The second floor led to the third and that's where Bitsy and I lived with Carrie. The sound of my key in the door alerted Bitsy that I was home. I opened the door, pushed it open, and swept my arm wide to invite Colt in. Bitsy was standing in the little kitchenette, her hair still tousled from the day. She was getting ready for work and the sight of Colt in our tiny apartment took her by surprise, to say the least. Walking behind me, he came in and stood to one side. I took the opportunity to shut the door and slide off my coat, but he beat me to it. He took my coat and laid it over the back of a chair, removing his own and rubbing his hands together.
"Well, Bitsy, we meet again. It seems I've arrived at an inopportune time. I apologize for that, but it couldn't be helped. Gwenn's car wouldn't start, and I brought her home."
Bitsy was puzzled. "You just happened by when her car wouldn't start?"
That was when it hit me. I turned around slowly, my mouth gaping in amazement. "You. You did it, didn't you?"
He didn't bother to deny it, I had to give him that. "I'm a very determined man when I want something, Gwen. If it means disarming your car for a couple of hours, so be it. It's worth it even if you are mad at me because I'm here now and that's where I want to be."
Bitsy shook her head. "Oh, no, this is where I exit. She grabbed her coat, her purse, and a hairbrush in her hand as she left the apartment. Then it was just Colt, Carrie, and me.
Carrie pulled herself to a stand in the playpen. Drool running from the corner of her mouth signaled the incoming tooth that kept her fussy.
"Well, who have we here?"
"That's Carrie," I said solemnly, framing my next sentence.
Colt walked over to the playpen, bent low and picked Carrie up, putting her on his shoulder. "What a pretty little thing you are. And you look so lonely in that playpen. If I weren’t so heavy, I’d climb in there with you and then we could both play together." He smiled at her and she reached up to pinch the dimple in his cheek. He was much larger than any man she'd seen before, and I was surprised she wasn't afraid. They say children know who to trust, and maybe it was that instinct that made her smile in his company.
"You know, I think she kind of likes me."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. She's like that with everyone." At that exact moment, Carrie burst out in a squall.
"It would seem that she's not like that with everyone, now wouldn't it?" His expression was sardonic and infuriating.
I didn't know what to say, so I sputtered the first thing that came to mind. "That's Bitsy’s daughter, you know. They're staying here with me and we share watching the child. Bitsy has to work at night and of course, daycare is hard to come by. It works for both of us." I walked to the kitchen at, opened the cupboard and pulled two cups out, setting the kettle on the stove to make hot water for tea. "I suppose you will drink a cup with me?"
"Of course. He walked around the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, patting Carrie on the back to calm her. I went toward them, and Carrie’s arms instantly reached out to me. "Mama, Mama," she attempted to say. It was her first words and she been practicing them for the past week.
"Oh, Carrie, honey. You know I'm not your mommy." I took Carrie from him and added, "She gets confused, you know? She has Bitsy during the day and me at night. It's no wonder she doesn't know her mother is."
Cole nodded, his face passive. "Do you sleep here on the sofa?"
"Oh, no, I sleep in the bedroom with Carrie." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd been trapped. He knew very well that Carrie was mine, but he wasn't calling me a liar. There was something about him that kept tugging at my heart. I wanted to think he was such a bully, a demon and a thoughtless man who was just after sex, and yet, time after time, he was proving me wrong. I couldn't put him in the same column as Paul. There were few comparisons between the two. This was confusing, and I didn't know what to say. The entire atmosphere felt awkward to me.
I flushed and handed Carrie back to him as the teakettle began to whistle. Colt looked quite comfortable, playing with Carrie. I soon appeared with two cups of hot tea, put Carrie in her playpen and sat on the sofa next to him.
"So, now, is this it? Your daughter? Is that what you are afraid of people finding out?"
I was frustrated, caught in my lie and feeling questioned at the same time. "Well, of course! Wouldn't you be?"
He shook his head. "Not necessarily, Gwen. You're assuming that I don't have the capacity to care about you if you have a child. Don't you think that's a little judgmental?"
