Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance

by River Laurent

  I frown with surprise. “Of course, you will.”

  She sniffs. “Are you sure?”

  “What makes you think you won’t?” I ask curiously.

  “Because,” she pauses to wipe her nose. “I know Juan doesn’t like me. He told Mommy he wants her to have his child. Then it would be just theirs.”

  “Oh, honey,” I whisper, and wrap her small body in my arms. I want to fucking kill Regina and her stupid boyfriend. “Your mommy is always going to your mommy, okay? Nobody and nothing can change that, do you hear me? Your mommy needs to go to Europe for a bit so I asked her if I could take care of you and she said yes.”

  She moves and stares at me with big eyes. “You did?”

  “Of course.”

  “But Mommy said, you didn’t want me because you were too busy in the office.”

  Jesus Christ, I swear I could cheerfully wring Regina’s neck. “I think Mommy might have misunderstood. I’ve never said that. I always wanted you to live with me, but until recently, you were too young to come and stay with me so the Judge decided that you should stay with Mommy until you were old enough. Now that you are old enough and Mommy is going to be busy in Europe for a few months, we decided that you should come stay with me. If things work out and you like living here, then you can even stay here with me. Is that okay with you?”

  She smiles shyly then nods.

  “Good. The thing is, I’m not really prepared. Mommy and I were thinking that you would be coming in a couple of weeks, but as it turns out you’ve arrived early and while that makes me super happy, I am not really prepared. I have an emergency at the office and I don’t have the apartment ready for you yet, so will you forgive Daddy if everything is not exactly the way it should be for the next few days?”

  She stares at me. “What do you have to do to prepare, Daddy?’

  “Well, loads of things. I mean, your room is not even painted yet.” I grin at her. “Which, maybe that is a good thing, because now you get to pick out your own favorite color.”

  She smiles, that impish smile that I haven’t seen for ages. Come to think of it, every time I’ve spoken to her on Skype, Regina was always hovering in the background and Maddie always seemed a bit distracted and distant.

  “Can I have more than one color, Daddy?”

  I grin. “It’s your room, so you can have as many colors as you want.”

  Her eyes grow as big as saucers. “Really?”

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug. “What colors were you thinking of?”

  She starts ticking the colors off on her fingers. “Red, blue, yellow, purple, and green. Oh, and pink.”

  My eyes widen, then I chuckle at her excitement. “Oh, wow.”

  She nods solemnly. “I’ve got a unicorn and I want him to be comfortable in my room.”

  I nod. “Okay. The thing is I’m really, really busy for the next few days, so I won’t be able to get your room organized that fast.”

  She claps her hands “I know what. I can camp out here with you. All I need is a tent.”

  I stare at her. My daughter never fails to amaze me. “You want to live in a tent in my office?”

  Her eyes shine. “Can I?”

  I rub my jaw. It would be a terrible, terrible thing to do and yet, it would be the fucking perfect solution until I can get a Nanny sorted out, and I can figure out how to solve my problems at work.

  “Please say, yes, Daddy. Please. Please. Please?” she begs.

  My parents would have had a heart attack. My staff will think I’ve gone mad. If Regina finds out, she might try to take back custody of Maddie back. I run my hands through my hair.

  “Please, Daddy?”

  Fuck it. So what if it isn’t the norm? At least this way, I’ll have her with me. I smile. “All right, just until I get a Nanny for you and do up your room, okay?”

  “Yah, Yah, Yah,” she sings happily.

  Erica comes in. “Do you want me to get anything for you, or Madison, Mr. Cage?”

  “Yeah. I need you to go get some stuff. We’ll need blankets, pillows, lots of toys, one of those multicolored Princess tents.” I look at my daughter. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Ice cream,” Maddie pipes up immediately.

  I wink at her then turn back to Erica’s dumbfounded expression, and add, “A small freezer for the ice cream and a lot of fluids, including milk.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Find out if everybody in the office has already had chicken pox.”

