by Cat Schield
“You missed the Potts shoot yesterday afternoon,” the woman continued with unrelenting censure. “And your agency is screaming mad.”
Even though it was barely noon, the woman held a crystal tumbler and looked decidedly unsteady as she marched toward them. Sammi rested her shoulder against the door, visibly shrinking from the incensed woman. Oliver set his palm on her lower back to steady her and felt the shudder that passed through Sammi’s slender frame as the woman drew near.
“If you keep behaving like this, they’ll fire you, and then where will we be?” Catching sight of Oliver, she narrowed her eyes and gave him a skeptical once-over. Taking in his worn leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans, she sneered. “Who the hell is this?”
“I’m Oliver,” he stated coolly, not bothering to hide his disgust at the woman’s condition. Although he’d already guessed her identity, he countered, “And you are...?”
His discourteous tone made Sammi gasp, but the older woman was either too inebriated to notice his rudeness or too self-involved to recognize that it was her offensive treatment of her daughter that had irritated him.
“This is Celeste,” Sammi introduced, her gaze shifting back and forth like a wary mouse caught between two predators.
“I’m Samantha’s mother.” Celeste stared daggers at Sammi. “I suppose this is who you’ve been spending time with instead of working? I can’t believe you dumped Ty to take up with him.”
Couldn’t the woman see how fragile Sammi was? Oliver rocked onto his toes, but the urge to shove the abusive woman out of the way and propel Sammi into the apartment dimmed at her stricken look. Although she’d mentioned an argument with her mother, this unhealthy family dynamic was more extreme than he’d expected. And from Sammi’s tension, Oliver could see how much it pained her.
Questions bombarded him. Why hadn’t she separated herself from this noxious environment? Obviously, her mother didn’t have Sammi’s best interest at heart.
Celeste’s voice shifted from accusation to woe as she added, “Why are you so determined to punish me?”
“She’s been in the hospital.” Oliver ground out the words, his anger barely suppressed.
He expected the news would provoke a dramatic change in the woman’s behavior, but her next reaction he didn’t see coming.
“Oh, thank heavens,” she said, displaying yet another quicksilver change in mood. “I was worried you wouldn’t do the right thing and take care of it. Now you can keep working.”
Celeste’s obvious delight was a crushing blow, and both Sammi and Oliver stiffened at her mother’s shocking insensitivity. That Celeste believed she knew what was best for Sammi without asking her daughter’s opinion knocked the breath from Oliver’s lungs. He glanced over at Sammi, concern escalating as the blood drained from her already pale face. She looked devastated and utterly defeated. Oliver’s temper flared at Celeste’s lack of concern for her pregnant daughter’s well-being.
“She was in an accident,” he declared, charging into the fray like a white knight to defend a damsel in distress. It wasn’t a role that he had much experience with, but Sammi seemed incapable of standing up for herself. “She was knocked down by a bike messenger and has a concussion.” Oliver was on the verge of sweeping Sammi into his arms and blowing past her mother when Sammi slapped her hand over her mouth and raced toward a door on the far side of the room.
“Where are you going?” her mother shouted after her, before turning to glare at Oliver. “I suppose you’re the father.” Celeste took two steps toward him, her hips swaying in her manner that suggested she was the dominant figure in the room. Her scathing assessment dismissed him as a nobody even before she spoke. “You don’t look like much. If you think that my daughter is your ticket to better things, you’re wrong.”
Said the woman who was day drinking and berating her daughter for not working hard enough. Oliver shook his head in disgust. If Celeste was managing Sammi, no doubt she was relying on her daughter’s modeling as her source of income.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Oliver said before dismissing the woman as not worth his time. Pushing past Celeste, Oliver followed Sammi and found himself in a small bedroom. An open door led to an adjoining bathroom where Sammi was splashing water on her face.
“Does she live here with you?”
“Yes,” Sammi said, the word muffled as she blotted her face with a towel. “I told you I didn’t need your help.”
“She’s not help. There’s no way she’s capable of taking care of you.”
“She’s not usually like this. It’s just that I didn’t call, so she’s been worried.”
“She’s drunk.”
Oliver had no problem slamming Sammi’s mother for overindulging so early in the day. He recognized someone with addiction issues, and his gut knotted at the thought of Sammi raising a child in such a toxic environment.
“I don’t have a choice.” Sammi turned around and leaned back against the sink. “I have nowhere else to go.”
“Come home with me. I can promise you quiet and privacy while we sort through everything that’s going on.”
Her breath hitched, and she knuckled her eyes like a tired toddler. “I can’t. I have to stay here.”
“You don’t have to do anything except take care of yourself and the baby. That’s all that matters right now.” Seeing her exhaustion, he wondered if she realized how much the vivid despair on her face exposed about her feelings regarding her current situation. “Pack a bag and let’s go.”
