by Chloe Liese
I stopped. She stopped. I looked both ways, whipped open a vacant office door and pulled her in.
“I didn’t think I should talk with you about it right before a big meeting. I don’t want to upset you.”
She smiled faintly, but her face was strained. “I want to know. I’ll be fine.”
This whole trajectory of Elodie and me felt telescoped to this moment and its permutations. Every logistical roadblock I’d put up to a long-term us had been removed. We’d opened up about our hopes and the challenges of making a relationship work. I’d promised to work on adaptive living. Children were safe to have.
I stared at her, in awe that after all she’d been through with me, Elodie wanted this with me. And when I told her, she’d know everything was possible.
“Lucas, you’re torturing me,” she said, grabbing my coat. “Tell me.”
“I’m not…sterile. Not in the least. Carter botched it, epically.”
Her hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
“See?” I pulled her against me, kissed her hair, and fought worry. “I’ve upset you.”
She pushed me away, and I realized she was beaming. “I’m not upset. I’m so happy, Loulou!”
Her fingers were in my hair, and she tugged me by the shoulders until I was flush against her. Elodie’s sweet mouth crashed into mine, and as always, our tongues danced immediately. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed myself against her.
“You’re happy? You’ll want another?” I asked against her lips.
“Oh, yes, Loulou. Another and another.”
Elodie wanted babies with me—that meant she wanted me, all of me, for the long haul. You didn’t want babies with someone you didn’t want forever with, did you?
That thought reverberating in my head, tomorrow’s plans became both a bit more complicated and more dauntingly significant.
After serving them tea and biscuits, kissing their arse as if an early arrival were not a problem in the least, we settled in the large conference room. Gorgon’s executive team lounged around the table while Elodie finished passing around the presentation. After her first client meeting when she’d done this ritual, I’d told her Gina should hand out papers, seeing as it was an administrative task. She’d yanked the printouts back out of my hands, given me a look that said don’t cross me, Edwards, and I’d left it at that.
I realized gradually that she used it as a last-minute quality-control check. Every time, she flipped through each printout, ensuring its completeness and correctness before setting it down. It took a minute, but I always enjoyed watching her at work.
“How goes, El?” Andrew, one of their founders, smiled up at her as she leaned nearby and slid the last of the papers over to his business partner and the other founder, Roy. As I caught his eyes sliding appreciatively over her body, I ground my teeth together, knowing that at this rate, within the decade, working with Elodie and all these tossers would reduce my dentition to dust.
“Well. And you, Andrew?” she answered evenly. Having completed her task, she strode purposefully to her seat across from me, closest to the presentation screen.
I felt her foot slip against my ankle and managed not to jump out of my skin. When I glanced up at her, she was smiling as she spread out her copy.
“Very well,” Andrew said while his gaze continued its perusal of her. “Beautiful view here.”
I rolled my eyes and swallowed the derisive snort begging to be let out. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
The screen came to life, a massive blur. I nearly told Elodie to adjust the focus, as you did with the projectors we’d used in primary school, when I remembered this was a digital projection from the laptop.
Meaning the issue of focus lay with me.
Attempting nonchalance, I swiped my glasses from their perch at the head of my handout, and set them on, seeing if they accomplished anything. Bugger, I couldn’t see any of it clearly.
Panic surged through me. This had never happened. The past week I’d noticed a few new black spots in my peripheral vision, and for a long time of course I’d needed glasses for the computer screen and a book in front of me. But this was unprecedented. The whole presentation was a colorful blur—numbers were lost to me, even the large title at the top of the elaborate graphic representation was a haze.
The lads were absorbed in flipping around the printout, but Elodie caught every movement, a small crease of concern forming between her brows. She knew what I used my glasses for, and I saw the cogs turning quickly as she realized I must be unable to see the screen.