  Lincoln

  It surprises me how independent Maddie is. The kid effortlessly amuses herself for hours while I meet with my tech team. There’s just no way around it. My company is going to the wall and damn me, if I don’t do everything in my power to avert that.

  We have dinner together, which is quite frankly, the highlight of my day from hell, but every time my phone rings, and I have to take the call, she just quietly continues with her meal while I’m on the phone. I don’t know whether to be impressed, or saddened by her maturity. When we get back to the office, I offer to read her a bedtime story.

  “Daddy, I can read, you know,” she explains with world-weary patience.

  “I know you can, but sometimes, it’s really nice when someone else reads for you.”

  She thinks about it. “Okay,” she says, grinning up at me.

  I smile back at her, but it troubles me that she has missed out on so much. How could I have been so caught up with work that I know almost nothing about her upbringing? I’m going to have to buy more clothes for her too. Her suitcase is full of designer party dresses. Not a single pair of jeans in sight. It’s enough to make me wonder what my daughter’s life has been like for the last two years.

  You could’ve found out for yourself.

  The nagging, knowing voice in the back of my head isn’t going to lie down and let me get away with anything today. It is true I could’ve pushed to be a bigger part of her life. Even if I didn’t have shared custody—a blow that took a long time to get over—I should’ve pressed for more visitation. A few times a year, plus a little time around her birthday and the holidays wasn’t nearly enough.

  Obviously, since I know so little about her life.

  We go back to my office that now looks like a giant playroom. Erica found a pink princess castle tent with turrets. She also bought a blow-up dragon, and a whole load of toys and books.

  Maddie changes into her pajamas and brushes her teeth in my bathroom. She asks me to plait her hair for her.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because it will be a horrendous mess when I wake up and Mommy says I have to have my hair in braids. Christina always makes two braids.”

  “Right,” I say taking the brush from her hand. I try very hard, but braiding hair is more complicated than it seems at first.

  “Are you finished, Daddy?” she asks for the tenth time.

  “Never mind. We’ll deal with the mess in the morning,” I say, swallowing my frustration. I will have to get someone to teach me. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. What story do you want?”

  “Can we read The Little Mermaid please?” she asks politely, as she settles into the sweet smelling, freshly laundered blankets.

  I’ll have to remember to give Erica a bonus this month. She went out of her way to make sure that my sick little girl has everything she could possibly need. “Of course.” I climb into the tent and using a flashlight, I read her book to her.

  Poor child, she is so exhausted she falls asleep halfway through the book.

  Gently, I kiss her spotty cheek and holding my breath, I carefully slide out of her tent.

  I stand and look down at her. Something tugs at my heart. My child is asleep on my office floor, instead of in a bedroom in my apartment. That’s where she should be, permanently. And will be. As soon as I sort out my business. She deserves better than this, damn it.

  I have to get my mind back on work. Two weeks. Two weeks until the conference launch. The thought
of it makes me feel sick. Though, that could be the stress. Or just plain ole seething rage. It consumes me every time I remember Weissman’s arrogant, taunting smile as he passed me by last night.

  I run my hands through my hair as the adrenaline in my blood spikes. I can’t let it take over again. I’ll end up collapsing and my business—not to mention the little girl in the next room—need me badly. He thinks he’s got me. Well, he hasn’t. I gear myself up for a long, long night. What I need is an energy drink. I tiptoe out of my office to get one of the cans Erica stocks the fridge with.

  My hand lingers on the doorknob as I turn back to look at the tent. I’m only going to be seconds. But what if she wakes up and finds herself in a strange place? She could go into panic mode and I wouldn’t hear her. All the walls are soundproof. With good reason. Before today, my ultimate priority in this place was confidentiality. A lot of good that did me. I leave the door open, grab a can, and go back into my office.

  All is quiet in the tent.

