by Layne, Ivy
I’d figure it out the next day, I decided, as I got ready for bed and climbed in beside Cooper. The meeting with Agent Holley was set for late morning, but Cooper could stay with Petra while I went down to my place before heading into the office for a few hours. Maybe I’d get up early.
Getting up early didn’t happen. Sometime after midnight, I woke to the alien sensation of the bed moving under a small weight. I came awake in a panic to see Petra climbing up from the foot of the bed. Sitting up, I reached for her. “Are you okay, honey? Did you have a bad dream?”
She didn’t answer, instead burrowing into the sliver of space my sitting up had created between Cooper and me. Squished between us, Petra closed her eyes and appeared to go to sleep.
“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t have sex,” Cooper whispered over her sleeping head.
I stifled a laugh. I don’t think I’d ever bothered to put on nightclothes after having sex. Just one of the many habits that would have to change now that we had a toddler in the house. Fortunately, Cooper was wearing boxers, and I had on one of his t-shirts.
I lay down beside Petra, a warm glow settling inside me as her little body relaxed into mine. Such pure trust, to sleep with us when she was scared. I’d do anything to be worthy of that trust.
My thoughts weren’t so generous after three hours of being kicked awake by a restless toddler. Petra slept on, but she was an active sleeper. She turned, stretched, and resettled herself at least every fifteen minutes, shoving Cooper and me out of her way as she did.
I never would have guessed elbows could be a deadly weapon. When six o’clock rolled around, I was cranky, bleary-eyed, bruised, and definitely not going to fall back to sleep.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I saw Petra sleeping peacefully, no hint of the whirling dervish in sight. How could she look so placid when I knew for a fact she was going to pop up at any moment and roll over, leading with her sharp little elbows?
Cooper opened his eyes, his smile so content, so right, I forgot about my bruises and wished I could start every day exactly like this.
A glance at the clock and I said, “Hey, since I’m up, I’m going to leave you with elbows here and go downstairs to grab some things from my closet.”
The light in his eyes nearly brought me to my knees. If I’d realized filling the other half of his closet would make him this happy, I would have done it already.
“Works for me,” he said. “Leave anything you don’t need right away by your front door and I’ll carry it up for you later.”
I kissed Petra’s temple, then Cooper’s lips, lingering there for a long moment, seriously considering falling back into the bed. Sleep. I needed more sleep.
I could sleep later. For now, I was going to grab as much of my closet as I could cram into my few suitcases and start moving in with Cooper.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cooper
Alice snagged my cut-off sweats from the floor, sliding them on under the borrowed T-shirt she'd slept in, and headed out the door with a whispered, “Be back soon.”
I rolled out of bed as carefully as I could, giving Petra a wary look. Man, the kid had some elbows on her. And knees. And a hard head. I wasn't a restless sleeper. Once I was out, I was out.
Alice, on the other hand, moved around in the night, rolling into me, then away, star-fishing on her stomach before flipping to her back, but she kept her elbows to herself.
Petra rotated around the bed like the arms of a clock. At one point I'd woken to a big toe poking me in the nose, its owner splayed on top of the covers, her other foot resting beside Alice’s head. I pushed her foot away and watched in surprise as she sat bolt upright, eyes still closed, turned ninety degrees, and flopped back down, her head on Alice's back and her feet almost turning me into a eunuch.
At least she'd slept. I made a mental note to talk to Alice about finding a child therapist. I wasn't sure if three years old was too young for therapy, but losing her mother and then being abandoned by her father six months later was a lot for anyone to handle.
Alice and I would love Petra, give her security and attention. Keep her safe. But at the end of the day, I didn't think either of us was equipped to give her the tools she’d need to process losing both of her parents. Especially when one of those parents had abandoned her voluntarily.
I was under no illusion that my father would show up when she got older, interested in being her parent. He'd objected to the idea of working with the FBI, but he hadn't put up a fight over terminating his parental rights.
Watching Petra as she shifted restlessly under the covers, her lashes dark fans across cheeks flushed with sleep, I couldn't understand. How could he just walk away from his own kid? I knew she was going to turn our lives upside down. I wasn’t sure I was ready for it, but this was life. It wasn’t always easy, but that wasn’t going to stop me from doing the right thing.
I wouldn't waste any more of my morning wondering what the fuck was wrong with my father. He was going to eat up enough of my day once Agent Holley showed up to negotiate the terms that would keep Maxwell out of jail.
I’d think about Maxwell later. Instead, I went to my closet, surveying the neatly arranged space to figure out how to make room for Alice. It wouldn’t be hard. While I had a more than adequate wardrobe, I'm not into clothes. I have what I need, maybe a little extra, but not enough to fill the entire closet. Not even close.
I rearranged things, emptying drawers, finally using the empty baskets my decorator had added when I moved in and consolidating my suits and shirts to free up hanging space.
Alice had a lot of dresses. She probably thought I didn't know how many, but I had a good idea. And those crinolines… She'd need room.
I'd made decent progress by the time Petra woke up, padding into the closet in her cartoon nightgown, her bare feet peeping out beneath the hem, eyes bleary.