I tried sliding my glasses up and down my nose, seeing if a different angle changed their efficacy, but my view remained resolutely fuzzy. Elodie’s gaze bored into me, and when I turned back to her, I slipped the glasses off, setting them down before I stared back at her. I shook my head ever so slightly to indicate we were absolutely fucked.
I was about to apologize—beg off with some excuse that I’d just realized an error in the numbers and we should reschedule, but Elodie stood, causing me to snap my jaw shut and stare at her in barely concealed shock.
“Gentlemen.” She smiled widely at them, professional yet warm.
Every one of them beamed back at her, sat up in their seats, and proceeded either to adjust their ties or straighten out their suit coats. Bloody hell. I had to be blind to the presentation and perfectly capable of watching fifteen blokes ogle my Elodie. The world was cruel, indeed.
“Lucas has been gracious enough to let me have a turn running this meeting, rather than only covering my portion of our consultative services. I hope you’ll bear with me, as this is my first time at the helm with you all. That said, please know, I’ve been heavily involved in your account since you started with us, I’m fascinated by your work, and deeply invested in seeing you succeed—so whether I make a mistake here or there, don’t doubt how much I personally—and Farthington as your consultant and advisor—value your company’s vision and goals for the future.”
I glanced around at their sea of nodding heads and appreciative smiles and then back to the woman who’d saved my arse.
Again.
“Thank you, Elodie,” I said. “Let’s begin.”
For sixty minutes, I watched her, transfixed. She slaughtered it—absolutely aced it. Elodie covered every nuance in the results, pointed out key drivers and pivotal assumptions, making these men glance furiously from her captivating delivery to the notes they couldn’t help but scribble along the margins in our presentation. She threw in additional observations and recommendations left out of the summary, which clearly demonstrated she knew their market and business inside out. As she left the numbers and opened it up for discussion, the conversation directed itself back to me somewhat. Still, she fielded her fair share of questions and handled every one that came her way with poise and due attention.
By the end of it, I was right chuffed, glowing with pride, even as more sinister feelings nagged at the back of my mind.
Weakness. Inadequacy. Unworthiness.
I suppressed those ravenous voices that feasted on my self-worth, making me question my ability to be a partner to this woman. I couldn’t listen to them, because they’d swallow me whole. So I listened to Elodie and basked in her brilliance instead.
When the meeting concluded, Elodie stayed for a polite few minutes, accepting praise and additional conversation only briefly before she slipped out and disappeared. I stood and shook hands, engaged in the usual perfunctory banter, then saw each one of them off. When they were all gone, I stared around the room. Then I sat down, turned back on the projector, and tried different distances, to see if I could see any of them. Some of them focused okay, others not at all.
I whipped out my phone and dialed Jo’s number.
“Wendy’s barbecue and grille,” she answered.
I threw my phone on the table, set to speaker. “I can’t see the bloody projector, Jo.”
A beat of silence. “Just general fuzziness?”<
br />
“Yes.”
“That’s nothing to do with choroideremia. That’s just your piss-poor eyesight you inherited from your mother, along with the choroideremia. You’re probably overtaxing your eyes a bit in general to try to compensate for your retinal damage, though. Come in. I’ll take a look and tweak your prescription.”
An exhale burst out of me. “Oh, thank God.” I’d been convinced this was a sign my disease’s progress was accelerating.
Another silence stretched between us. “Lucas…have you done any of the things we’ve talked about?”
I toed the carpet. “Not exactly. I’ve had a lot going on. Elodie’s accident, then the baby. Now it’s busy season at work. But after the new year, I swear, I’ll—”
“No, Lucas, you don’t have that kind of time. You’re overworking yourself, squinting at screens and printouts, navigating environments that might be hazardous. I need to reassess you for driving, reexamine your peripheral vision. The time is now, sweets. I’m sorry to be tough on you, but that’s how it is between us. We’ve got to come at this, head-on.”
“What’s there to come at, Jo? I’m already visually impaired. I’m going blind. Becoming disabled.”