  I collapse into the chair behind my desk and realize I’m sitting on my suit jacket, but I can’t bring myself to care. My eyes itch with fatigue and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this drained. Not when I ran in that half-marathon at school, not when I was working overnight to put myself through college. Not even when Maddie was a newborn and she used to scream all night with colic and nothing worked, not gripe water, not anything, except being swaddled tightly in a blanket and bounced on my knees for hours. Every time I thought she’d finally fallen asleep and tried to put her down, the ear-piercing screaming would begin all over again.

  Of course, Regina always claimed she suffered from postpartum depression and needed her sleep, so it was all up to me. For nearly five months, I did the night shift. Even then, when I would stumble into work with eyes that burned out from exhaustion and lack of sleep, I didn’t feel nearly as wrung-out as I do now.

  My head is killing me. No wonder I can’t focus on anything. I throw a handful of the aspirin down my throat and take a gulp of my drink. That should help. I close my eyes and lean back for a few minutes. There is a quiet sigh from the tent and my eyes snap open.

  She is sucking her thumb in her sleep.

  I remember her unhappy little face this morning, when her mother abandoned her in my waiting room. How many times has she been passed around over the two years during the time she’s been in her mother’s care? How many people have actually truly cared for her?

  Regina’s high and mighty parents? No fucking way. They wouldn’t know what care meant if it sat up and bit them in the ass. They hated me. Even though I’d already made a name for myself in the tech world by the time I married Regina, and they couldn’t quite get away with accusing me of marrying their daughter for their money, they never stopped dropping sly hints.

  Maddie’s days of being passed around are over.

  I’ll hire a nanny, but I don’t plan on palming my kid off on anybody else. She deserves a happy life. The sort of parent who would hang her artwork on the fridge and attend all of her little school shows. Do schools still do that? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never attended anything, since Regina cut me off from all knowledge of my child’s life.

  Still not her fault. I could’ve pushed back, if I wasn’t so fucking focused on my business. Well, I’ve got my priorities in order now.

  I peer into the dim of the tent entrance. Her curly hair is like a brown cloud around her head. At least the itching has stopped now that she’s asleep. She’s like a little angel, so peaceful. My heart has never felt so full. She needs a father with his shit together. I have to be that father.

  “I’m going to do my best for you,” I whisper, still watching her sleep. “I just don’t know what that looks like yet. I need to figure it out. So you might have to be a little patient with me while I get it together. I’ve been alone for a long time. I need to adjust.”

  I turn and catch my reflection in the glass windows. It’s nearly ten o’clock and the glass is a mirror. There I am…a guy who looks like he’s been dragged backwards through a thorn bush. I barely recognize myself. My hair is in complete disarray from running my hands through it all day, my shirt is rumpled from sliding around in the tent, and my collar is wide open. Only the devil knows where I left my tie.

  I look away. I need to get my head on straight. Prioritize. Take advantage of the fact that Maddie is asleep and get some work done. I still have hours of work to do.

  I sure as hell can’t let the night escape me. I’m fighting for all I’ve worked for now. I open my emails and skim the subject lines, my eyes burning.

  Samantha

  “Okay. This is it. This one’s for all the marbles.” I stop, cocking my head to the side. There’s nobody around to hear me at this time of night. I’m talking to myself again. Very worrying.

  With my pen poised over the clipboard, I hit the start button on the video camera, then the green square on the computer screen.

  “Here goes. Attempt one thousand at running the drone without the battery overheating.”

  I watch the drone fly in circles two feet below the ceiling. The minutes tick away. Twenty-five seconds to go before we hit the threshold where the temperature has always spiked and fried the circuits.

  “Come on, baby. Come on. You can do this. Just stay cool. Stay cool.” I’m chewing my lip hard enough for it to hurt as my eyes keep darting back and forth from the hovering drone to the clock. The seventh minute mark hits and I hold my breath.

  Please, please, please….

