking price?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m buying it for Trey. I’m doing what I wasn’t able to for the first four years of his life—be financially responsible. Take care of him.”
It was a position Sam couldn’t argue.
“So how does that work? The house would be in his name?”
“He’s not old enough to own it legally until he’s eighteen. I’ve established a trust for him. If you both like it and want to move, the home will be bought in his name through the trust.”
“Good to know I get some say in it,” Sam teased.
“Of course. He sent me a picture of the outside. Would you like to see it?”
“Sure.”
Nick tapped his screen, scrolled a bit and then handed his phone to Sam. The home was nothing like the simple abode she imagined. On the outside at least it was stunning, a contemporary Craftsman, with what looked to be sweeping city and mountain views, and large windows across two-story ceilings that she imagined let in lots of natural light.
“If you’d like I can give you his number. You two could take it from there, let me know what you think.”
Sam nodded. “Okay. This doesn’t mean that for sure I’ll move there but it’s worth checking out.”
Dinner ended. Nick and Sam went their separate ways. Her mind reeled with the implications of Nick buying the home where she and Trey would reside. She didn’t know how she felt about that but damn if it didn’t feel good hanging out with him again.
Twenty-Two
Nick bopped up the stairs and tapped a tune on his twin’s doorbell before opening the door and walking inside.
“Yo, No!”
He continued past the impressive foyer and down the hall in Noah’s new home. “Noah!”
Noah’s expecting wife Damaris rounded the corner. “Wow, you’re up early.”
“A lot to do. Where’s Noah?”
“Swimming.”
Since facing health challenges the year before, Noah had taken to daily swims to keep his body toned and his back muscles limber. He and Damaris had built a stunning home near the estate’s mountain range and included an indoor pool with a retracting roof for an outdoor feel in the summer months. It was a stunning construction, a clever mix of the English Tudor style popular in Damaris’s home state of Utah and the clean, simplistic yet ultramodern look common in the Scandinavian country of Denmark, where Noah and Damaris traveled several times a year.
Nick bent his face to Damaris’s stomach. “Hello, nephew!” He held the greeting as an echo.
Damaris laughed. “You mean niece.”
“You’ll have a son, trust me. Ask my mom,” Nick threw over his shoulder as he proceeded toward the home’s north wing that along with the pool contained a full-size exercise room, sauna and game room. “It’s the Breedlove way.”
He reached the pool. It was empty. “Twin!”
Noah came out of the shower, wiping off with a fluffy white towel. “It must have worked.” He pulled on a pair of long shorts.
“What?”
Noah’s lips eased into a smile. “Yeah, it worked. Sam’s moving into the house.”
“I’m pretty sure of it. Larry called last night. She made an appointment for a walk-through first thing today.”
“I think you’re on the hook, twin.”
Nick turned to Noah. “What do you mean?”
“You know what. I think Sam has caught a big fish. You look like a man in love.”
“I’m a father who wants a secure life for his son.”
“And the son’s mother. Don’t even try to lie. That smile is too big for one little boy, even one with your DNA.”
Nick didn’t answer. The twin thing. When one of their hearts beat the other could feel it. No doubt Noah could feel the seeds of love for Sam that had been steadily growing in Nick’s heart since before he even realized.
Noah began walking toward the main part of the house. Nick fell into step beside him.
“You’re feeling pretty good about yourself, aren’t you? By the way, you’re welcome.”
Nick gave Noah a playful punch. “I’ll give credit where it’s due. Sam would have never accepted a home I purchased for her outright.
“Going from the Trey angle worked perfectly. What mother would deny their son a beautiful place to live?”
“Not a smart one.”
“Sam’s very smart.” Nick winked.
“Beautiful, too.”
“Man, don’t remind me. She showed up last night with a dress that hugged her body the way I wanted to do. Locs caressing her neck. Skin showing, eyes glowing. Damn!”
They reached the kitchen. Damaris had prepared a smoothie and handed it to Noah.
“Thank you, baby.” Noah gave his wife a quick kiss.
“You want one, Nick?”
“No, I’m good.”
“We’ll be in the office, baby.”
“Remember, love, the doula comes at ten. Will you join us?”
“Yes, Dee. I’ll be there to learn all I need t
o know about helping bring my son into the world.”
Damaris chuckled as she shook her head. “You two.”
The men continued down the hall into Noah’s office.
“You not going to work today?”
Noah shook his head. “Working from home, bro. That’s the good thing about Utah being virtual. I can monitor everything from the central control center.”
Noah referred to a layout in the next room that gave him the ability to see everything happening in CANN’s Mountain Valley, Utah location, where Noah had done the impossible and brought gambling to the state.
“All right then, man. I’d better let you get to it.” Nick walked over and gave his twin a shoulder bump and fist tap.
“You heading to the office, or over to your lady’s new home in Breedlove?”
“She’s not my lady.”
“Not yet, but from the look in your eye when you talk about her...she will be.”
Nick didn’t answer his brother, but long after he’d left the house, slid into his fancy ride and headed toward the Strip, what Noah said stayed on his mind. Did he want Sam to be his lady under the terms she presented? Truth of the matter was he hadn’t been with another woman since he and Sam reconnected. But he was only twenty-seven. Was he ready to commit to being a one-woman man for the rest of his life?
Once in the office his mind was quickly pulled elsewhere. A private island in the Seychelles that Christian and Nick had their eyes on for over a year had just come on the market. It was one of less than half a dozen large enough to hold the type of opulent casino hotel they wanted to construct, one that included individual tiki-type houses that would sit directly over the water. Both knew they had to act fast to secure the deal.
Anita buzzed him. “Boss, Silver State Bank is on line one.”
“Thanks, Anita.” Nick tapped the line. “Breedlove.”
“Nick, good morning. It’s Harold. How are you doing?”
“Any day is good that starts out with a call from the bank president.”
The two men conversed about the hundreds of millions needed for the Seychelles project, and how they would go about positioning funds that would be used by a variety of parties across continents. They scheduled a meeting among all necessary players for later that week. Afterward, the chat turned more social. Updates on family, plans to play golf. Nick’s phone pinged with a text from Larry. He wrapped up the call.