by Whitney G.
His thin smile faded and he patted her head. “Next time, babe. Okay?”
“Okay...” She seemed saddened, but then she looked up at me and whispered, “We’re getting pizza!”
My dad left the room and Hayley followed him into the living room. She stretched her arms up in the air—waiting for our mother to give her a hug, but she simply looked down at her and said, “We’ll be back, Hayley.”
And with that, they left and slammed the door to our trailer on their way out.
Sighing, I went returned to our room and picked up the Ziploc bags, placing them into the refrigerator. I knew they would come in handy later tonight.
“I love pizza, Johnnie. Don’t you?” Hayley sat on the couch and looked out the window. “It’s my favorite!”
I said nothing and pulled out my homework, looking up every fifteen minutes or so—watching Hayley stare out the window in anticipation of a pizza that was never coming.
After three hours of waiting, she eventually fell asleep. I wanted to carry her back into our room and tuck her into bed, but I didn’t want her to wake up hungry.
“Hayley?” I shook her shoulder. “Hayley, wake up.”
“Did the pizza come?” she murmured.
“No...It didn’t. You need to eat something before bed.” I handed her a plate of microwaved mashed potatoes and macaroni. “Here.”
She scrunched her face and shook her head. “I don’t want it.”
“Now, Hayley. Eat.”
Frowning, she picked up the fork and took small, slow bites. When she finished, she walked over to where I was sitting and grabbed the bright pink sheet I’d given to my mother hours ago.
“E-e-e-meh-meh-oh-oh-reh-yuh. P—re-s-c-ool. Emehreeyuh Puhreyscool?” She looked up at me.
“Emory preschool.”
“E-mor-y pre-school.” She repeated and her eyes lit up. “I’m going to pre-school, Johnnie?! I’ll read really really good if I get to go!”
“We’ll see...”
“That means yes!” She jumped up and hugged me. “Oh, I can’t wait! I can’t wait!”
I forced a smile and decided to change the subject. I didn’t want to get her hopes up.
“Let’s watch a movie, Hayley.” I reached for her hand. “Which one do you want to watch?”
“Cinderella!”
“Okay.” I walked her back into our room and tucked her underneath the covers. Then I hooked up the VHS player and put in the movie, waiting for her to fall asleep.
She sang along to every song, encouraging me to sing along as well, and since I knew all the words from the millions of times we’d watched it before, I tried not to sound too terrible.
As the evil stepmother locked Cinderella away in the attic, she rolled over to face me. “I got a question, Johnnie...”
“What is it?”
“Are you my gwardan?’
“Your what?”
“My gwardan...Elmo says everybody has a mommy, a daddy, or a gwardan.”
“Your guardian?”
She nodded and I sighed. “No. I’m not your guardian. I’m just your big brother.”
“But you do everything a guar-di-an does...You tuck me into bed at night...You teach me how to read...You get me food...”
“Go to sleep, Hayley.”
“And when I cry you come and hug me so I can stop...” She rolled back over. “That’s what guardians do, Johnnie. I saw it on the TV...”
A week later...
It was Hayley’s first day of pre-K and my mother had shockingly remembered to take her. As the three of us walked to Emory, Hayley giggled and clapped about going to “Real school! Like on TV!”
“Can you stop fucking shouting?” My mother rolled her eyes. “It’s too early in the morning for that shit.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy...” She looked up at me—hurt, so I patted her head and made a funny face to get her to smile again.
The three of us walked into the school building and waited as my mom filled out more paperwork and handed over her ID. When she was finished, one of the teachers led us into a colorful classroom.
Hayley squealed and immediately let our hands go—walking around the room in awe.
“Wow.” The teacher smiled. “I think that’s the most excited I’ve ever seen a child about her first day of school. My name is Miss Cole and I’ll be Hayley’s general education teacher for the year, Mrs. Statham. Since you’re here early, where would you like to sit today?”
“Sit?”
“Yes. We ask that at least one parent sit with the child on their first day of pre-K, so they can make the transition as easily as possible. Don’t worry, during naptime the principal orders food for all the parents so you can get a little break.”
“I...” My mother shook her head. “I can’t stay here all day...I have...I have a long shift ahead of me at the hospital...Lots of lives are at stake. She’ll be just fine.”
Miss Cole looked confused. “Can you stay for the first couple hours at least? We usually let the kids introduce themselves and their parents over orange juice and muffins.”
“No, I can’t. Sorry.” She shrugged. “Can my son take my place?”
“Um...Doesn’t he have to go to school today, too?”
“Do you have school today, Jonathan?” She looked down at me and then she laughed. “Of course he has school, but it’s only two blocks down. Since you guys are Emory I and he’s at Emory II can’t you call over and work something out? I would stay if I could—I really would, because I don’t want her to be alone on her first day...If I had known about this I promise I would’ve taken off...I just...I just can’t—not at the last minute.”
Miss Cole’s eyes softened and she looked like she actually believed my mom’s lies. “I’ll see what we can do, Mrs. Statham. Thank you for all the hard work you do at the hospital.”
My mother reached out to shake her hand and then she walked over to Hayley, whispering something in her ear that made her bright face dim and her eyes water.
