by Lauren Runow
When I walk back to the table, Bryce is looking at me with pride.
“So?” he asks.
I let out a large smile. “I have two new clients!” My words come out with a laugh. My heart is racing a little, and my hands are a tiny bit shaky. I didn’t realize how nervous I was, but now that it’s done, I have a bit of an adrenaline rush. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“You’re welcome.”
His eyes crinkle on the sides with the smile, and his dimples show. I didn’t notice them before, but now that they’re there, I want nothing more than to kiss him.
Oh dear, what’s gotten into me?
I look at my phone again for the time. “I have to get back to work.”
I rise from my chair, and he stands as well.
“Can I see you again?”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have butterflies. “Bryce, I …”
I can’t.
Sometimes, when I’m with Bryce, I forget my responsibilities. Yes, I know single mothers date but not this mama. And especially not with a man like Bryce Sexton. He’s rich and gorgeous and broody as fuck. And let’s be honest; he’s probably great in bed. But he’s everything I don’t want in my life.
My life is Charlie.
I promised myself I wouldn’t have men coming in and out of his life, and I know, in the end, it will be worth it. He needs stability. He needs me, not half of me.
“I like you.” I sigh and shake my head. “God, that sounds so weird. You’re handsome and successful and kinda funny. I like that you’re easy to talk to, but a relationship is not in the cards for me. I’m afraid you’re just wasting your time.”
“You think I’m handsome,” he says with a debonair smile.
“Out of all I just said, that’s what you heard?”
“And funny and easy to talk to.”
“Kinda funny,” I correct.
He grins. “Just so you know, I have two brothers and hundreds of people who work for me who would very much disagree with that.”
I swallow a smile. “Good-bye, Bryce.”
As I walk to the door, he doesn’t follow me.
He stands by the table, his hands in his pockets and a raised chin. “Good-bye, Tessa.”
By the grace of God, I allow myself to walk out that door.
The only downside to moving from Berkeley was finding a new babysitter for Charlie. When I lived with my mom, we had great neighbors who would look after him while I worked. Now that I’m in the city, I have Charlie in a daycare after school.
“How was your day, buddy?” I ask him as we stroll down the street to our building.
“It was good. Mrs. O’Leary put a movie on for us because it was too windy outside.” He’s swinging our joined hands in the air as we walk. “She made us watch the old Superman. It was okay, but he’s no Henry Cavill.”
I nod my head with agreement. “No man is.”
“Not only is he an immersive, character-driven actor, but he also has the body of a Greek god,” he says with his preschool lisp.
I halt and look down at his freckled face. “Where did you hear that?”
“I heard you say that to Abby.”
I tug on his hand and start walking again. “I’m gonna have to start watching what I say around you.”
“You’ve had to watch for a while. I’m like a sponge. I absorb everything!”
My laugh is muffled by his face as I lean down to hug him.
When I release him, he’s all ready to shout his request. “Hey, Mom, can we stop at the toy store? There’s a new Lego Mindstorm out that I want to get.”
I shake my head. “I just bought you one last week.”
“And I built it already,” he says loudly.
“Legos cost money, kid. They don’t come for free.”
He twists his mouth to the side as his feet skip over a crack on the sidewalk. “What kind of job can I get with a kindergarten degree?”
“Official bed-maker. I’ll give you a quarter every day if you make your bed in the morning.”
He thinks about this for a moment before answering, “Okay, but I’ll expect a raise after six months.”
We stop at the store and pick up dinner. Grilled chicken with Brussels sprouts. Yes, I have the only kid in America who loves vegetables. I’m not complaining. His healthy eating habits make me eat better … not that I’d blanch at polishing off an entire tray of brownies by myself. I just try to eat healthier when Charlie’s around.
As the chicken sautés in the pan, I walk into Charlie’s room and grab his laundry basket. We have a washer and dryer on the ground floor, so tonight, after Charlie goes to bed, I’ll run a load down.
Sorting his clothes of the whites, I check the pockets for any cookie remains or Lego pieces. In the pocket of Charlie’s Giants jacket, I find a bracelet. It’s wide with orange and black laces intertwined with a black snap clasp and a small compass.
“What’s this?” I ask Charlie, who’s watching TV in his pajamas.
“My survivor bracelet!” He jumps up from the floor and runs up to me, grabbing the bracelet and sliding it up his arm toward his bicep since it’s way too big for him.
“What’s a survival bracelet?”
He points to the different facets of the bracelet. “There’s a scraper here to start a fire, or you can use it as a knife. And this is a compass, so I can find my way out of the woods. And listen.” He takes it off and holds the open clasp to his mouth, eliciting a very loud whistling sound. “I can call for help!”
“Very cool,” I say, covering my ears and scrunching my face.
“Look”—he holds it up for me to see more closely—“you can unravel it here, and it’s a parachute cord.”
I remove my hands from my ears. “And how will that help you survive?”
“It’s really, really, really strong, Mom. It can hold, like, all of your weight. And it looks cool!” he says, showing me again with pride as he puts it back on his arm.
“Where did you get that?”