He had a point. "I have to protect her. She's all I have. I'm all she has. It’s not just you, there are the people I work for, too. But, I must admit, it’s mostly you."
"I understand that I really do. But I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that I would never come between you and your child. You and your daughter are a package deal and if I'm pursuing you, that means she's part of you. Do you understand?"
I nodded and sipped my cup. It was hot, and the liquid felt good going down. I knew Carrie was going to begin crying for her bottle at any moment and I hoped she would squall loudly so he would leave. I was uncomfortable in the tiny space that I called home and that wasn't right. I wish I hadn’t made the tea. It suggested that I wanted him to stay and I really didn't.
Chapter 11
Coulter
I'd suspected for some time that the child was behind Gwen's reluctance to have anything to do with me. I'd known about the baby. Bitsy had confessed to Buddy, and he had relayed the news to me. I had known with every instinct that she would be a wonderful mother. Even so, she had seemed so single and available. I supposed it was the close relationship between Bitsy and her that allowed them to coordinate so well. They were both able to live lives as young women, even though there was a child involved. I liked children. I hoped to have some of my own someday.
The baby began to cry, and Gwen put her cup down on the coffee table. "Excuse me, I have to make her bottle and put her down to sleep." I knew she expected me to recognize my cue to leave, but I didn't want to. I'd gone through too much with her to leave now. It was a tender, almost family moment and I wanted to stay, I wanted to be a part of it. So, I watched as she prepared the bottle and carried it along with Carrie into the bedroom. I could hear her humming a lullaby as she changed the baby's clothing. I got up and stood in the doorway, watching her. She kissed the baby fondly on both cheeks and cuddled her against her face before putting the bottle into her mouth and laying her down in the crib. She gently tucked covers up around her and added a little green elephant that waited at the foot of the crib. I studied the crib and then the bed where Gwen slept at night. It was a tiny room and the bed was no bigger than a twin. I wondered how she slept in it, given that she was tall, but I knew that having her daughter close by was more important than her own comfort. Once the baby was happily sucking at the bottle, Gwen turned, and putting a finger to her mouth to silence me, she came toward me and motioned me out the doorway. She pulled the door shut behind herself and looked at me as if to say, are you leaving now?
"I have an idea," I said. "I know a nice little restaurant not too far from here. If you'll allow me, I'd like to call and order some dinner for us. Will you let me do that for you?"
There was a mixed look on her face. I saw the fleeting glance of gratitude that meant she wouldn't have to cook, or maybe she was planning on eating something simple like scrambled eggs and didn't have anything to offer me. On the other hand, she wanted to tell me no, to tell me to go away and leave her in her predicament. She didn't understand me. She might never understand me, but that didn't mean I would stop trying. "What do you say?"
She nodded, and I didn't give her enough time to change her mind. I pulled out my phone and ordered us two steak dinners with all the trimmings. We settled back on the sofa and she flipped on the television using the remote. She settled on a show from National Geographic, something that was neutral and interesting. She kept the sound low and I was grateful for that. I h
ad the idea she wanted to talk it out.
There came a knock at the door and she went to answer it. It was the restaurant. Evidently, someone had let the man in downstairs. The waiter brought in several boxes and looked to Gwen for some indication where he was to lay out the dinner. I saw a fleeting glance of alarm in her eyes and she motioned to the coffee table. There was no dining room. He nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world and cleared away the remote and the short pile of magazines that lay there. With a sweep of his hand, he snapped a white linen tablecloth over the coffee table, tucking it inward so that it looked almost as if it were made for it. He looked at Gwen again and she realized he wanted plates. She pulled two unmatched plates from the cupboard and handed them to him, following those with flatware and paper towels to use as napkins. The waiter set out the various boxes, filling our plates and I had to give him credit: for what he had to work with, he made it look five-star. I tipped him well and he nodded and left quietly. There was a bottle of wine and I lightened the mood by grabbing our empty teacups from the side table where the waiter had set them. I poured some wine and each of the cups and handed one to her. She smiled and gave me a half nod. I knew she understood.
