Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “I get it, they’re perfect. Yada yada.”

  “Not perfect,” he says, shaking his head. “Your mom is stubborn like you, and your dad doesn’t like to show his emotions. But they’re happy, and that is as much of a fairy-tale ending as anyone can ask for.”

  I look at Leon out of the corner of my eye, wondering what he thinks of me. I was under the impression he’d just been tolerating my parents, but now I can see that he’s been watching them, studying them. How much more has he been studying me?

  Leon pulls back another overhanging branch, and I don’t realize where we are until I hear him gasp.

  “Where are we?” he asks, standing on the small ledge overlooking the riverbank.

  “My favorite place,” I say, grabbing his elbow and pulling him along.

  I called it “the blackberry patch” growing up. Not exactly a creative name, but an apt one. It’s a small area of land between the woods on the edge of my parents’ property and the beginning of the river. Surrounded on all sides by trees, which make it feel like an enchanted garden meant only for me, it is stuffed full of blackberry bushes. I can pick blackberries until my fingers bleed, and still, there are thousands and thousands more, an endless supply.

  Growing up in the city means Leon is mesmerized by food from the produce section growing wild in nature. He keeps remarking how crazy it is to see blackberries on a bush, and I can’t help but laugh every time. Seeing my secret place through his eyes feels like I stumbled upon it again for the first time. I also can’t help but feel comfortable in this space with him.

  My mom mentioned last night that perhaps we could all drive to the next town over and do some shopping and pick up lunch, but I told her Leon and I already had plans. We didn’t yet, but I wanted to.

  As much as I’m trying to guard my heart and go into this situation with my eyes wide open, there is a nearly magnetic pull between Leon and me. I feel drawn to him. Part of me thinks it might be the baby, doing its best to make sure I end up with its dad. But another part of me knows it is because Leon and I have insane chemistry. It was electric the night we first met, and it is just as powerful now.

  When our baskets are full, we find a shady spot near the edge of the woods, and Leon pulls a blanket and two paper bags out of his backpack. We settle in on the blanket, and he hands me my paper bag, which is filled with a homegrown tomato and mozzarella sandwich, kettle-cooked chips and a cookie. I look at Leon, my eyes wide, and he shakes his head.

  “I think your mom must have somehow known about my chaos in the kitchen this morning for breakfast because when she saw me trying to pack us lunches, she pushed me aside and took control. This is all her.”

  “Figures,” I say laughing.

  “It really does,” he says, nudging me in the ribs. “It reminded me of the way another Miller woman barged in and took control in the kitchen.”

  “Someone had to take control. That kitchen was a disaster.”

  He laughs, the dimple in his right cheek making an appearance. “I bet I would have figured it all out in the end.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, voice thick with sarcasm.

  We eat our lunch and handfuls of blackberries until our tongues are stained deep purple and we have to wipe our hands on the damp grass to clean them.

  “This place is a dream,” Leon says, cupping his hands behind his neck and laying back in the grass. “You must have had a great childhood here.”

  “I did,” I say, remembering summer afternoons spent running through the rows of the orchards, picking apples with my dad, making pies with my mom, and then taking a fresh pie to Aunt Angie at the bank. It felt like I had the run of Emmitsburg. “I love living in the city, but it’s a little sad our baby won’t have this kind of childhood.”

  Leon is quiet for a minute, and then he shakes his head. “Wow. That is crazy. Our child. I haven’t said it out loud very much.”

  “Right?” I roll a corner of the blanket up and lay my head on it. “I can’t believe I will have a baby in a little over seven months.”

  I stare up at the bright blue sky—the same shade as Leon’s eyes—and wonder if that is why I’ve always felt so comfortable around him. Even when I didn’t understand why, my subconscious knew that he is a little slice of home. When I look in his eyes, I see my favorite spot on a cloudless day.

  He rolls over onto his side. “Should we talk about that?”

  “About what?” I ask, staring up at the sky.

  If I look at him, I’m afraid of what I’ll feel. What I’ll want to do. We are alone on the edge of a wooded area, laying on a blanket after a picnic lunch. We are essentially on a date, and I’m not ready.

  “Kids. Life.” He waves his hand in a loop-de-loop motion. “Philosophy.”

  I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees. “Okay. You start.”

  “Public school or private school?” Leon asks.

  I think about it for a moment. “I never had the option for private school growing up, so I didn’t even think about that, but I think public school is important. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong—”

  “Always,” Leon teases, winking at me.

  “But private school doesn’t seem to mirror real life. Everyone there comes from similar backgrounds and socioeconomic status, and I want our child to be exposed to all kinds of people. But, of course, I’m open to discussing it. I’m sure you have fond memories of the private school you attended and—”

  “I didn’t attend private school,” he says.

  I look at him, forehead wrinkled. “You didn’t?”

  He shakes his head.

  “But you were rich.”

  He laughs. “Not all rich people go to private school. Plus, I wasn’t actually rich growing up.”

  “Oh, right. You’re a rags-to-riches story.”

  “Not quite that.” He lays back down in the grass. “It was just my mom and me my whole childhood. My dad ran off before I was born, so she did her best. We didn’t have a lot, but we had enough. I wasn’t in rags.”