She walked to my side, pulled on my T-shirt, and raised her arms, bunny clutched in one hand. “Up, Coop. Up.”
I lifted her, and she lay her head on my shoulder. Coop. Fuck, the sound of my name in her clear, light voice. I’d heard her call Alice ‘Lis, but so far she hadn’t said my name.
Damn. I was proud, like I'd had anything to do with it. I guess proud that I got in there enough for her to call me by name. Petra wasn't exactly a talker. I had no idea how much of a vocabulary was normal for a three-year-old. Maybe it depended on the kid, but every word she said was precious.
“Breakfast?”
That sweet smile. She patted my chest with the flat of her hand bouncing a little on my arm. “Beffast, beffast!”
Lily was an angel for going shopping with Alice. She’d dropped hints as they went on the best ways to handle this and that, gleaned from her years in the trenches with Adam. Thanks to her, I knew to give Petra a handful of cereal to munch on after I put her in the high chair and rolled her into the kitchen where she could watch me while I cooked.
She devoured the cereal, then another handful, pretending to feed every other piece to bunny before popping it in her mouth. It was probably weird, but I almost hoped she turned into a pickier eater when she relaxed with us. I didn't like the idea that she'd been hungry with my dad. Didn't like the idea he hadn't been taking care of her.
My brothers and I may not have gotten the attention we’d needed, but our material needs had always been covered. A nice place to live, great education, food in our stomachs. Far more than the basics. Petra had barely had clothes and she attacked every meal like it would be her last.
I pushed back the rising tide of rage at my father. Not the time, I reminded myself. Get through the next few days, help the FBI nail Tsepov, and Maxwell will walk away, Lacey along with him. Then life could go back to normal.
Or, rather, Alice, Petra, and I would find a new normal. I was making Petra scrambled eggs to go with the cinnamon raisin toast I'd
already put on her tray when the front door opened and Alice walked in, carrying a duffel bag.
In a light blue and white polka dot dress with a boat neck that showed her collarbones and slender neck, she looked almost like the Alice I was used to seeing at work, right down the hint of white crinoline beneath her full skirt. Her hair was a sleek dark fall to just below her chin, but her lips were bare of color, and she was barefoot.
I love the way Alice looks when she’s fully turned out for work, but I found I loved this half-finished Alice even more. This was the secret Alice, an Alice only I got to see.
“I'm just going to go put this stuff away. I left some other bags by my door for later. Be right back.”
“Take your time, we’re good.”
She turned and her skirt flared, showing her knees and a flash of frothy white under her skirt. My cock came to life. When was the next time I’d get her to myself? Better not ask that. I might not like the answer.
Alice was back a few minutes later.
Still barefoot and without lipstick, she helped herself to a cup of coffee and came to join us at the breakfast counter where I'd wheeled Petra's high chair so we could both eat.
“I made you a plate,” I said.
“I see that.” She stood beside me, nuzzling my neck for a long blissful moment. “Thanks for making me room in the closet.”
“Anytime. Let me know if it isn’t enough.”
“You know I will.” She laughed and straightened, climbing onto her own bar stool. “Did Petra eat breakfast?”
“And then some.” We shared a look of concern.
“You want more toast?” I asked Petra, who nodded and said something I thought might be toast. Or roast. Or ghost. Or maybe nothing. I stood, carrying my dirty plate and put it in the sink, grabbing the plate I’d put together for Alice. “Ready for your eggs?”
“Thanks, I’m starving.”
I added two slices of cinnamon raisin bread to the toaster before getting Alice her eggs. “I can handle her toast if you want to go take a shower.”
“I was just about to ask. I won’t be long.”
I can't describe the ridiculous sense of satisfaction I got from walking into my closet after a quick shower to see a row of Alice's brightly-colored dresses hung beside my suits.
It’s possible I felt the prickle of tears behind my eyes. I'd wanted this exact thing for so long. Now, here she was, moving in with me. More than that, more than just moving in, I'd been hit with something life-changing, and Alice stuck.
I didn’t have any illusions. It was one thing when I was on my own. Now I was a package deal, a ready-made family. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she decided to back off. But she hadn’t; she’d brought up a load of dresses and hung them in the closet.
Lost in satisfied thoughts about my life finally coming together, I spent a minute too long getting dressed. I emerged from my room to hear shouts coming down the hall.
Not Alice. Not Petra. My fucking mother.
I really wanted to go with that whole thing of honoring your mother, but Lacey was making it pretty goddamn hard. I sprinted down the hall to find them at the front door, Lacey with her foot over the threshold, pushing her way in, yelling my name.
“Cooper! Cooper!” And then shoving at Alice, almost growling, “Get your hands off me!” Alice spared me a quick glance of apology.
“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have opened the door. She just, I thought—” Alice changed her grip on my mother's arms, pushing her wrists above her head, shoving her off balance enough that Lacey couldn't kick her shins anymore. “For some insane reason, I thought she'd behave if I told her you'd be out in a minute.”
“Cooper, where the hell have you been? Tell this slu—”
“Not another word. I thought I made it clear what would happen if you talked about Alice like that. Don't fucking test me.”
