by Snow, Nicole
Isn’t this liquid fuckery part of what got me in this mess?
Sighing, I toss the booze in the sink and glug down a large glass of water from the faucet before calling Susan.
“Nicholas, hello. To what do I owe this late-night phone call?” she asks, a polite way of saying who did you murder to justify calling me this late?
“I need help. Can you get the C-level team a temporary driver for tomorrow and preferably a few more days?”
“What happened to Reese Halle?” she asks immediately.
I swallow a groan.
“She’s had a family emergency. A rather serious one. I told her she could take paid vacation. How much does she have?”
Susan sniffs. “I can’t tell you that without her permission.”
“No worries. If she runs out of PTO before she’s back, let me know,” I say sharply.
“Of course. I have to ask...is Miss Halle okay?”
My eyes pinch shut a second too long. People keep asking me that and it’s a fair question. Truthfully, I don’t fucking know.
I hope so. I need to find out. And if she’s not, I need to make her okay again.
“Yes,” I say, a little too slowly.
“Did someone die?” Susan asks quickly.
“No, nothing like that. More like a personal crisis. Frankly, it’s probably better to ask her about it when she gets back. We just need a driver until she returns, and in the meantime, it’s my job to make sure she’s taken care of.”
“Hmm, well, informally I believe she has a little over two weeks of paid vacation banked. She’s only been here just over a year, but she doesn’t take many days off. If it looks like she’s running thin on PTO before she’s back in the office, I’ll certainly let you know.”
“Thank you.”
I cut the call and stalk over to my fridge, desperately looking for something to sip that won’t invite more trouble.
A couple bright cartons of Florida orange juice stare back at me.
Radioactive OJ it is, then.
Three glasses and an antacid later, I lie in bed alone, staring out at the Chicago skyline stretched across the window. Buildings rise wild like blades of silver and blinking tinsel-gold lights. It’s a beautiful, cool night and this is a comfortable bed. I’m cocooned in a world of comfort and luxury the average person would die for.
In theory, I should be grateful.
I’m not.
This is how I always end up, sooner or later.
Alone. Frustrated. Waiting for the next disaster.
Before, I didn’t mind it, because the next day always offered a new escape and my worries always seemed to work themselves out.
Now, I realize I’m trapped, slowly being pulled under a riptide of menacing comfort. I’ve fucked up too much. I can’t escape my past, and who would ever want to share my reputation?
Brandt Dreams could easily go belly up, too, no matter how much elbow grease I throw into it.
Ward inherited the diehard trust our people had for Grandma. They turn to him first.
Since I’m the head honcho at Dreams, my brother isn’t there to back me up, much less lift morale. It’s entirely on my shoulders, and even if I make it my world to hold up, it’s impossible not to slip with assholes like Carmen and Roland Osprey tossing banana peels in my path.
Fuck. I wish I hadn’t tossed that brandy tonight.
I stare at the skyline for who knows how long, hypnotized by the dream of better lives happening behind those tiny, distant windows strewn across the city.
At some point, I must fall asleep with my phone by my ear, because I wake to a deafening notification sound. Probably Roland Osprey still hounding me.
I jerk up with a groan and look at the screen.
That’s Reese’s number. I hit open faster than I should.
Just confirming I can’t come to work today. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be back ASAP. Probably tomorrow.
Without thinking, I start typing. Don’t come back tomorrow, Reese. Deal with this shit and don’t worry about anything else. Did the lawyer get in touch yet? If not, I’ll find you another one. How’s Millie?
Before hitting send, I hesitate.
Ten seconds later, I delete the entire thing.
Telling her not to come in tomorrow will just upset her more. So will badgering her over using my legal resources.
She’s got enough on her plate. She’s ferociously independent. I don’t want to be responsible for making her day worse at the ass crack of dawn or making her feel that much more helpless.
I soften what I actually send.
Just let me know the plan for tomorrow, whenever you’re able. Is the attorney working out? Let me know.
A reply comes back quickly in two messages.
Thanks, Nick. Millie is a handful. Thank you for the car seat...I’m going to pay you back at some point but it wasn’t a bad idea. At least I’m not stranded this way.
Oh, and again...thank you for everything. I should be back soon. Really.
It’s just words on a screen. But even from plain white letters in a cloud of blue, I can tell she’s upset. Scared.
I wish I could do more.
No problem, I type back. Am I still Nick the Prick?
...you’re a work in progress. I’ll let you know. She adds a devil emoji to the end of that sentence, damn her.
At least she’s honest.
In fairness, work in progress might be the nicest way anyone’s described me in a long time.
If the other texts from Mr. Birdshit are true, I know what I’ll always be, in her eyes and everybody else’s.
Whatever. Only one way to make sure that doesn’t happen, even if it seems goddamned hopeless.
I unglue myself from the bed and face the day.
* * *
Half a day later, there’s a knock on my office door.
“It’s open,” I call out, hoping for Reese, as unlikely as it seems.
Paige Brandt strolls in, combing a hand through her blond hair. “Ward says a lot of packages are piling up outside his office with your name on them. What should I do with them?”
