She shakes her head, but then her legal mind kicks in, even in its post-partum daze.
“So her theory is that once you met me, you could concentrate more and make more money, and no longer had to pay her alimony because the time to do so was up. But while you were paying alimony, you were too busy chasing other girls to do make as much money as you could?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, amazed that she had figured it out so quickly.
But I shouldn’t be. I know she’s smart— which is a big part of why I chose her to be my pet and why I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. And she’s also been working on some of the case pleadings and had to have been wondering what kind of legal theories I was trying to defend.
“How is she even attempting to prove her case?” Madilyn asks. “With what evidence?”
“That’s the stupid thing,” I tell her. “It’s all just testimony of people from when you and I got together, and I don’t see how that will help her prove I sexually harassed anyone in the past. It only shows that once I met you, I got serious about my life.”
“Well, yeah,” Madilyn smirks, looking at the babies in each of our arms. “But doesn’t she have to have more than that? Some testimony from earlier on?”
“I think so,” I tell her.
“So why would Janice even be talking about a deal?” she asks. “Why would they think a deal would even be on the table? How could they possibly think they’re winning this trial?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” I reply, looking down at Ashlyn because I can’t bring myself to look Madilyn in the eye.
“What?” she asks.
“I’m the one who was trying to get them to talk settlement,” I admit. “And the case is going so badly for them that this is the first time they’ve been open to such an offer. I obviously didn’t even expect them to be, or else I never would have told you to answer the phone. I thought it was Ron calling to ask if the babies were here yet and what kind of celebratory gift he should get— one of his favorite jokes is asking whether I prefer ‘it’s a girl’ or ‘it’s a boy’ flavored cigars.”
“Ha,” Madilyn laughs. “Ron. I don’t even know what Ruby sees in him.”
She shakes her head.
“But I guess everyone has their own tastes,” she continues. “And mine is apparently in a husband who becomes a softie once he becomes a father?”
“Hey now,” I tell her, trying not to raise my voice so as not to wake our sleeping babies. “That’s not true.”
“But you have a winning case and you would never settle if it weren’t for the babies.”
“I can’t think of just myself anymore,” I tell her. “There are the babies to consider, and you…”
“Why would you settle because of me?” she asks. “You know I’d want you to win.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” I tell her, shaking my head. But it’s time to lay it all out on the table. I can’t just pretend this problem doesn’t exist anymore, or hide behind her pregnancy as an excuse now that she’s no longer pregnant. “But they’re calling Jimmy to testify.”
“Jimmy?” she asks, looking confused. “What does Jimmy have to do with any of this?”
“I know,” I tell her. “It’s so dumb. I think it’s just a way to get at me. To attack you so that I’ll settle. They know it’ll work, too.”
“It will not work,” she insists. “Don’t settle no matter what. But what is Jimmy going to say?”
“That I have the propensity to take nice girls and turn them bad, mostly,” I tell her.
“Really?” she laughs.
“I know, right? As if it took big bad me to make you horny and desperate to have sex. That was all his fault.”
“Hey!” she says, quick to defend herself— and me— which is another thing I love about her. Loyal Madilyn. “It definitely took meeting you to draw out that certain part of me that knew what she wanted. Or, who she wanted.”
I smile at her, thinking that if it was her intention to blow up my ego— and something else as well— she’s definitely succeeded.
“How long did the doctor say we have to wait before we can start… doing the deed… again?” I ask, looking down at Ashlyn to make sure she hasn’t overheard anything she’s too young to hear.
“I think six weeks,” Madilyn says, laughing. “But I’ll double check. Dr. Morris might make an exception for us, if you promise to be gentle.”
“You know I can do no such thing,” I tell her.
“Well, I can’t let you go down in this ridiculous case without a fight,” she says. “And that’s exactly what you were trying to do. Not fight, just to protect me.”
“It’ll be so much easier if they just go away and if I can put this behind me,” I tell her. “They don’t even want that much money. They can’t get it— it’s an alimony case and alimony is over. They can only claim I could have made more and paid more, and they know it’s a flimsy argument. They’re just trying to make a point. I should just let them make it, and be done with it.”
“No,” Madilyn insists, bringing out that feisty side of her that I love so much. “I won’t let them. We can’t. Then they’ll never go away. They’ll think we’re weak and they’ll know we’ll cave if they hit us in the right place at the right time. We need to crush them so they know to leave us alone. We’ll ask for sanctions and make them pay for bringing such a frivolous lawsuit on such petty and self-serving grounds.”
“Wow, I really like this fighter’s spirt,” I tell her, genuinely impressed. “I mean, I’ve always known you were a good lawyer, but this is a new side of you.”
“I’m a mother now,” she says, nodding her head. “I need to fight for my family.”
“So what’s your solution, Counselor?” I ask her.
“Put me on the stand,” she says. “I’ll testify that my relationship with Jimmy was long over and that you didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want you to do.”