I was famished, so it was very little effort for me to begin eating. She began picking, but soon her nervousness must have dwindled because she picked up her steak knife and began cutting hearty chunks of the meat.
"Bitsy would absolutely kill me if she knew I was having steak," she said with a guilty tone.
"Then, next time I come I will make sure that Bitsy's home and include her. Who knows? Maybe we’ll invite Buddy along."
"Have you forgiven Bitsy for her involvement in that elevator fiasco?" she asked me.
I waved my hand from side to side. "All forgotten," I murmured and sipped the wine. I could feel it coursing through my veins, calming me down. As self-assured as I was, the close call of losing her permanently had me shaking to my knees.
We ate in silence for a while, enjoying the delicious food. The television show fascinated us as we watched a lioness prowling. The announcer was commenting that it was the male’s job to hunt but, in this case, the lioness was left alone with the cubs. "This reminds me of my boss, Metallica," she said conversationally. "She came to the US as a child. Her father worked for the United Nations and eventually, she ended up here in Chicago. She's one tough lady, smart and savvy. I'm learning a lot from her."
"Do you really enjoy your job?"
"I'm lucky to have it," she nodded. "I could be working in fast food."
I nodded in agreement and picked up my teacup of wine. I held it out toward her. "To us," I toasted. She hesitated only a moment but lifted her cup to tap against mine and we both sipped the sweet liquid, thereby sealing our intentions.
"You know, you've never answered me." She put the comment out there and I knew she wanted an answer.
"About?"
"What is it you want from me? Now you know my truth. I'm an unmarried mother with a child and I must work and live in this tiny little apartment with a girlfriend to get by. I'm not in your group, Colt. I don't move in your circles, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to."
"Somewhere along the line, you've got a really bad opinion of people with money. How do you see the world so black-and-white?"
She shrugged. "I didn't use to," she said softly. "Things happen that teach you lessons along the way. I learned one of those lessons."
I let it go. She deserved to have some secrets, but maybe someday she would open enough to share them with me.
Chapter 12
Gwen
I had to give the devil his due. Colt seemed to have a way of seeing through me. He could tell I was holding back, but he was patient, at least to a certain extent. He was completely right. I had run out on him, and that wasn't something he deserved. He'd been nothing but kind to me. I realized then, with a certain amount of shock, that the entire conflict between Colt and myself was my own doing. I was the one with the hasty condemnation, based on someone else entirely. I was the one with headstrong goals that weren’t practical. Worse yet, I had closed off my normally loving, generous, emotional heart to all males in general. In short, I was bitter. How could I set that example for my daughter? How could she ever hope to find a fulfilling, loving relationship with a man when my actions, body language, and disposition told her to stay away? When had I become so judgmental?
These realizations did not come easily to me. In school, things had seemed to always work out in my behalf. I got used to it, assuming that they were testimony to the fact that I was right. How foolish was that? Things also work out for people who are bad and wrong. Paul Romano was such an example. For that matter, take the man who was there beside me at that moment. To my knowledge, he'd never done anything to hurt anyone and yet he was on trial for having done just that. The worst part was, he had been set up and lies were told about him. The judge found him innocent, but society found him guilty. Or, was it only me who found him guilty?
He was watching me and while he couldn't guess as to the extent of what I was thinking, I believe he knew I was being thoughtful. And well I should be. I motioned to the sofa. "Would you sit back down for a few minutes before you leave?" I knew he hadn't mentioned leaving, but there were always certain points in conversation, little milestones where both parties find it polite to express their appreciation and take their leave. This was one of those points, but I decided I didn't want him to go quite yet.
"Sure," he smiled and sat down, extending a hand in my direction to bring me down next to him. How could he be so continually affable when I had treated him so poorly? Now was my time to remedy that.