“Mr. Big Brother?” Miss Cole handed me two paper plates. “Pick whatever seat you want for you and your little sister and then take out the crayons that are in the desk. Before we introduce ourselves, we’re going to draw a picture of our favorite things. I’ll sort everything out with Emory II when I get back. I have to get more students.”
My mother patted Hayley’s head one more time and threw two thumbs up at us as she left the classroom, saying, “I love you, Jonathan and Hayley!” in the fakest voice I’d ever heard.
I tried to keep Hayley distracted by suggesting things for her to draw on her plate, but I couldn’t help but notice the tears falling down her face as the other kids took seats with their parents, as they were kissed and hugged repeatedly.
“Make sure you draw a picture of your parents or your guardians on the paper plate too!” Miss Cole smiled from the front of the room.
Hayley’s bottom lip quivered and she took several short breaths, a sign that another one of her long crying episodes was about to begin. Before she could get it out, I tilted her face towards me and whispered, “Can you keep a secret, Hayley?”
She nodded, still taking short erratic breaths.
“What does a secret mean?”
“I...I can’t... tell no one...”
“Exactly...” I held her chin up and wiped her tears away with my sleeves. “So the secret is...I am your guardian.”
“I knew it!” She covered her mouth and then uncovered it, whispering, “I knew it, Johnnie! I won’t tell no one! Ever! I pinky promise!”
She held out her pinky for me to seal the deal and then she leaned over and gave me a hug. She started to color her plate again and then she looked up at me. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think mommy and daddy love me...” She blinked.
“That’s not true, Hayley. They do love you.”
“No, they don't. They’re not like the mommies and daddies on TV...They don’t ca
re...But you do, Johnnie...You’re the best guardian in the world.”
Chapter 3
Claire
I sat still in my chair at Sweet Dolce—the most highly regarded catering business in San Francisco. I was trying my best not to jump over the table and punch the catering director in the eye, trying not to scream at her for being completely unprofessional.
Her name was Miss Hansen and for the past hour and a half, she’d been flirting with Jonathan as if I wasn’t sitting right next to him. She’d shown us over twenty examples of her fruit displays and she’d only asked for Jonathan’s opinion—batting her big brown eyes each time she uttered, “How do you like it, Mr. Statham?”
What’s worse was that the members of her staff—all female, were standing in the room. They were eye fucking his every move and frowning at me whenever I said a single word.
“And lastly, this is an example of our chocolate covered strawberry tier.” Miss Hansen smiled as her assistants set a medium-sized chocolate fountain in front of us. “The strawberries are cemented around the edges with a clear sugar glue, and your guests will be able to retrieve the chocolate strawberries that are currently floating on the second level.”
“With sticks?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes, Mr. Statham.” She nodded and blushed. “We can even engrave your last name onto the sticks for an extra touch of personalization.” She pulled out a glass box of wooden sticks, handing one to him and asking if he wanted to give it a try.
“Do you have any questions about anything, Miss Gracen?” She looked at me for the first time all day. “Is there anything else you would like me to show you?”
“No.” I placed my left hand over Jonathan’s, purposely showing off my massive engagement ring. “I think you’ve covered everything. Can my fiancée and I have a few minutes alone please?”
“Of course.” She sneered as she glanced at my ring, and ordered her staff to follow her out of the room.
As soon as they were gone, I picked up my fork and stabbed a strawberry before dipping it into the fountain. Before I could bring it to my lips, Jonathan gently grabbed my hand and pushed the fruit into his mouth.
“It’s very good.” He smiled and prepared one for me to try. “What do you think?”
“It’s okay. It could be better.”
“Are you saying that because she was flirting with me or do you honestly think it could be better?”
“So you did notice how much extra attention she was giving you?”
He smiled.
“It’s not funny, Jonathan.”
“I’m not laughing, Claire.” He mocked me.
“In that case, you should’ve said something...”
“Something like what?”
“Nothing.” I decided to change the subject. “I did like her take on white truffles by filling them with buttercream, and I appreciated the caramelized almond dip. That was different.”
“Something like what?” He cupped my face in his hands. “Are you jealous?”
“No...”
He trailed his fingers across my lips. “Are you sure? You have no reason to be...”
“I’m not jealous. I’m just...It would be really nice if we went somewhere and every woman wasn’t gaping at you or flirting with you like I’m not even there—like I’m invisible.”
I remembered our last dinner date at a restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf, how the waitress immediately blushed bright red and giggled—fucking giggled, upon seeing Jonathan.
I was pretty sure that if he hadn’t ordered my food for me, she would’ve never asked me what I wanted, because outside of saying “More water, Miss?” or “May I take your plate?” she directed all of her attention towards him.
“I could say the same for you.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Other men stare at you all the time, especially when you’re wearing a dress.”
“Well, at least I don’t flirt back.” I picked up one of the heart-shaped croissants and handed it to him. “Men won’t even talk to me when you’re around and you know it... How do you feel about these croissants? Do you like how she made them ‘pieces’ in the upside down chess square cake? Or do you think she could’ve—”
He pressed his lips against mine and pulled me into his lap, making me forget whatever I was about to say.