“You’d say that? In open court?” I ask her.
“Of course,” she says. “We’re married now, and even if we weren’t, it was the best sex of my life and I have no reason to be ashamed of it. Especially, of course, because we didn’t get caught having sex in the office.”
“Not yet, anyway,” I add, and we both laugh. “But it’s a personal goal of mine. One day it will happen. Maybe just when we need our sex life to be spiced up a bit.”
She smiles at me. I look at her, holding our son while I hold our daughter, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.
“You’d do that for me?” I ask her, knowing that if she does that, I’ll win for sure.
The case is already heavily swinging in my favor, which is why Janice wants to deal. But if she testifies, I’ll win for sure.
“I sure will,” she says, kissing Remy and then winking at me. “I’m allowed to stress now, and I feel like doing something for you the way you’ve done something for me. As long as you promise to always tell me things in the future.”
“I will,” I tell her. “Unless you’re pregnant and the doctor says not to stress you out. Or unless it’s a surprise.”
“Okay, deal,” she says.
“So what have I done for you?” I ask her.
“Oh, you’ve only mentored me, married me, knocked me up with two babies and have proven you’re a great husband and father. That’s it.”
I smile at her. Then I smile at our babies.
“That’s it, huh?” I ask her. “And for that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to fight for me?”
“Yes, Boss,” she says, smiling down at our babies as well.
“I can’t believe my fucking luck,” I continue. “I’m going to have a great life with my amazing life and two adorable babies.”
“Please, Boss.”
“For all I know, maybe we won’t stop at two,” I say, just to continue the game we used to play. But this time it isn’t a game. It’s for real. It’s for keeps.
“More, Boss,” she says, as if on
cue.
“And we’ll be together forever no matter what, right?” I ask her, just to hear what she’ll say next.
“Of course, Husband.”
Ashlyn begins to stir, but she doesn’t start to cry until Madilyn says the words I’ve been waiting for. The words I hope to hear when I’m an old man and our kids are happy, healthy and grown. And I’ll still be taking their mom in the bedroom and telling them to play video games and leave us alone for a while.
A good, long while.
“Always, Boss.”
THE END.
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Sold on St. Patrick’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance
Copyright 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Dublin, Ireland – Early March
Chapter 1 – Jade
“Blaaaaaaaaarf!”
I hear the strange noise before I see the obviously intoxicated man who is making it. I gasp and jump out of his way as he’s lurching in my direction. His hair is sticking up like a mad scientist. His eyes are bloodshot red. He smells like a distillery.
His shoulders bump into mine but I manage to move out of his way. Doing so is a major feat that requires a combination step/ turn like something out of the ballet classes I haven’t taken since I was young. But I pull it off just in time for him to vomit on the ground instead of all over my clothes.
He falls down and no one bothers to help him up. It looks like he could use a nap so after making sure that he’s still alive— although clearly in a drunken stupor— I continue heading the way I was going before he so rudely interrupted.
“You guys!” I complain to Tessa and Monique, but they’re too far ahead of me to hear me call out to them.
I shake my head, still a bit discombobulated. The last thing I expected to happen in a movie theater— even an outdoor one— was for a stranger to nearly knock me over and almost throw up on me. But I should have known to be prepared.
When people say the Irish like to drink, they’re not exaggerating. In fact, that might be a little bit of an understatement.
“This is why I didn’t even want to come out tonight,” I mumble, as I mostly catch up with my friends.
But they’re too drunk themselves— and too busy hurrying to join the line at the bar to order more alcohol— to pay any attention to me. At this point I’m just talking to myself, which is probably for the best.
I wish my friends would have witnessed my expert maneuvering out of the path of the drunken stranger and his barf so that I could have bragging rights forever. But I’m glad they didn’t hear me complain. I don’t want to be a spoilsport and ruin their fun even though this isn’t my kind of scene.
I didn’t come to Dublin to partake in the famed pastime of drinking oneself silly, but instead to study Irish literature. I’ve spent the last three months reading Joyce, Yeats and Heaney and exploring museums.
But this is my last night here on my foreign exchange scholarship and tomorrow I must head back to Boston. So I let my friends take me out with them for once.
They’re girls I met in my class back at Boston University. When we found out we’d all be studying together in Dublin, we formed an instant friendship, even though we are completely different people.
We’re all obviously bookworms— being literature majors— but I’m the nerdy one while Tessa is the strong, take charge one and Monique is the fun party girl. We became flat mates and I enjoy their company but I don’t enjoy going out.
I thought that agreeing to go an open air cinema for a showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off would be a fairly tame— yet cold— event. I was right about it being cold, but not about much else.
The projector and comfortable, plush sofas are set up in the middle of Meeting House Square, which sounds like a place where fancy events are held— and often is. It looks almost like the courtyard of a Roman building, with columns all around and tent-like fabric that fails to shield us from the cruel March weather.