  I stare at Leon like he has just morphed into another person. Like he shape-shifted in front of my eyes. Everything is clicking into place. In the Manhattan finance industry, I am surrounded by people who grew up around wealth. Many of them are nice people, but they seem to undervalue their employees and overvalue themselves. Even though they all have different personalities and strengths and weaknesses, they all seem to be motivated by one thing: money.

  Leon always seemed different. His favorite restaurant is a small Italian place near his apartment, he takes the train to work, and he shares an office with several of his company’s executives rather than have his own. Suddenly, he makes more sense to me.

  “So, how did you manage to become the CEO of FutureTrust?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t want to be rude, but that is a major accomplishment for a kid from your background.”

  “You make me sound like an orphan on the streets.” He laughs, the smile making him look younger somehow. “A lot of people think I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and overcame my circumstances, and in many ways I did. But that’s not the full story. My dad was out of the picture my whole life, but his dad—my grandpa—was an accountant, and I reached out to him towards the end of high school when I was looking for my dad. My grandpa hadn’t seen my dad in ten years at that point, so he couldn’t help, but we became really close in the time we had together. When he died, he named me in his will along with his other grandkids, and I followed his advice and took the money straight to a financial advisor. A few shrewd investments later, I was a whole lot wealthier, and a lot of doors opened up for me.”

  “What about your mom?” I ask.

  He looks down, his lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. “She got sick a few years ago. I got all the best doctors, but there was nothing they could do.”

  My heart aches for him. I want to throw myself on top of him and protect him, as if that would help anything. Instead, I reach out and brush a finger along his arm.


  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” he says softly. Then, he takes a deep breath, and I can see him mentally filing the sadness away. “Okay, back to parenting.”

  We agree on all of the important things. No hipster baby names, the baby will have a nanny until six months and then go to daycare, and I will breastfeed as long as possible, preferably for the first year. It all seems easy, and I feel like the entire situation could work out even better than I hoped. Except, at no point do we even broach the subject of custody. Leon came to Emmitsburg to confess his feelings for me, which implies he wants to be a couple, but with the baby bombshell, we haven’t discussed it again. And I’m not ready, too. I have no idea what I want.

  I mean, yes, of course I want my child to be raised by two loving parents, and if those parents could live under the same roof, that would be great. But plenty of children thrive under co-parenting. Leon and I could have a shared custody schedule and keep things civil. It could work really well, and honestly, it might be the best option. I’m already having a baby, so starting a relationship at the same time feels overwhelming. The sensible thing to do might be to approach the situation as co-parents and keeping romance out of the mix for now. Possibly, forever.

  Leon didn’t try anything romantic at our picnic or on the hike home, and even though I’d already made up my mind to keep him at arm’s length, I couldn’t ignore the part of me that was disappointed. That night, laying in my bedroom upstairs, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Leon was sleeping on the couch just below me. That all I would have to do is creep down the stairs, and we could be together. Of course, my parents would hear the floorboards on the upstairs landing creak before I even made it to the stairs. Besides, Leon and I weren’t going to start a romance. It wasn’t in the cards. Not with the baby on the way.

  Be sensible, Grace.

  After a rough night of sleep, I’m sitting on the porch with my mom, watching Leon and my dad fix the roof of a shed. My mom has been hounding my dad to fix it for three weeks, and when she mentioned it over breakfast, Leon offered to take a look. Dad, still not on board with Leon being in our house and desperate to keep my mother’s opinion of him from growing any more, insisted he would oversee the project. So it is, we are watching my dad stand on the ground and bark orders at a shirtless Leon.

  “Not a bad view,” Mom says, sipping her iced tea.

  “Mom!” I hiss.

  “I was talking about your dad,” she says, smiling so I know she’s only half telling the truth. “Leon doesn’t look too shabby himself. They must have good gyms in New York City.”

  I chuckle under my breath and shake my head. “You are shameless.”

  “Hey, when you get to be my age, you find that you have to enjoy every minute of every day.”

  “You say that like you’re ninety,” I argue. “You’re barely fifty.”

  She winces. “Don’t remind me.”

  My dad calls up for Leon to straighten a board, and Leon just smiles and gives him a thumbs-up. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he is trying to earn my dad’s respect. Dad has made it no secret he isn’t fond of Leon, and I appreciate that Leon cares enough to try and change that. Because I want my dad to like him.

  “Your dad just worries about you,” Mom says.

  “Are you a mind reader?” I ask. “I was just thinking about him.”

  “I know you were,” she says, reaching over to place her hand on top of mine. “He wants what’s best for you, and he’s worried Leon isn’t going to take care of you.”

  “Leon promised he’ll be there for the baby. He’s excited.”

  She nods. “Yeah, but that isn’t the same as taking care of you.”

  “I can’t think about me right now.” I lay a hand on my stomach. I know it’s too early to be showing yet, but I swear I can feel my bump protruding. “I have to take care of the baby.”