I scowl, loving how hard it is to keep secrets around here—especially when too many of our mail people assume anything big and important goes to the wrong Brandt.
“Thanks for letting me know, for one. Since you don’t work here anymore, I’ll move them.”
“Ah-ah,” Paige says, urging me to stay sitting with a flick of her hand. “Just because I’m running my own art studio doesn’t mean I’m above moving a few boxes, Nick.”
I smile.
“If you insist, take them to Grandma’s office, please.” I stand. “Actually, a couple of them might be pretty heavy. Leave those for me.”
“All right.” She doesn’t turn to leave. She stands and stares at me like she’s expecting more, a bright pain in the ass that reminds me why she’s a perfect fit for Ward.
“Something else?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Can I ask why you’ve got a whole stack of packages coming here?”
“Oh—they’re for the office.” I tell her. “I probably didn’t follow protocol, but whatever. It’s stuff I didn’t even think about needing until this morning. But if it makes a difference, I paid for them, not the company.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Having been an assistant, I feel for whoever’s signing for them. In a building with this many people in it, it’s a security issue to accept random packages taller than a person. Also...you’re not going to tell me what’s up, are you?”
“I’ll make sure you know the next time,” I say, conveniently ignoring that last question. “Please don’t encourage Ward.”
She sighs and heads out the door. I follow her over to the EA’s desk outside Ward’s office, where a Christmas-like stack of tall boxes has formed since morning.
Only the loft bed weighs a ton.
I cart everything to Grandma’s vacant office and decide it’s best to start with the loft. The place look
s like it did the day she left—a green space of vines and glassy modern magnificence no one had the heart to claim once she retired.
Nudging a few chairs around, there’s just enough space to set up everything I need.
I’ll start with the big stuff first. It takes me the better part of an hour, cursing and flipping off the horribly written instruction sheet several times.
Bit by bit, the bed comes together. I just have the slide left to attach when Ward comes in, slamming the door behind him. There’s an icy pause before I turn around.
“What the hell are you building in here? An amusement park?” he growls, taking a stride forward.
I hold out a hand.
“Perfect timing. Stay there for a minute. You can help me set this thing straight and slide it over the desk after I screw the slide in.”
“The slide?” His dark eyebrows flick up. He doesn’t berate me, though, just leans against the wall and watches me secure the last screw before saying, “That looks like a badass bed. I’ll give you that.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Just wondering why in God’s name Grandma’s old office needs a bed with a slide,” he spits, shaking his head.
“I needed something that would fit in here without messing with Grandma’s old desk since we’ve decided it’s basically a museum piece,” I throw back. “A kid needs a way up and down. All lofts have steps, but the slide seemed like a quicker way down. More fun, too.”
“Lovely. I wonder what the liability is if a child skids down a loft in our office and busts their head open.” He glares at me with that familiar you idiot look I’ve seen ten thousand times.
I frown, studying my handiwork. “You have a point. Guess I’ll order some gym mats to put under it or modify this slide for extra safety...”
“You sure like this kid,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Don’t tell me. You found out one of those one-night stands made you a father, didn’t you?”
I don’t respond to that with more than a fuck-you glare.
I’m not attached to Millie. I’ve barely even met her. I just wouldn’t want any kid getting a broken bone having fun, especially from something I assembled.
“Did Paige order you here to solve the package mystery?” I ask.
“Paige knows about this?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to start anything between them.
“Not really. She just asked about my packages when they started piling up closer to your office. I thought maybe she sent you to find out—”
“Hardly,” he clips. “I don’t need my wife to send me in like a charging Marine when all that banging around was reason enough. You’re lucky the evening crew left. But if you had a kid, we would know about it, right? You’re not that insane?”
Fuck, he’s serious.
If my own brother has to ask me that, maybe it’s truly too late to evolve beyond Nick the Prick.
“Nah. I’d keep it secret until the kid’s a teenager so they’re well-prepared to deal with their dick of an uncle,” I snarl, tossing the screwdriver at his feet. “Come help while you’re here. We just need a little muscle to turn it, then slide it against the wall.”
“One condition,” Ward says as he takes one side of the bed. “Tell me what kid’s worth uprooting Grandma’s old office.”
I take the other side.
“Reese’s. She’s going to have custody of her niece for a while, and she’ll need help. I’m not having her go bankrupt paying Chicago daycare fees.”
“Wait. You want her kid hanging out here?” His eyes flash like lightning, a shade brighter blue than my sea-green.
“I’ll hire a nanny. I’ve thought this through,” I say sternly.
“How old is she?” he asks.
“Four, I think.”
“I see you’ve made an executive decision.” He nods. “And you’ve decided we provide on-site childcare, huh?”
“I’ll pay for it, Ward. I’ll accept full responsibility for any and all complications, not that I’m expecting any. Don’t worry about it cutting into your profits...or your damn bear cave of workaholic secrets.”
“I don’t care about that. I just want to know what it is you’re not telling me.”