Everyone is wearing sweatshirts and huddled up next to their friends or lovers for protection from the elements. Except, of course, for the people too drunk to notice the temperature— including Tessa and Monique, who didn’t even bother to wear jackets.
“Why bother getting dressed up to go out if we’re just going to cover ourselves up with coats?” they had protested when I’d suggested it before we left.
“Good point,” I had answered.
I was talking about a different part of their point than they were. The part where it made no sense to get dressed up in skimpy clothes to go outside in cold weather. And perhaps I would extend that part to make a further point that it didn’t make sense to go out at all. Renting a movie and making popcorn is more my idea of a fun night.
But I would prefer to go to a movie over a bar so I was glad they had chosen to come here. I didn’t know, however, that on occasions such as tonight Meeting House Square was transformed into both an outdoor movie venue and a bar.
Nor that my friends planned to go bar-hopping all around Dublin’s Temple Bar Square area— which offers plenty of options for that goal— as soon as the movie ends. They have since filled me in on such plans.
I join Tessa and Monique in line but by the time we reach the front of it the movie is almost over.
“Three shots of whiskey with Coke backs,” Tessa tells the bartender, and my mouth drops open.
“Tessa, this is my first drink of the night,” I protest. “Can’t we start off with one of those girly martinis you made me last week while we were watching Shameless at the flat?”
“No way,” she says. “It took you forever to drink that and we need to hop on over to a bar.”
She pushes the shot glass in my direction.
“Hurry up and down this before Ferris’ parents come home and find him sound asleep in his bed,” she commands.
“Hey, no spoilers,” Monique says.
“Oh come on,” Tessa says. “Like we haven’t all seen this movie a thousand times.”
I roll my eyes, but I down the drink and then quickly chug the soda to chase down the bitter taste that burns my throat. I had planned to have fun tonight and so far I haven’t so I guess I should loosen up and this drink should help.
I deserve to have a fun last night in Ireland, I think, as I finish off the soda. And I also deserve to celebrate my escape from nearly being puked on.
I don’t know why I have to be so antisocial all the time. All night I’ve been wishing I could curl up on one of the comfy- looking sofas and read a book on my Kindle.
I didn’t dare speak that thought to my friends, however, and I know that they would rightfully make fun of me for having them. It’s supposed to be Girls’ Night Out. It’s supposed to be fun.
“Come on,” Tessa says, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction of the street. “Movie’s over. Time to party.”
The credits are still rolling and we didn’t get to the part where Ferris emerges from his room and tells everyone to go home. But clearly there are more pressing matters at hand. Like partying. And whatever else the night has in store.
Chapter 2 – Jade
“Where to?” Monique asks, as we walk away from the open air cinema. “I’m down to do whatever tonight.”
“We have got to take her to Temple Bar, of course,” Tessa says. “After all, what would Temple Bar Square be without Temple Bar?”
“Just another random square,” Monique answers, and laughs.
“Or maybe a circle?” Tessa proposes.
They crack up and I laugh some too but they think it’s a lot funnier than I do because they’re a lot more wasted.
“You guys have been here before?” I ask, looking around to try to figure out exactly where we are.
There’s a party atmosphere that feels v
ibrant and busy. I’m glad it doesn’t seem like a sketchy place but it also doesn’t feel super safe.
Not being much of a partier— or any sort of partier at all— I’m not familiar with this area of Dublin. I want to make sure I know where we are. I have a feeling I’ll be leaving a lot earlier than these two party animals will be.
“Of course,” Monique says. “We come here all the time.”
“They have live music,” Tessa says. “And great food.”
“That’s good,” I nod. “I am getting hungry.”
“If I eat anything I’ll burst out of my dress,” Monique says. “I need to save my calories for more alcohol.”
“But Jade’s calorie meter is nearly on empty,” Tessa says, “Because she has barely had anything to drink all night.”
We enter the pub and I find that they were right: the band is great and the fish and chips are even better. I even order a pint of Guinness and a glass of Bailey’s to go with it because the waiter tells me that no Irish meal is complete without it.
We hit the dance floor and have a fun time trying to dance to the unfamiliar Irish music. After a couple more drinks I feel a bit woozy and I remember why I don’t like alcohol. I hate feeling out of control.
Monique and Tessa start flirting with some guys they keep calling “Irish lads.” But I hang back, always feeling shy and unsure of myself around men or anyone other than friends and family members with whom I feel comfortable.
When they start locking lips, I decide it’s the perfect time to take a break. I’m a sweaty mess from dancing and I am starting to get tired. I think about calling it a night but I decide to go sit down for a little while instead.
“I’m going to head to the little lassies’ room,” I tell Monique and Tessa, but they’re too busy making out on the dancefloor to pay me any attention— and once again I’m glad.
Knock Me Up, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance Page 55