“First of all,” he said as he let my lips go. “I never flirt back. I simply smile and respond because that’s the nice thing to do. Second of all, the only reason I didn’t look at you during this meeting was because I knew that if I did, I’d be laying you across this table in front of everyone. And third, eight months ago I couldn’t get you to go out in public with me and now you’re showing me affection all the time—which, I fucking love I must say, but I think you are jealous. As a matter of fact, I think you’re the jealous type.”
“What? I am not...”
“You are.” He kissed me again. “But I like it.”
I shook my head, prepared to tell him exactly why I wasn’t the jealous type, but he lifted me out of his lap and set me on the table. Before I could ask what he was doing, he slid the straps of my dress down and unsnapped my bra, letting it fall into my lap.
“Do you want to know how I know you’re the jealous type, Claire?” He grabbed one of the wooden sticks, placing a strawberry on it and smothering it in chocolate.
“Seeing as though I’m not, it’d be pretty interesting to hear your thoughts...”
“Hmmm.” He moved the strawberry over my breasts, letting the chocolate drip over my nipples. Then he slowly moved it towards my mouth. “Eat it...”
I took a few small bites and swallowed. “I can see how dripping chocolate on me proves that I’m the jealous type.”
“You ran onto that stage last year and kissed me in front of everyone because you were jealous that Stacy was pretending to be my girlfriend, because you didn’t want her anywhere near me.”
“No...I ran up there to prove to you that—” I stopped once he leaned forward and licked one of my nipples.
“I think that deep down that’s the real reason why you ran up there—you didn’t want her to have me.” He slowly took my other nipple into his mouth and ran his fingers through my hair.
“That’s not true...” I murmured.
He looked into my eyes and smiled. Then he dipped one of his fingers in chocolate and pushed it into my mouth.
“I wanted to fuck you right on that stage when you did that...” He waited until I’d sucked his finger clean. “But seeing as though you didn’t do it out of jealousy...”
My breath caught in my throat as he pushed my shoulders down so my back was against the table.
“There are other reasons that clearly prove you’re the jealous type...”
I moaned as he shifted the bottom of my dress up to my stomach, as he leaned forward and pressed a long, hot kiss between my thighs.
“The real reason why you always go as my date to company functions isn’t because you’re trying to be a good girlfriend...” His voice was low. “It’s because you don’t want another woman to get close to me without knowing I’m taken. And you make sure that they know because you never let my hand go...Am I drawing the wrong conclusions?”
I didn’t say anything. I just bit my lip as he flicked my clit with his tongue in between sentences—rendering me completely helpless.
He sat up and grabbed another strawberry, letting the warm liquid drip onto my stomach. He kept his gaze locked on mine as he smeared it across my navel.
“You make Angela text you anytime I have a one on-one meeting with a female client...” He swirled his tongue around my skin, gently licking everything and holding my thighs still. “And you always call right before those meetings... Or show up to my office as soon as they’re done...” He kissed his way up to my neck. “You think I haven’t noticed?”
“Jonathan...”
He let out a low laugh and blew a kiss against my ear. “You still don’t think you’re the jealous type?”
&
nbsp; I was trying not to give in. He was kissing my lips and softly caressing my breasts with his hands.
“Am I going to have to fuck you on this table to make you tell me the truth?”
I shook my head and he slowly pulled my legs apart.
“Then tell me the truth, Claire...Tell me you were jealous when you ran up on that stage...”
“I was a little jealous...”
“A little?” He grinned and trailed his fingers against my lower lips.
I sucked in a breath as he massaged my swollen clit with his thumb, as he used his other hand to grab another chocolate strawberry. “A lot...”
“How loud do you think you would scream if I fucked you right now? Do you think the women on the other side of that door would get the point?”
I gasped and squeezed my legs around him. “Please...We have...” I didn’t want to cum on the catering table. “We have other...other appointments to go to...”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but he slowly pulled me back up and licked one last drop of chocolate off my breasts. “We’ll finish this tonight.”
**
Hours later, Greg pulled the town car into a small shopping plaza and slowed as he approached the speed bumps.
“Okay, Claire...” Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh. “This is the last appointment of the day. If you don’t like this place, you’re going to have to pick one of the other eight because I’m not putting up with another day of this shit.”
“Seriously? This is our wedding. Don’t you want it to be perfect?”
“I don’t have to have a wedding and you know that. I just want to marry you—the sooner the better.”
I sighed. Since I’d insisted on having a separate caterer for the main dinner, we’d been testing different sweets caterers all day. While most of them were good, none of them left me that impressed. Either the execution was slightly off, the presentation wasn’t eye-catching enough, or the taste of the food left much to be desired.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll try not to be so critical. The last place wasn’t that bad, it’s just...”
“Just what?”
“There was this place back in Pittsburgh—Stella’s. I used to use them for our company functions and they were phenomenal. It was a tiny business, but the woman who owned it worked magic every single time. She always went out of her way to make sure every fruit and Hors d’oeuvres display was designed to perfection. Plus, she made the best catered food I’ve ever had in my life. I think I’m just comparing everything to that...”