“Nothing, besides keeping details of Reese’s personal life mum without her permission to throw them around. This also makes the most sense, keeping the kid at the office. She can do her job in peace and grab the girl at the end of the day without another ride through traffic.”
“Are you sure that’s it?” he asks quietly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the way your mouth hit the floor the first time you saw her face? Back when you realized she wasn’t a fucking man?”
Before I can fire back, he holds up his hand, palm out like an apology.
“I’m not criticizing. Not much. But if there’s more to this than you’re saying...I’m your brother. Tell me.”
I nod, surprised he’s letting up on his dickery. “You remember when Grandma was in the hospital?”
“How could I forget?”
“Paige saved her life and took on a mountain of extra work. She picked up the slack so we could be there without worrying about the office going up in flames,” I tell him.
“My wife’s nothing less than amazing.” He smiles, a far-off look in his eyes.
“She is. However, somebody else stepped up that week. Reese drove all over the known universe anytime we needed it. She made late-night hops to the hospital and early morning coffee runs way before her start time. She needs our help now, and if we let her down...you know how hard Grandma would lose it?”
Ward nods, stroking his beard. “So you’re stepping up. I’m sure Reese will be pleased with all the support.” He motions to the other packages. “Do I want to know what’s in these boxes?”
“Stuffies and a rope with giant clothespins. She can grab a stuffie and play whenever she wants to,” I say, a little proud I put so much thought into what I’d enjoy as a kid.
“What the hell’s a stuffie?”
I grin. “It’s what Millie calls her stuffed animals.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You know Reese’s niece that well?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t know.
He looks at the packages and back at me.
“Okay, well, I have to say I’m floored. I’ve hardly seen you take this kind of initiative with anything, and dammit, I’m a little proud of you. But Reese has never been fond of you, right? I’m not sure why you’d volunteer to get so involved. I mean, I have an idea. I’m just worried about how it’ll work out.”
His eyes are narrow, questioning. It’s like he can sense the guilt wafting off me.
Damn him. Time to come clean.
“Ward, I did something stupid while Reese was new—”
“Besides mistaking her for a frat boy, offering to hook her up, and having her escort a half-naked client into his hotel room?”
“Yes,” I force out. “I did something worse, and that’s why she got frosty with me. I’ve always wanted to make it up to her ever since. I think finally we’re on better terms again and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s my chance to un-fuck our relationship—work relationship, obviously,” I add that last part hastily.
Ward blinks at me.
“You did something besides that abysmal introduction? Do I want to know?”
You really don’t, I think to myself.
When he puts it like that, it daggers me even more why she named me Nick the Prick.
“Whatever. It’s none of my business, as long as it’s not a mess for the company,” he snarls, pacing the room before his eyes circle back to me with worry. “I hope this makes up for whatever else you did to that poor woman. You’d better un-fuck things, all right.”
“I will.”
But I also hope I can fix a whole lot more. I don’t want to be anyone’s prick.
If I can smooth over the storm I created with Reese, maybe I can prove to everyone—includi
ng myself—that I’m more than just sex, booze, and bad decisions.
Am I actually more than that, though?
I unpack the stuffie chain and work on hanging it from the ceiling. Ward opens boxes of stuffed animals, chuckling like a big kid himself when he unwraps a few googly-eyed critters.
Paige comes in holding a coffee cup a little later.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” Ward asks, this look I envy crossing his face when he sees his wife.
It’s like all the world’s problems—including the latest grief I’ve given him—melt away as soon as he’s in her presence.
“Whoa! There’s...a slide in Grandma’s office. Do I get to test it?” she says with a giggle.
Ward clips a stuffie to the chain.
“We’re not finding out.” He looks at me. “Someday, you’ll make a great dad.”
“Says the guy clipping pink unicorns to a rope from the ceiling. You’re going to be an amazing father,” Paige says.
He turns to face her, his eyes train on her lips.
“I told you I’m ready...”
She closes the space between them. He brushes her face with his hand and kisses her.
These two are adorably disgusting together.
“Paige, did you need something?” I ask, cutting in before I’m hostage to a make-out session.
She takes a step away from him. “I’m just here to watch the show. You two could be the Property Brothers.”
“I think Nick’s gunning to star in his own show. The Mannie,” Ward says, stabbing a finger at me and grinning like he’s so damn funny.
Idiot.
Paige slurps her coffee. “Netflix is doing a lot of reboots these days! I could see Nick in a Manny reboot.”
I glare at her.
She laughs, jabbing a thumb at my brother. “Sorry. Ward started it, crankyface.”
“Way to throw me under the bus,” he says.
“Well, you did,” she says.
“Will you two get out of here? I need to finish up so I can look for a real nanny,” I growl, folding my arms. “I have my own company to run on top of it, thank you very much. Reese wants to come back to work, and she can’t do it without childcare. I think she needs the distraction. So, if you don’t mind.”
“Nick, are you okay?” Paige asks, giving me a worried look. “Sometimes I think you’re competing to swipe the bossy grump award from Ward.”