  “You can’t take care of the baby without taking care of yourself,” she counters. She turns to me, voice low. “Listen, Gracie. Lord knows I can’t tell you what to do, but can I give you some advice?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No, so be quiet and listen.” She winks at me. “You deserve a good man who loves and cherishes you the way your father loves and cherishes me. We both love you so much, honey, but when you left the house, it was just the two of us. And it will be the same for you. I know that seems like a long time away now, but when your kiddo is out of the house and off in the world, you’ll need someone to be there for you, so you can’t wait until later to take care of yourself.”

  I don’t know why I’m tearing up, but I am. I swipe at my eyes and shrug. “I’m not sure I know how to take care of myself. I mean, look at me. I just broke up a fake engagement, found out I’m pregnant, and now I’m living with my parents. I mean, I’m a mess.”

  My mom nods in agreement.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say, trying not to laugh.

  “There’s no sense denying it,” she says. “But I don’t think things are as bad for you as you think. After all, a handsome, wealthy, kind-hearted man showed up the day after you came here and has been sleeping on your parents’ couch for four nights. Clearly, he’s crazy about you.”

  “You think so?” I whisper, not realizing how much I needed someone else to confirm what I suspected.

  “I’m positive, Gracie girl. That boy is head over heels for you, and if you’d open your eyes, you’d realize you are in love with him, too.”

  I shake my head immediately. “Love is a big word. I barely know him.”

  She smiles as my dad turns around and looks at her, shaking his head like he just doesn’t know what to do with Leon.

  “Love is a big word, but it is also a simple concept,” she says. “You know it when you feel it, and after enough years, you’ll be able to recognize it. Just wait, baby girl. You’ll see.”

  Chapter 18

  Leon

  “I haven’t been here in almost ten years,” Grace says, grabbing a golf magazine off the coffee table in the waiting room. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”

  The doctor’s office is housed in an old farmhouse—complete with a dilapidated barn in the back—that has been retrofitted with a receptionist’s desk and waiting room in the living room and a series of exam rooms down a single hallway. The kitchen is visible from the waiting room, through a swinging door at the back of the house and appears to still be a kitchen—probably a lounge of some kind.

  “Do they have the equipment we need to satisfy your mom that everything is all right with the baby?” I ask.

  “We’re in a small town, not the past,” Grace whispers. “They have everything we need.”

  Grace’s mom wanted to go to the appointment with her, but Grace insisted it should just be the two of us. I had no intention of getting on her parents’ bad sides, so I didn’t say anything, but my heart noticeably swelled when Grace said she wanted me with her.

  I’ve been staying at her parents’ house for four nights now, and I like them. A lot. It is easy to see where Grace got so many of her good qualities. Even though her dad clearly accepts me on probationary terms only, he is a softie, especially where it concerns Grace and Sheila. With enough time, I know he’ll come to like me. I only hope we have that time.

  Grace and I haven’t discussed our relationship at all. I haven’t wanted to push the issue. Not with Grace being pregnant. She has enough to worry about without me throwing yet another big decision at her. However, that hasn’t stopped me from imagining our future together. I can see us living together in my penthouse, the guest bedroom transformed into a nursery. It would be a beautiful life, and I pray it is possible.

  A curly-haired nurse calls Grace’s name and then shows us down the long hallway and into a small room. The window has been glazed with something to fog the glass and offer privacy, but the light makes it seem a lot cheerier than any other doctor’s office I’ve ever been in. The nurse tells Grace to undress and put on a robe, an
d then leaves. I wait in the hallway until Grace knocks on the door, letting me know she is ready.

  Something about seeing her in the pale blue gown makes it all real. She is pregnant with my child. I only have a second to absorb it before someone knocks on the door again and the doctor steps into the room. He is a tall, gray-haired man with a wide smile and warm brown eyes.

  “Grace,” he says, wrapping her hand in both of hers. “It’s wonderful to see you again. I hear congratulations are in order?”

  “Thank you! And so good to see you too,” she says. Then, she points to me. “Dr. Faber, this is Leon.”

  “The father?” Dr. Faber says, giving me a warm handshake, as well. Then, he claps his hands together as if he is breaking up a huddle. “Okay. No sense wasting time. Let’s find out how your little peanut is doing.”

  Everything seems to happen in fast-forward. Grace lays back on the table after giving me strict orders to stay on the north side of her body and not approach the end of the table under any circumstances. I want to remind her I’ve already seen everything, but it seems like an uncomfortable conversation to have in front of the doctor, so I simply nod and follow orders.

  Dr. Faber calls in a nurse to wheel in a metal cart with various probes and scopes on the side and a large monitor on top. “You’re a bit too early for a traditional ultrasound, so we’re going to have to use the transvaginal ultrasound. It will give us a much better visual and help me determine how far along you are more accurately.”

  He dims the lights and turns on the monitor, the whole setup giving off a soft hum. I look away as he inserts the probe. I want to be mature and supportive, but being in the room right now feels like a deep dive into the fatherhood pool, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

  “There we go,” Dr. Faber says, pointing to the screen.

  I look and see a tiny white shape coming into focus, a tiny flicker in the center of it. My heart swells. I know immediately that is the heartbeat. An actual heartbeat.

  Suddenly, Grace reaches out and grabs my hand. I look down and, even in the dark, I can see there are tears in her eyes.