His Promise

by Eddie Cleveland

  When Julia asked me if I’d mind my father marrying her and Parker, I was stunned. I know her family was in my dad’s congregation, and she grew up with his weekly sermons, but she also knows better than anyone how much bad blood is between us. I mean, Julia was always my impossibly perfect friend, so I never did tell her why he kicked me out, but it didn’t raise any questions with her. Just goes to show how much he and I were always fighting even before he turned his back on me in my darkest hour.

  The night he found out I was pregnant.

  2

  Colt

  “Rachel? Send Frank in here, please.”

  “Right away, Mr. Grant.” She speedily walks from her desk to the large waiting room just around the corner while I lean against my office wall.

  The click of Rachel’s heels, like a tap dancer breaking in his new shoes, interrupt my thoughts as she ushers in my lawyer.

  “Mr. Grant, Mr. Adams, can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” Rachel asks as I give Frank’s hand a shake.

  “No, I believe we’re both fine,” I answer for the two of us, sweeping my hand toward the seat in front of my desk.

  Frank strides across my floor with his chest puffed out like he’s about to cross-examine a witness. I’d bet a thousand bucks he’s practiced that swagger for court so much it’s become his real walk.

  How long does it take before we’re all just the polished, practiced versions of ourselves? How many years on the force before the police officer expects compliance from his children like he does from a perp on the street? How long before the lawyer treats every conversation with his wife like it’s being presented to a jury, or an accountant figures out the financial risk assessment of holiday cheer? How long before we become less of who we are and more of what we do for money? And where does that leave me?

  I focus my attention back on the moment and brush my door shut with the tips of my fingers before making my own practiced strut to the imposing leather chair behind my desk.

  “Colt! What can I do for you? Please tell me you’ve got something solid on Lisa so we can take this thing to court,” Frank Adams barks at me like we aren’t sitting five feet from each other.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Frank—”

  “Good, good! Whaddya got?”

  “Nothing. The private investigator hasn’t turned up anything we didn’t already know. The drinking, the men, she keeps all of that stuff away from Madison. I mean, damn it, she isn’t going to win any awards on mothering, but you already said it isn’t enough for me to get full custody on either, right?”

  “No, I don’t think it is, Colt.” He tents his fingers together and furrows his brow. “These custody cases still side with the mother about seventy to eighty percent of the time. And no judge in their right mind is going to award you full guardianship of Madison just because of some boozy nights and flings. You need something rock solid.”

  “Well, I don’t have time for that!” My hand squeezes around the arm of my chair until my knuckles bleach white. “In the meantime, Lisa is tumbling down a rabbit hole, and I can’t wait until she hits rock bottom before we do something about it. You need to take this to court. Even if I get partial custody, it’s gotta be better than this shit.”

  “Colt, look, I understand you’re frustrated. I’ve yet to see a child custody battle that isn’t frustrating, but if you take this to court right now, I’m telling you, it will be a mistake. Patience is going to pay off in this game. It always does,” he reassures me. Not that a word out of his expensive mouth is very reassuring.

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Sit here and hope she doesn’t do something drastic? Just hope that between her moods and her drinking she doesn’t kill Madison? I’m not paying you to sit around and wait, Frank. I’m paying you to build us a solid case and win it. There’s got to be something else we can do besides wait for the bottom to fall out!”

  “There is.” Frank is so calm it pisses me off even more. Of course he doesn’t see how urgent this is. To him, I’m just another client paying for his Manhattan office. He gets his retainer whether I win this or not. “You need to play the long game, Colt. The courts aren’t going to like that you don’t live in the same state.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do about it? The head office is here.”

  “Yes, but does it have to be? Now hear me out.” He holds his hand up, and I clamp my jaw. “I’m not saying to quit or to move outta town, but maybe you could set up a satellite office in Florida that you work out of? Maybe just half the time? Then maybe you could just come to New York for handshakes and paper signings on your meetings. It would look much better to a judge to have a residence in the same city as Madison.”

  Move? I’d never really given it any thought. Although, Lord knows I spend enough time flying back and forth to put out fires with Lisa that I might as well set up camp there.

  How many hours have I spent on those flights? Enough that every stewardess on the Eastern seaboard route knows me by name. More than a few of them have had some practice calling it out while I’ve slid my cock into them. I don’t spend my time prowling around the city for women or using my money to have them delivered to me like some kind of pizza. But I’m not a saint. Those short skirts and flirty smiles have been just the distraction I’ve needed from time to time. “Fine, I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Great.” Frank perks up. “While you’re thinking about that you might want to give some consideration to finding yourself a stable, nice woman to spend more of your time with. I’m not saying you need to be married, yet, but it would build you a more solid case against Lisa if you had more family appeal. You know, someone to tend to the roost while you’re working.”

  “I can hire a nanny or use daycare like every other working parent out there,” I argue. “A relationship is not what I need to have stability. I need you to do your job and build this case.” Who the hell does he think he is to tell me how to live my life? Move your office, find a woman. Any other hoops I can jump through for you?