“Differently abled,” Jo corrected. “And choroideremia does not define you, it’s how you handle it. It’s our choices that reveal what we truly are, much more than our abilities."
I frowned at the phone. “Did you just paraphrase Albus Dumbledore and attempt to sound inspirational?”
“Yes, but I credited him in my head. There was a mental footnote.”
“Plagiarist.”
“Prat,” she countered.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”
“Good fellow. And while you’re at it, bring that sensational bird of yours. Never hurts to have something easy on the eyes.”
“Wow.”
“You heard me, Lukey. Tootles.”
Twenty
Elodie
Jamie pursed his lips and frowned at me as I held him. “What’s the matter, mon petit?”
“Careful,” Zed warned, dropping onto the chair across from me. “He looks like he’s about to unload on you.”
“Unload? I don’t understand.” I glanced back to Jamie, and Zed’s meaning became abundantly clear. Jamie’s face went bright red as an explosive noise rattled his bum.
“Sweet Jesus, that sounded like a bad one.” Zed jumped up, setting down his drink and stepping my way. “Quick, hand him over before your clothes get ruined.”
I glanced down in disbelief at Jamie, who cooed happily now, but the smell that wafted my way quickly set me into action. “Oh, okay, here he is.”
Zed swept Jamie off of my lap, holding him at arm’s length, which just made Jamie babble more. His dark hair still stood straight up in a little mohawk, stubbornly refusing to do anything else, to Nairne’s chagrin. He kicked his legs happily and made squawking noises as Zed carried him to the dining room, where they kept a bassinet and changing table.
“Christ, kid!” Zed reared back, face scrunched in suffering. “What the fuck did your mom eat today?”
“Language,” Nairne chided, walking in so steadily in her arm crutches it made my heart sing. She’d worked hard toward a greater range of mobility, and every time I saw her doing it I wanted to cry. Which only made Nairne laugh and call me a big softie.
She smiled at me, looking gorgeous in an emerald shift dress that matched her eyes. “To answer your question, I may have stopped in at the pub on my way home and had fish and chips.”
Zed gagged, swiftly wiping Jamie’s bum while he lifted his little feet in one hand. “That would explain it. Fuck, Nairne, next time it’s on you. You can’t do this to me. I have a weak stomach.”
Nairne shrugged, sitting down cheerily next to me on the sofa. Letting go of her crutches, she took my arm. “You ready for your big night?”
“I suppose,” I said on a faint smile.
Though the most incapacitating pain from my miscarriage had subsided, I still ached, especially being around my godson. My pain was there, but manageable, like a shadow that I could keep at bay if I kept my eyes trained on the sunlit path in front of me. I tried for a wider smile that felt a little too bright for my melancholy. “Thank you for wanting to go out.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nairne reached for the pretzels sitting among a small spread of snacks on the coffee table, and popped one in her mouth. She glanced around, like something was missing. “Zed, where’s the yogurt?”
Zed threw the soiled cloth diaper into the wash pail with a look of disdain. “It would be in the refrigerator where yogurt belongs, not in a bowl next to pretzels, you weirdo.”
She pouted and glared at him. “You’re such a food fuddy-duddy. It’s a delicious combination.”
Setting Jamie, freshly diapered and happy, up on his shoulder, Zed walked our way. “Believe it or not, even if I were gastronomically adventurous, I’m really not in much of a mood to talk about food right now after the massacre I just wiped off your son’s ass.”
“Oh, quit your havering.” Nairne reached for Jamie, who happily screeched when he was placed in her arms. “Hullo, my wee man! I missed you this afternoon, yes I did.” She continued cooing to him as she lifted a layer of her dress, which had some magical opening for him to nurse. He latched on loudly and began thumping her chest.
Zed sighed wistfully. “Ah, the good old days.”
Nairne laughed, staring down at Jamie. “No need to be jealous. They were yours first. Still are.” She smoothed a hand down Jamie’s hair, but it popped right back up.