* * *
Oliver ushered Sammi into a guest room in his spacious SoHo loft and set her overnight bag on the bed. As in the rest of the apartment, the walls had been painted a soft gray. Floor-to-ceiling white drapes framed tall windows and the narrow desk that sat below them. A queen-size bed sat atop a steel-blue area rug whose color matched the throw pillows and blanket draped across the white comforter.
Sammi immediately felt at home in the restful room. “I promise, I won’t overstay my welcome,” she said, setting her hand on her overnight bag.
“Stay as long as you need to.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Did you look over the recommended list of obstetricians I gave you earlier?” he asked, ignoring her ongoing resistance to his help.
“Not yet.”
Although the doctor at the hospital hadn’t seen any indication that the fall had affected her pregnancy, he’d recommended that she make an appointment with her obstetrician as soon as possible to have an ultrasound. Since Sammi hadn’t yet chosen a doctor, while she’d slept, Oliver had taken it upon himself to locate the best ones in Manhattan.
“Let me know the details when you make the appointment.”
His words sent a strong jolt of uncertainty through Sammi. “What for?”
“I intend to go with you.”
His determination caused her pulse to jump. She fanned her fingers over her still-flat belly, unsure what to make of his startling change of heart. Part of her wanted to read too much into his support, but so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours... Dare she trust that he’d stick around once this current crisis was over and he realized that being a parent was forever?
“Yesterday you weren’t sure this was your baby.”
“I’m still not.”
“So why are you insisting on being with me for my appointment?”
“I feel responsible. Your accident happened in front of my building.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Plus, you don’t seem the type to make up something that would be easy to disprove.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that,” she declared, unaccountably frustrated that he trusted her.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But the fact that you’re trying so hard to avoid my help gives me reason to believe that you believe the baby is mine.”
; “You realize I could be a master manipulator.” Yet even as she said this, she noted his wry expression. Obviously, he wasn’t taking her warning seriously. Was she really that transparent? Given the mocking quirk of his eyebrow, she guessed she was. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m not, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be wary of me.”
If anything, his amusement deepened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just accept his help until she figured out her situation? Heaven knew she had more than enough to worry about between dealing with her mother, remaking her career and finding a new apartment she could afford.
“I have work to do in my studio,” he said. “Why don’t you settle in and then rest. We can talk over dinner. If you get hungry in the meantime, my housekeeper will fix you whatever you want. Her name is Marie.”
“Thank you.”
Other words wanted to pour out of her. She had questions about why he was helping her and how he saw the future playing out for them. That he’d led her to a guest room rather than the master bedroom was a good indication that there’d be no more drugging kisses and passion-filled nights ahead of her. She’d have to be content with the memory of his lips trailing over her skin and the way she’d lost her mind as their bodies came together.
“No need for thanks.” If he had any inclination where her thoughts had gone, he gave no indication. “I’ll see you later.”
As Oliver’s footsteps retreated down the hall, Sammi’s knees buckled and she dropped onto the bed. Had coming here been the right decision? Ever since their first night together, she’d recognized that anything beyond a single night in his bed would end badly for her. His reputation as a hard-partying player who abused drugs and alcohol might be behind him, but he didn’t strike her as a good bet for long-term involvement. Yet here she was, ensconced in his SoHo apartment, hiding from her mother, out of touch with reality, unsure of what life-altering issue to tackle first.
The contents of her overnight bag awaited her attention. She had no idea what she’d packed. Earlier, with Oliver looming in her bedroom doorway, overseeing her efforts as if expecting her to collapse at any second, she’d been too distracted to think straight. Sammi unzipped her bag and began to pull out the things she’d brought with her, forcing herself to make peace with her decision to come here and take stock of what she had to work with. For months now, she’d been wanting a fresh start but couldn’t find the breathing room to clear her head and make a plan. Oliver had offered her the peace and space to do so. She would’ve been a fool not to take it.
Once everything was put away, she settled at the desk with a blank notebook and a batch of colorful pens. Working through her problems was easier when she put pen to paper and made lists. With her thoughts spinning, she wrote Wants at the top of the first page and began brainstorming.
At the top of the list was her baby. She hadn’t realized how keenly she longed for the child until she registered the concerned expression on the nurse’s face after discovering Sammi was pregnant. At that moment, as she’d contemplated whether or not the baby had survived her fall, she’d embraced motherhood with a fervent grip and swore she’d never let go.
Sammi went on to fill the page with her heart’s desires, not pausing to edit as she wrote. Not everything was achievable or even all that specific, but the act of emptying herself would open up space for all the actions she needed to take.
Turning the page, she created a to-do list. First of all, she needed to have a conversation with her modeling agency. She hadn’t yet told them she was pregnant and hoped she could book some pregnancy shoots while she figured out what to do next. Celeste blithely refused to acknowledge that with each passing birthday Sammi grew closer to the end of her career. Celeste’s refusal to recognize that her daughter couldn’t model forever had made it hard for Sammi to plan for the future. If only she had some idea what direction to take. She’d never been given a moment’s peace to think about what she’d love to do, much less figure out something she was good at.