  The truth is, I’m sick of occasional one-night stands with women who mean so little that I can’t remember their names. It amazes me how many of them giggle or think it’s cute when I call them ‘sugar’ or ‘honey.’ Maybe they don’t care about the pretense any more than me. I doubt they think I’m taking them to a hotel to lay the foundation of our promising future together. Not that I don’t want that.

  Settling down with the right woman is something I’ve been thinking about more and more these days. However, it’s difficult to get a new relationship off the ground with this sort of drama going on in the background.

  My eyes are strained, and my collar feels like it’s restricting my airway. Suddenly, my office, the one that was supposed to be a symbol of all my hard work finally paying off, is swallowing me. “All right, Frank. I’ll mull it all over and get back to you on how I wish to proceed.”

  “I’m just telling you how to make yourself a stronger profile in the case. You can take my advice or leave it. Just remember that when this goes to court it will be you against Madison’s mother. To take a child away from their mom, out of state, to live with a nanny isn’t a strong case. However, to take on custody in the same city, with a stable family life of your own for her to become a part of, well, I don’t need to tell you the latter will give you a fighting chance.” Frank gives me his closing arguments. He stands up and gives my hand a shake before peacocking his way out of my office.

  Typical fucking lawyer.

  3

  Isabella

  “Are you nuts? There’s no way I’m drinking that!” Julia wrinkles her nose at the tequila shots I just plopped down on the table. The club is noisy, and the heavy bass in the music is making my lungs dance along with the house beat. It’s been over a year since I’ve gone out to the bar like this.

  It blows my mind that this is how I used to spend every weekend, usually both on Friday and Saturday. It’s only a quarter to eleven, and
I’m already tired. The music seems too loud. The kids on the floor look too young. And the lines at the bar are too long.

  The only reason I’m sticking it out is because, in the entire time I’ve known Julia, we’ve never gone out on the town like this. She’s always been too serious and too focused on school to let loose. It’s nice to see her buzzing a little and relaxing for once.

  “Awww, c’mon, now you’re starting to sound like Paula and Tina.”

  We started the night at a nice Italian restaurant with all the bridesmaids. However, Julia’s brothers are all older than her, with kids. So their wives weren’t up for an all-nighter of clubbing and drinks. Tina, Parker’s sister, did stick it out with us until about an hour ago, but she ditched us when she saw the line to get in here.

  Julia looks at the shot, half of which is pooled around the thin glass from when I hit it down on the table, then looks at me. “Okay, but this is the last one.” Her hand hovers over the edge of the shot glass as she waits for me to agree.

  “Oh, all right. No more shots.”

  “No more drinking at all. There’s no way I’m going to keep up with you, and I don’t want to suffer for trying.” Julia is a lightweight. A slice of rum cake at Christmas probably gets her tipsy.

  “Do you wanna go home?” My heart sinks and my fingers pinch against the cool glass, teasing me with a mouthful of tequila. We’ve never hung out like this before, and now that Julia is a few days away from being Mrs. McGregor, I know we won’t be doing this in the future either.

  “No, no. I’m not saying that. I just don’t want to drink anymore. I’m still having fun, though.”

  “Okay then, you ready?”

  Julia nods at me, and she steels herself.

  “Three, two, one!”

  We clink the miniature glasses together, spilling a little more booze on the table. The tequila tastes like oily fire down my throat. Julia’s face twists into a knot while she struggles to swallow the liquor swirling around on her tongue.

  “This isn’t a wine tasting, don’t savor it! Just swallow it.” You’d think I handed her a slug from how much effort she’s using to get it down.

  “Ugh! How the hell does anyone drink that?” Her eyes water and she sticks out her tongue in disgust.

  “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” I tease. I’m still surprised she drank the damned thing. When I bought the shots, I figured there was a seventy percent chance that I was going to have to drink both.

  “Hey, do you remember when we used to have sleepovers in high school?” Julia tilts her head and smiles as days from our not-so-distant youth dance over her eyes.

  “Yeah, you were a goody-goody then too.” I laugh. “Always making us turn out the lights by ten and telling me to keep it down.”

  “It’s true.” Julia’s eyes soften, and she leans her head against her fist. “I’ve never had the guts to live life like you, always taking risks and having faith that it’ll all work out.”

  “Well, I think we can both see whose plan was better.” I turn my palm up to her, like I’m offering her an hors d’oeuvre at one of the many galas she goes to now. “You’ve done well for yourself. You’ve gotten promoted, like what? Three times now?”

  “Four.” She looks at the table bashfully.

  “See? Four. That’s incredible. You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished so far. Besides, the best is still ahead of you.”

  “Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m not happy. Honestly, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  “It shows.” Her happiness adds gloss to her hair and shine to her eyes that she never had before she met Parker.

  “Thanks.” Julia flashes a quick smile like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud for a moment. “Hey, so, do you remember how we would play ‘truth or dare’?”

  The image flashes back to me. Julia is sitting cross-legged in her flannel pajamas at 9:00 p.m. “Truth,” she would say. Every damned time. I would roll my eyes. Of course she chose truth. She always chose truth. It would be fine if she led a scandalous life or had some juicy secrets to share. However, the most enticing piece of information that game ever taught me about her was that she sometimes thought about what it would be like to kiss our high school quarterback.