"I think I may owe you an apology," I said quietly to which he snapped his head and shoulders backward, mocking me with incredulity. "No, no I really mean that. You've pointed out all along that I've made you my enemy and for no good reason. I don't know what it is, maybe your being here and maybe your being around Carrie, but I think you're right. Something happened, and I won't go into details, but it took away the innocence and trust I felt for others. To be very honest, I didn't see it in myself. You were the one who pointed it out. I owe you for that. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You've given more than what’s been fair to me and I haven't given much back if anything." I didn't know what else to say. The words came hard and this surprised me. I'd always been so easy going. Somewhere I had grown hard inside and that made speaking difficult as it always is when you're wrong.
"Thank you for that. I will be very honest with you. I'm not a man who’s been known for his kindness, rather his efficiency and determination."
I laughed. "Determination? No, say it isn't so," I teased him.
"Nevertheless, you opened up a little and I think it is only fair that I open up likewise. So, what I'm admitting to you, is that maybe I should have pulled back and respected your boundaries better. I aggravated whatever was bothering you and that didn't help things. But all that said, I want to be with you. I don't want to be with anyone else. I'm guessing you're afraid that I'll see you as a conquest and once you’ve surrendered, then I'll grow bored and move on?"
"You do have that reputation."
He was silent for a few long moments and then said in a very soft voice, "Someone did that to you once, didn't they?"
I looked at the floor but couldn't bring myself to nod. It was too humiliating, and the memories hurt as they flooded back into the front of my consciousness. He reached over and tapped my arm lightly.
"It's okay. We don't need to talk about it. But that doesn't change what I said. I do want to be with you, and I am determined person. So, I'm going to pull you over and kiss you now. I'm giving you advanced warning, so you can bolt from the room if necessary," he grinned, mocking me, "but I sincerely hope that you choose to stay put. Here we go now, here's the countdown, 3-2-1!"
I saw his hands move toward me and felt them as they grabbed my upper arms pulling me gently, but steadily toward him. I looked up at him, ques
tioning, but his eyes were already closed as he bent and kissed me. It wasn't a simple or chaste kiss but one filled with desire and masculine triumph. What had begun as a lighthearted exchange had quickly boiled into a thick, heated need for one another. We entered that other world, the one without time or consequence. I never felt his hands as they pulled my shirt over my head or slid down the zipper of my skirt. All I knew was that I wanted him naked. The lamplight in the room was dim, and I looked at his body as he sat facing me. His shoulders were muscled and wide and tapered to a narrow waist. His upper arms were fluid extensions of his muscled chest, the veins standing up slightly from the skin. He had a ghost of a shadowy beard, mostly along the sides of his cheeks. I realized how sexy that was and wanted to feel those whiskers against my smooth skin. His brilliant blue eyes contrasted with the black hair that now had fallen forward, and they delivered a tantalizing, sexy look. And then my eyes traveled lower.
There was no mistaking that he felt the need, and that need was for me. His penis was fully erect, the veins standing out as the blood coursed through it, making it pulse with desirability. In some strange, primitive way, I couldn't help myself, but I lunged forward and put my hands around it, feeling him jerk from the sudden contact. Instead of pulling away, his hips moved toward me, as though he wanted to penetrate me without further delay. I put one hand on his chest and shook my head. "No, let me."
His eyes widened at the import of what I was saying. I bent down and placed my tongue on his reddened tip, running it around the circumference before sliding it into my mouth. I could feel the pulsing increase and he tasted slightly salty. I'd never done anything like that before and I wondered if I was doing it correctly. I open one eye as I quickly glanced at him. His eyes were half-shuttered, his head rolled back in passion. I let instinct take over. In that world we'd entered where there was no time, there was no accountability for the actions that followed. We only managed quick flashes of awareness, as when I realized what I needed to do to him, he felt he needed to do likewise. We fell upon each other's bodies, exploring with tongues and lips and fingers that felt for responses and then revisited to increase the desire until neither of us could stand it any longer. There was a flash of realization as I felt him enter me, gently and yet with an insistence that I couldn't deny. He fed me with himself, stroking me inside of my vaginal walls, twisting his hips so as not to miss an iota of tender flesh. He drove slowly, but insistently, from time to time stiffening when he reached my terminus. It felt exquisite.
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