Next, Sammi needed to give notice and find a new apartment, something more affordable. A shiver ran through her as she considered how badly her mother was going to freak when she learned she had to move. Sammi hardened her resolve. If Celeste didn’t have the funds to live on her own, then that was her own fault. She’d been drawing a salary as Sammi’s manager for years. Meanwhile, she’d done little to contribute to the cost associated with living in Manhattan, leaving her daughter to foot the bills. Sammi recognized that she’d let her mother take advantage, but without Celeste, Sammi would never have become a success.
Sammi turned the page in her notebook and wrote at the top: Things I Love. Then she tapped her pen against her chin and pondered. Nothing immediately came to mind. What was wrong with her? How could she not have things she loved? Frustration and annoyance swirled about her, making clear thinking nearly impossible. Come on. There had to be something she enjoyed.
Flowers. She liked flowers. Could she do something with flowers?
She liked shopping and clothes. Doing something in the fashion world made sense, considering she’d been in the industry all her life. Sammi pondered the career shift that Oliver had gone through from model to photographer. She made a note to ask him why he’d chosen to step behind a camera and how he’d known he would be successful at it. She could also reach out to models who’d gotten out of the business. Surely their stories could spark ideas for her.
Feeling less overwhelmed, Sammi contacted her landlord and gave her thirty-day notice. Since she’d leased the apartment fully furnished, at least she wouldn’t have a lot to move. With this first step she’d unlocked the immobility that had characterized her existence for the last year. Both relief and terror swept through her. She’d set her foot on the path to her future, and there was no going back.
With the last of her energy, she sent her mother a text and explained what she’d done. Then, too spent to face her mother’s wrath, she shut off her phone and set it aside. Lying down on the bed, she rested her palms over her abdomen and closed her eyes. She would picture a future with her baby and keep her focus fixed there. In the midst of her visualization, as she held her new baby in her arms, she was surprised when Oliver’s handsome face made an appearance. The joyful satisfaction in his blue gaze made her heart jump.
Her eyes flashed open and she blinked rapidly to reorient herself in the unfamiliar room. She sat up and spent several seconds trying to catch her breath. It was so tempting to imagine him as part of her and her baby’s future. But was it realistic? She had a hard time picturing Oliver enjoying the noisy chaos that surrounded children.
The lack of a father in her own life had given her plenty of opportunity to imagine the perfect dad. He was the sort who would get down on the floor and play. Who never complained about changing diapers and adored reading bedtime stories. He would attend every school function and volunteer to coach soccer games. His child would never know harsh words or feel neglected. Their home would be filled with love and happy moments.
Little of that sounded like Oliver.
A light knock on her door brought her off the bed. She crossed the room and answered the summons. The familiar brunette standing outside her door was the same one who’d answered Oliver’s phone and confronted her on the street. Oliver’s girlfriend. Sammi’s stomach sank. In the wake of the accident she’d forgotten all about this wrinkle.
“There’s nothing going on between Oliver and me,” Sammi began, meeting the woman’s startled brown eyes as she rushed to excuse what she’d done, even as a jealous lump formed in her stomach. “He’s just helping me out for a few days. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Okay...” The woman drew out the word uncertainly. She held a tablet clutched against her chest. “I’m Heidi. Oliver’s assistant. He told me to check and see if there was anything you need. If you have a specific dietary requirement, I
can leave instructions for his housekeeper.”
“You’re his...assistant?” Sammi grew light-headed with relief. Not only hadn’t she done anything wrong when she’d slept with Oliver, but he wasn’t already taken. “Not his girlfriend?”
“Oh, no.” Heidi’s denial was so vehement that if Sammi wasn’t already reeling from everything that had happened to her these last few days, she might have laughed out loud. “Although my boyfriend complains that I’m Oliver’s work wife.”
“You have a boyfriend.” The fact that Sammi had felt possessive of Oliver for even the briefest of seconds demonstrated that she made a mistake coming here. “That’s nice.”
“Almost two years now,” Heidi continued with a broad smile. “Anyway, if there’s anything you need, just text me. Here’s my number.” She extended a business card. “Oliver told me to take good care of you. And that’s what I intend to do.”
Five
Oliver left Sammi to settle into his guest room and headed downstairs to his studio. As he did every time he needed to step away from things that were bothering him, Oliver intended to lose himself inside his creative process. Today, however, as he looked through the photos he’d taken at a shoot earlier in the week, the issues confronting him were not so easy to shake.
Had inviting Sammi to stay been a mistake? He’d never opened up his home like this to a woman he’d slept with. On the other hand, he’d never slipped up and gotten anyone pregnant before. That is, if the child was even his.
While he didn’t regret insisting that Sammi leave her mother’s toxic presence, the smart move would’ve been to put her up in a hotel and hire someone to watch over her for a few days. Instead, he’d not just inserted himself into her life, but by bringing her back to his apartment, he’d also drawn her deep into his. If the situation with her went sideways, how could he eject a pregnant woman from his home after he’d offered her his help?