“Grandpa Mason. He said it was my dad’s. Did you know Dad was a Boy Scout? He said I should be one, too. Can I, Mommy?” He jumps up and down, holding his little hands together in a plea and pouting his bottom lip out.
Irritation slowly makes its way up my spine. I hate that the Masons put these ideas in his head. It’s not that I have a problem with Charlie being a Scout per se. It’s a great organization. I would just prefer Charlie to pick his extracurricular activities based on what he wants to do. Not what his dad did.
My heart and head are at a total loss for how to deal with this situation. When I invited the Masons to be part of Charlie’s life, I expected this sort of thing. I just don’t know how I feel about Charlie looking so damn excited at the idea.
I try to tamp down my feelings. “I’ll look into it, okay? I don’t know much about it, so I can’t promise anything.”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “Thanks, Mommy.”
I drop to my knees, getting the best hug in the world from my favorite little guy. “Okay, go sit at the table. Dinner is almost ready.”
He takes his place at the table as I walk over to the refrigerator. I’m about to pour a glass of milk when there’s a knock at the door. I walk to the stove and turn down the chicken before answering it.
“Special delivery!” Abby says as I let her in. She has a large plant in her arms, wrapped in cellophane paper.
She comes inside and places the plant on the table beside my and Charlie’s dinner plates. I close the door and walk over to see it’s more like a small tree than a plant.
“You bought us a tree?” I ask.
While it’s a lovely gesture, it’s odd. A bottle of wine is more Abby’s style.
“Cool!” Charlie says, poking through the cellophane at the bark.
Abby lets out a laugh. “No, the delivery guy rang my bell instead of yours. Imagine my dismay when I saw the card was addressed to you.”
The tree is about two feet tall wi
th a braided trunk and flat green leaves.
She pulls a small white card off the cellophane and hands it to me. “You should be happy it was me who answered the door and not Christine. She’d be pissed if she saw who’d sent it.”
“You read my card?” I open the envelope and pull out a small notecard.
She shrugs. “I was nosy.”
I open it and read the inscription. “Thank you for the coffee. Bryce.”
Along with the card is his business card. It’s black with Sexton written in white font on one side, his personal information on the other.
Abby hits me in the side with her elbow. “Coffee,” she says with waggling brows.
I give her a mom stare and nod toward Charlie. This is not something I want to discuss in front of my son.
Ignoring me, she continues, “It looks like you have an admirer. You have to give him credit. He’s not like every other man, sending random flowers that will die a week later. He sent you a money tree.”
“A money tree?” My jaw drops in disgust. I know the man has wealth but to rub it in my face is a bit much.
Abby laughs and unwraps the cellophane. “You see the braided trunk there? That’s a money tree. It’s a sign of good fortune. He wants to bring you luck,” she says with a smile.
I glance at the trunk of the tree, noticing for the first time the intricacy of the way it’s grown. The trunk is intertwined with the other limbs, creating a union to make one strong base. It reminds me of the Living Wall I was admiring when I first met Bryce and the way nature blended everything together.
This tree isn’t just about the luck I told him I needed. He’s bringing us back to that wall. The moment we met.
Now that I see the actual tree for what it is, my heart beats faster, and I have to breathe through dishing up Charlie’s food, so I don’t give in to my nerves.
“You’re trembling.” She places a hand on my arm.
I shake my head to gather my wits. “Charlie, eat your dinner.”
While he starts eating, I remove the rest of the paper and toss it in the trash. Then, I walk the tree into the living room and place it by the window.
Abby comes up behind me. “You must really like him,” she says.
I lean back, looking into her kind brown eyes.
“I know you have these rules about men, but it’s okay to be flattered.”
“Flattery is one thing. This man is”—I pause to think of exactly what Bryce is—“all consuming. He’s like the kind of guy you read about in romance novels. This wealthy, untouchable guy who seeks out the damsel in distress. Except, in this book, I’m the damsel with a kid, being courted by a guy who let his assistant seduce him in his office.”
“Is that what this is about?” She places a hand on her hip and scowls at me. “Don’t let Christine get to you. So what if they fooled around? That was before he met you.”
“So, they did fool around? Bryce said they didn’t. He said he stopped it before it happened.”
“He’s probably telling the truth. I told you before not to believe everything Christine says.”
“You don’t think she seduced him?” I ask, confused.
“Oh, she definitely tried to seduce him. I just don’t think it went anywhere. And, like I said, even if it did, it was before he met you. I’m not saying you should marry the guy. You don’t even have to introduce him to Charlie. I just think you shouldn’t be afraid to give it a try.”
I lean back against the window frame and look back at Charlie. He’s using his fork as an airplane and diving into his Brussels sprouts.
“He means everything to me.”
She turns around and looks toward Charlie. “He should. He’s a great kid. And you’re a great mom. If a man’s courting you, let him. Enjoy his attention. Have fun while you’re young.”
I roll my head from side to side and think about what she’s saying. I’m not convinced, but I appreciate her sentiment.
My phone vibrates with a text message from my job. “I just got my schedule for tomorrow. I’m booked with clients all day.”