  The first sizzle tells me it’s over and my heart sinks as fast as the drone. It hits the metal table with a sickening sound. The familiar smell of burning fills the room.

  “Son of a bitch!” I groan, slamming the clipboard down. Nervous energy makes me pace the floor like a caged animal before I drop into a chair and stare at the ceiling. I’ve tried every tweak I can think of.

  I drop my head into my hands and closing my eyes, hold it for a minute. What am I supposed to do now? A sense of hopelessness settles over me. It’s been weeks I’ve been trying to tackle this issue and I’m not any further ahead than I was on day one. To top it all, the big cheese has sent down a missive through Ryland, my immediate boss— the drone has to be ready to be shown to the public in two weeks!

  The air in Ryland’s office turned blue when he gave me that juicy bit of information.

  “What am I missing?” I mutter, springing up and walking to the table where all the stats are spread out. Two weeks until we go to demo and I have no idea how to stop this drone from crashing and burning in less than seven minutes. I switch on the extractor fans and go back over the data from the last ten tests. There has to be something I’m missing. I bet it’ll end up being the stupidest possible oversight, too. I must be overthinking it. I must be.

  I roll my head on my neck to work out the kinks. My jaw hurts. I’ve been clenching my teeth for most of the day. That’s what I do when I’m stressed out. I rub my fingertips along the hinge of my jaw. Is it called a hinge? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, evidently. According to some people, I never have.

  What would my Dad think if he saw me standing here, floundering, giving myself a jaw massage? That he was right. As always. The jerk. My jaw tightens again and I know I shouldn’t think about him if I want to think straight.

  Click.

  I jump at the familiar, but unexpected, sound of the security locks behind me. Who else is here at nearly midnight? I thought I was the only crazy one. Must be Ryland. I turn around. Of course, it is. I’m glad he’s here. If anybody will understand the frustration plaguing me, it’s him.

  “Ryland?” I say, dropping into the big leather chair behind the table. “You’re still here?”

  “You certainly are perceptive,” he says dryly. Perching on the edge of my desk, he loosens the tie I can’t believe he’s still wearing at this time of night.

  I lean back in the chair until I’m practically reclined and heave a sigh. “You really should talk to
your boss about the hours he expects you to keep.”

  He shrugs. “Well, he expects it of himself too.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m surprised. He’s sort of a dick.”

  His wince tells me I’ve gone too far. “Now, now. Your personal problems with Lincoln are no concern of mine. We’ve discussed this before.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just tired and frustrated. I don’t even know the guy. I guess arrogant bullies just rub me up the wrong way.”

  “That’s right. You don’t know him. He’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a slave driver, but look at what he’s built with his bare hands.” He leans forward with the cocky smile I’ve learned to like. “And he signs your paychecks.”

  “He does not. I get direct deposit.”

  “Same difference.” His attention falls on the drone, still sitting where it crashed on the table. He scowls and looks at me sideways. “Still checking out at seven minutes, huh?”

  “Afraid so,” I mutter, and start massaging my jaw again, as stress threatens to overtake me.

  “If there’s anybody who can figure this out, I know it’s you. I wouldn’t have handed this project to you if I didn’t have ultimate faith in you.”

  “You’re doing it, you know.”

  “Doing what?”

  I throw a withering look his way that he knows has absolutely no bite to it. “Telling me what you think I want to hear, so you can squeeze more and more work out of me. Bolstering my confidence, so I’ll have the big breakthrough which reflects well on you.”

  He throws back his head and laughs, reminding me once again, why of the two of them, I prefer him over his best friend, and the Big Guy. Bossman. The one that everyone is soooooo in awe of. I have a few other names for him, but I know better than to let them fly in front of Ryland. How could two men practically grow up together but end up so vastly different?

  “As much as it tickles me to think of your work reflecting well on me, you would do well to remember that it’s your position in the company which sort of hinges on this. That is to say, your upward mobility. Not to mention that lovely bonus waiting for you.”