“Damn straight,” Zed said as he kissed her on the head. “All right, now that I’m officially out of the war zone, I’m going to go wash my hands and change.” He started walking toward the foyer, then spun around. “Wait, where’s Lucas? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
“We had a lion of a day.” I sighed.
Nairne snorted. “Bear, Elodie. A bear of a day.”
I shrugged. Lucas had given up correcting me unless they were particularly offensive, but I’d found a little list in the kitchen where he kept a running tab of them, which proved both sweet and informative. He got his sentimentality; I still got to learn. Who knew it was knock it out of the park? A pitch made much more sense.
“Well, regardless,” I said, “it was a long day. We’re doing another rush project for Gorgon before the end of the fiscal year, then something came up with Avery, and Lucas had to stay and smooth it over. He tried to sneak it past me, but that’s impossible to do when I know his schedule and correspondence better than he does. He still insisted I leave ahead of him, and said he’d meet us there.”
Zed groaned as he turned back to the stairs and jogged them. “Wow, that sounds miserable. Sometimes getting paid to play with a ball doesn’t sound so shitty after all.”
“The tragic life of a footballer,” Nairne whispered to Jamie. “Your poor da, huh, Jamie?”
The doorbell rang.
“Would you get it, El?” Nairne asked. She was staring happily at Jamie, and my heart hurt.
“Of course.” I went to the door, checked the security camera first to be safe and then did a double take. “Nairne, were you expecting your father?”
“Yes!” she called from the living room. “Who do you think is watching Jamie tonight?”
I blinked in confusion, unlocking the door, and pulling it open. Both her father-in-law and brother-in-law lived nearby, but perhaps they were traveling. “You still haven’t found a nanny?”
“No,” Gianno said as he stepped inside. “To my absolute delight.” He dropped his crossbody bag and gave me a gentle hug hello. “Good to see you again, Elodie, you look wonderful, bella. And buon compleanno.”
“Thank you, Gianno. It’s good to see you.”
He had a lean, muscular frame that made me see where Nairne had inherited her lithe build, wiry compared to my muscles and curves. Behind his glasses, Gianno had the most int
eresting eyes, the color of cognac. He had to be pushing sixty, and he only had a few wrinkles around those amber irises and a dusting of silver along the temples of his dark brown hair.
It was a bizarre small-world story, how Nairne’s father had found his way into her life only in her adulthood. It also made for shocking differences between this Italian father and his daughter who took much more after her Scottish mother. Yet for all their disparities, Gianno held a magnetic appeal to him that echoed in Nairne. I had to hand it to them—Italian men, like wine, grew better with age. I fanned my face to try to cool the blush in my cheeks.
“Did you fly in just now?” I asked.
Gianno smiled, oblivious to my hormones. “Eh, what else do I have to do with myself? I’m retired, my house renovations are done, I have more flight credit than I could use in five lifetimes, and il mio patatino lives all the way in England, so far from his nonno.”
I watched happily as Gianno followed the sound of Nairne’s laughter, strolling into the living room and devolving into Italian baby talk. Locking the door, I followed them. Tears pricked my eyes as Gianno bent over Jamie who cooed in Nairne’s lap.
Even if Lucas and I had another baby, Papa would never know or fawn over him like Gianno did Jamie. But then I remembered Charli and Jack, all their words of encouragement, kind smiles, and long hugs they’d lavished on me in the short time we’d known each other. Even if my family was estranged from me, the fact was if I had children with Lucas, they would be loved openly and deeply, as I was now.
Zed hustled down the steps, cuffing the sleeves of a black button-down, which made him look dangerous and very handsome indeed. With his scruff along his jaw and those insanely bright eyes peering out from dark lashes and brows, he looked every bit as rough and dashing as Charli always described him.
I glanced to Nairne, who was watching him with hunger in her gaze.
“Ready?” Zed glanced up, staring between the three of us.
I nudged him as I walked by and picked up my bag. “You clean up nice, Zed.”