She hip-bumps me. “See? Your good luck and fortune are already coming. Do you need me to pick up Charlie from daycare?”
I look and see my appointments go until seven o’clock. “That would be a godsend.”
Abby walks to Charlie and gives him a kiss on the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, squirt. We’ll grab quesadillas.”
Charlie lifts his fist in the air and pulls it down to his side. “Yes!”
She opens the door and winks at me. “Happy courting,” she says and then closes the door behind her.
I take a seat at the table with Charlie and stab a Brussels sprout.
“I like the new tree,” he says. “Especially if it’s gonna bring us money.”
“Since when do you care about money?”
“Legos, Mom,” he says with a sarcastic tone. “They don’t come for free.”
9
BRYCE
It’s been three days since I took Tessa to coffee. I know sending her the money tree was too much, but when she said she could use some luck, the Guiana chestnut was the perfect thing to send.
I look up from my desk at the six-foot tree in my office. My mother bought it for me when I graduated from Stanford. I can’t say it’s brought me a tremendous amount of luck, but I believe in it anyway.
I go back to reading the report on street racing my assistant has been working on. Jalynn is a better writer than I thought she’d be, mixing prose with facts and witty sentiment. She has this dry sense of humor that is subtle enough not to ruin the professionalism of the piece, yet it’s enough to keep the reader interested.
My office phone lights up. I hit the answer button.
“Your father is here,” Jalynn says hesitantly.
Not expecting my father, I pull up my Outlook calendar and see it’s clear for this time. We didn’t have a planned appointment, and I know from previous experience that an unannounced visit from my father is never a good thing.
“What is he doing here?”
“I’m not sure. I escorted him to the conference room and got him some sparkling water,” Jalynn answers. She’s been working for me for only two weeks, and she already knows the drill. “Should I tell him you’re out of the office and you won’t be back for the rest of the day?”
It’s not a bad idea. If my father unexpectedly showed up here, it’s because he planned to catch me off guard. The man hasn’t been inside this building in months.
“No. If he’s here, it’s a serious matter. I’ll meet with him.”
When I exit my office, Jalynn looks up from her computer with wide eyes. I walk past her and down the hall to the conference room where my father, Edward Sexton, is standing by one of the desk chairs, looking out the window.
“Father,” I call out as I walk into the room.
He turns to me. His hair is combed back to match the immaculate lines of the pinstripes on his jacket. His handkerchief matches his gold tie.
“I forgot how incredible the view is from up here,” he says, his voice getting raspier with middle age yet still deep. “You can see Alcatraz.”
“A sight that is only fascinating to you and Austin. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
He casts a sideways grin at the thought. “I had high hopes for that one. Too bad he’s still a slacker.”
“Austin’s doing a great job. His division is posting the highest revenue in company history, and he just secured a high-profile interview, exclusive to all platforms of Sexton Media,” I state.
The lines on his forehead crease deeply. “Since when are you one to stick up for your brother? You always thought he was a fuckup.”
I ignore his comment and get down to business. I walk toward the table and firmly place two hands on the back of one of the chairs. “What do you want?” I ask.
He adjusts the buttons on his double-breasted suit. “Sexton Media’s assets will be split into two companies—one ori
ented toward media and the other toward publishing.”
I clench my jaw and hold back the foul-mouthed things I want to shout at this moment. “Fuck me,” I say despite my attempt to be civil. “You can’t do that.”
“Tanner thinks it’s a brilliant idea. It’s how NewsCorp runs their business model. It’s pretty much how things are already run around here. You’ll still run the print, and Austin will handle digital.”
“Tanner agreed to this?” I ask, shocked that he would think this was a good idea.
“It was his idea,” my father gloats.
I push off the back of the chair and run my hands through my hair. In any other situation, I would think the division of the company was a smart financial move, but knowing my father and Missy, they have other plans.
“This makes it easier for you to sell. You’re going to set them up to be two publicly traded companies.”
He blinks back at me as if shocked I came to that conclusion so fast. “You’ll be a billionaire and never have to work a day in your life.”
“I have all the money I need.”
“But it’s not enough to live on,” he shouts, his hands flying up in the air.
“Then, take more,” I offer. “You and Missy already bleed five million a year as your salary. Take my share. I’ll gladly go without.”
He puts his back to me as his hand flies to his mouth in aggravation. “Taking a salary of a few million is hardly a way to live. Missy wants to travel the world. She wants a yacht to sail us around the Mediterranean.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? For Missy?” The words come out like venom.
He spins back in my direction. His hand is on his hip. “She’s my wife. I will do anything she needs.”
“Let’s just hope you keep this one alive.” It’s an awful thing to say. I don’t know why I said it, but fuck it, I did.
He takes a step toward me, his black eyes focused on me as he points a finger. “Don’t you ever speak of your mother that way again.” I can hear the sharp inhale through his nose, and he gains his composure. “What are you doing, Bryce? You don’t like Missy, and I get it. Do you think I would have liked it if my father had married a girl my age after my mom died and then threatened to take away everything my mother had worked for? I understand. Son”—he places a hand on my shoulder—“I understand.”