  “You’d think I blocked it out since it was so boring.”

  We laugh. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “I know, I know.” She waves her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t as adventurous as you, okay?”

  “You’d never do any dare. Like, not even sneak down to the fridge to get some cake or something.”

  “Well, you never chose truth. It’s like you wanted me to dare you to jump across the rooftops or something. You always had way more guts than me.” Julia’s eyes lower back down to her hands and her lower lip twitches.

  “Are you okay?” I reach across and graze my fingers over her arm. It was probably a good call that she refused any more drinks. She’s getting all bleary-eyed over some silly slumber party games.

  “You know what?” Her head snaps back up with a mischievous glint that looks so unfamiliar in her dark chocolate eyes. “Let’s play right now. Except we’ll do the opposite, okay?”

  “Ugh, you want to play truth or dare?”

  “Yeah, but this time you dare me to do something, okay? But you have to answer a question. Sound fair?”

  A smile spreads across my lips as I look around the crowded night club trying to think of what I should dare her to do. My eyes rest on the bar. More specifically, the bartender.

  “Okay, I’ve got something.” It’s hard not to laugh when she already looks so worried. “You see the dime piece behind the counter?” I nod at the sexy, young hottie slinging cocktails for the swooning crowd of young ladies hovering around the bar. “I dare you to try to flirt some free drinks out of him.”

  Julia bites her lip and twirls her engagement ring around her finger. “No, I can’t. It’s just, well, I wouldn’t feel right about it with Parker…”

  I let the air deflate from my lungs in a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” My eyes skim back over the club. What the hell am I supposed to dare her to do? She won’t flirt with anyone. She won’t drink. My search stops as my gaze falls on the eight-foot dance platforms near the end of the crowded, pulsing dance floor. “I dare you”—the words roll around in my mouth like an expensive scotch—“to dance on one of those stages.” I point to the towering platform under a bright spotlight. “For one whole song. That’s my dare.” I smirk. There’s no way she can weasel her way out of this one.

  Julia shakes her head from side to side, staring at the booty-shaking, attention-seeking whores competing with each other on the small stages.

  “If you don’t want to do that one, then…”

  “No, wait. Wait.” She pulls a deep breath into her lungs and grips the side of the table as she slides her chair back across the floor. “I’ll do it.”

  My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I watch her get swallowed by the crowd on the floor and spat out the other side by the stairs leading up to the elevated stage. Even from here, I can see her push her shoulders back and throw her chin out bravely as she makes her way to the top.

  It’s hard not to cringe as she awkwardly stands at the top with her arms crossed like she’s trying to fold in on herself. Her hips sway a little, and her arms loosen up until they’re swinging by her sides. Before long, she’s shaking her ass up there like she does this every Friday night.

  Bubbles of laughter surface from inside me. It’s so strange to see Julia grab the railing of the stage and grind back against the air like a horny cat. As soon as the song changes, she stands up straight and immediately slinks away. She looks so proud of herself when she sits back down at the table, it’s impossible not to laugh.

  “Wow, I didn’t think that was going to happen. You’ve got some serious moves on you,” I tease her.

  “That was pretty fun.” She laughs. “I can’t believe I did th
at.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  “Hey, so now it’s time for you. You have to answer a question truthfully, okay?”

  God, if she was willing to get up there and dance like that with everyone watching, I’m worried about what it is she wants to know. “Uh, yeah. All right.”

  “I wanna know your secret. How do you just shut it off? Like, you live your life like you never worry about tomorrow. Here I am, worrying about ten years’ worth of tomorrows, but you’ve never been like that. How do you just have confidence that it’s all going to work out? How do you live like such a free spirit? I seriously want to know. I need some of that in my life.”

  I’m sure she means it as a compliment, but her words sting as sure as a slap in the face would. “I don’t.” Now it’s my turn to look at my hands.

  “Isabella! You said you’d answer truthfully.” Julia sighs in exasperation.

  “I am! Listen, I’m telling you the truth, okay? I don’t live life without worries. I worry too. All the time actually. Especially since you’ve…” I stare at the empty shot glasses and try to collect my thoughts.

  “Since I what?”

  “I dunno. Since you graduated college, I guess. I mean, you have everything so together, Julia. You got your degrees, left minimum wage behind, got engaged, have your career. Look at me! I’m still working the same job we had as teenagers, there’s no man who wants more than just a night with me, and I can’t get a career because I didn’t go to college. I do worry. I am worried. I wish I were more like you.”

  The thumping base fills the silent space between us as we both stare at the table. “Hey”—Julia grabs my hand and squeezes it tight—“don’t talk like it’s too late or something. It isn’t. You can have all that stuff too, you know. I can help you figure out school. We can work on the man. The job will come. Don’t be so down on yourself. I wasn’t asking you this to make you feel shitty. I asked because, well, I guess I want to be more like you too. Don’t sell yourself short, Isabella.” She shakes my hands, and I finally meet her pleading eyes. “You have a lot more to offer than you think.”