Lacey gave me a wounded look, dropping her arms and seeming to shrink into herself. Alice let out a sigh of annoyance and stepped back now that Lacey had stopped fighting her.
Shit, my mother had her act down to perfection. How could she go from a raging lunatic to this wounded, fragile woman in the blink of an eye?
“It's just that you have us locked up in there,” she sobbed, crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks. “You won't even come see us. Your father is beside himself. He's getting older, you know, you can't let him handle this on his own. You can't just throw him to the FBI and expect them to look out for him. They want to throw him in jail, Cooper.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That's because he broke the law, Mom. A lot. I have a feeling he's going to be serving time one way or another, but if you don't want it to be for the rest of his natural life, you should be encouraging him to work with the FBI.”
As usual, my mother ignored what I'd said and went on with her rant. “You have to stop this. Call that Agent Holley and tell him he can't come today. Tell him that we'll figure something else out. Or just let us go. Maxwell and I will leave. If you don't have us, the FBI can't use us to get Andrei.”
“Andrei, is it?” A horrifying thought occurred to me. “Andrei? Mom? How involved are you with Dad's business? Maybe Dad's not the reason you don't want this meeting with the FBI, huh? Maybe you're just watching out for your own ass.”
She drew back, splaying her fingers across her chest, the perfect picture of refined affront. “Oh, Cooper! How could you say such a thing to me? I am your mother.”
Fed up, I rolled my eyes at Alice. “That's what she says every time I don't tell her what she wants to hear.”
Alice's eyes met mine, and I could practically feel her straining not to look back toward the kitchen. To Petra.
Shit, for a second, I'd forgotten. Petra was in the kitchen. We had to get rid of my mother. I wasn't going to hide Petra from her forever, but this didn't seem like the ideal moment to reveal that we had my father’s love child stashed in our apartment.
My mother pulled herself together, sensing that outrage and plaintive entreaty weren't going to work. She moved on to calm reason. This was a new look for her. I would have liked it if I hadn’t known she was trying to manipulate me.
“Cooper, surely you can't think I'd be involved with your father's dirty business. I understand that you want this situation cleared up, but your father can handle it. The FBI is only going to make everything more complicated. If you don't want to openly let us go, just distract the guards for a little while. Put them on something else and we’ll slip away. It won't be your fault, and we can go solve this problem ourselves.”
“It would be my fault. I'm not going to lie to the FBI, Mom. You need to turn around and go back downstairs. Tell Dad your little ploy didn't work, and I'll have him escorted to the conference room at ten forty-five. Agent Holley will be here at eleven.”
“Cooper—” she tried again.
Alice had had enough. “Mrs. Sinclair, do you realize that if Maxwell runs out on the FBI Agent Holley will probably press charges against your sons as accessories? Maxwell left them on the hook by using the company, and Agent Holley has all the evidence he needs. Do you even care about that? Because you should. We’re talking about your children. They’ll lose everything they’ve worked for. How can you not understand that?”
My mother said nothing, setting her jaw and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at Alice. At least she'd paid attention to my warnings about Alice. Not that I expected it to last. That would be too good to be true.
“Fine. Your father is not going to be happy, but I’ll go down there and try to explain to him how his sons want to send him to prison—”
A high-pitched cry of distress echoed from the kitchen. All three of us froze.
Another cry and Alice whirled on her bare foot and took off, Lacey hot on her heels. I followed them both, cursing my mother for hanging around a second too long.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cooper
I caught up to them to see Alice handing bunny back to a crying Petra. My mother stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at Petra with a combination of horror and revulsion.
“What is this? You have a child with this…this…this…woman?” Lacey struggled mightily to hold back the word she wanted to call Alice, but the way she said woman was more epithet than anything else.
Alice unbuckled Petra and pulled her out of the high chair, holding her tight, the bunny sandwiched between them. She turned, hiding Petra from sight. My mother’s face was growing increasingly red, her eyes wide as she shook with indignation and rage.
We saw the eruption coming and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
“You fucking whore. I told you to stay away from my son. I'm going to make you pay—”
Petra started to wail, set off by the vitriol in my mother's tone as her shouts filled the room. Clinging to Alice, Petra sobbed, “Daddy. Daddy. Where Daddy? Where Daddy?”
Unable to stand her panicked distress, I crossed the room to take Petra from Alice. My little sister burrowed her head into my neck, clutching the front of my shirt, still crying, “Where Daddy? Where Daddy?”
In that moment, I would have gladly killed both my parents. Lacey for setting her off and Maxwell for walking out and leaving her confused and abandoned.
Lacey fell silent, her brain trying to process through the cocktails she’d probably consumed with breakfast, but finally, she ended up in the right place.
When she spoke, her voice was hard as stone. “She's not yours, is she?”
“She is now,” I said, cradling Petra against me, rubbing her back to soothe her sobs. “That's all you need to know. She's mine now. Mine and Alice’s.”
“Is this why you’ve turned on your father? You want him out of the way so you can claim her? I don’t understand why you’d even want her. If you have to have a child, you can't take your father's leavings. For God’s sake, think about how it will look! Just get rid of her, and your father and I will leave. Everything can go back to normal. That's your only option.”
