by Laura Moore
Suddenly restless, he dragged his hand over his face before shoving it into the front pocket of his trousers. “This whole thing with the baby, Dakota, it’s brought up a lot of stuff for me. On the day of your ultrasound, you and Dr. Davis were so relaxed, and I was a fucking basket case, terrified the ultrasound tech was going to pause the cursor over some part of the baby and say, ‘Uh-oh.’ But then, finding out that it was perfectly healthy and that we were going to have a little girl, well, that was even scarier because I knew it would be up to me to keep her healthy and perfect. After what happened to Rosie, I don’t think I’m good at that.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “Max, I’m so sorry for bringing her up—”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it wasn’t right.”
“Then it was necessary. I’d been trying to find the guts to tell you about how she died. You’re the first person I’ve talked to about what happened to Rosie and my mom, and the fallout with my dad.
“Dakota, my dad had it rough. His father walked out on his mother and him when he was a kid. To help his mother out, he got a job at a garage when he was sixteen. Then Vietnam happened. He got called up, one of the last rounds of draftees. Dad didn’t talk about what happened during the war. But I think it made him hard, quick to anger. But Rosie? She melted him, even more than my mom did.
“Sure, Dad was proud of me, teaching me about cars, coming to my games, and all, but Rosie could make him smile. He didn’t seem the type who’d appreciate art, but I swear, when Rosie showed him one of her drawings, it was like he was holding a Leonardo in his hands.” He turned to her. “You were right, Dakota. I was angry at him for accusing me of helping cause her death, because I loved her just as much as he did.”
“I may have been right, but I was wrong to cause you such pain, and I’m so very sorry, Max.”
“Forgiven.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Facing all that again was bound to hurt. But I’m glad you made me. Otherwise I might not have been thinking of our baby, of Rosie, of my father, or of you when I went into that meeting. But because I was, I knew that I couldn’t go along with Chris and Bob’s plan to rake in millions while others suffered. I wouldn’t be able to look my daughter in the face if I did.”
Max had quit his high-powered job because he was worried about being a good enough man for their baby girl? Dakota’s heart pounded, ready to burst with love. She leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I think our daughter is going to know how incredibly lucky she is to have you as her father. You did the right thing, Max.”
He gave a short laugh. “You may be the only one who feels that way. Private equity guys don’t just quit because the CEO of one of their companies makes a morally questionable move to increase profits. Strangely, though, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the PE world thinks. And I have a strong suspicion that walking away from the Summit Group feels a hell of a lot better than getting fired, which is what Chris was trying to pull off by releasing the sex tape.”
“Wait. He released it? I thought it was this Ashley—”
“I figured it out on my way here. Ashley probably told Chris about the tape some time ago, and likely showed it to him. He basically implied as much in San Francisco, but I was too focused on Chiron to see the threat behind his sleazy comments. Then I got a voicemail from Chris, sent just after today’s meeting. I think he orchestrated the tape’s release to damage me in Bob’s eyes. He knows Bob’s character and was counting on him to be so livid over the tape that he’d fire me—or at the very least take me out of the running to succeed him as Summit’s CEO. The one thing Chris hadn’t counted on was my quitting.”
“But,” Dakota said, trying to process it all, “you made Chris CEO of Chiron. Why would he turn around and do that to you?”
“Petty vindictiveness.” He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “He obviously got his nose out of joint when I didn’t give in to his demands to name a CFO of his choosing and to renegotiate his compensation package. And honestly? I think he was pissed that I wasn’t hanging with his crowd anymore. I hurt his feelings.”
“I’m sorry Bob Elders didn’t support you,” she said.
“Yeah. But you know what? When I looked across that big black desk of Bob’s, I realized I didn’t want to end up there.”
She found his hand and linked her fingers with his. The ocean was calm today, the waves negligible compared to the ones she and Max had negotiated these past forty-eight hours. “So what do you want to do instead, Max?”
He let out a deep breath. “I’ve got a few ideas. I’m thinking of striking out on my own and investing in companies I believe in, ones that I feel are really worth supporting.” Still holding her hand, he turned toward her and looked at her solemnly. “But first I want to take some time off and do some other things.”
“Such as?”
“To begin with, I want to take my wife to Michigan and show her the town I grew up in, the football field I played on, the streets I cruised. I want to show her the house I lived in, and I want to introduce her to my father. Dakota, I can’t promise that my dad will want to have anything to do with me, or that he and I will ever be able to forget and forgive, but I’m willing to take the first step.”
She blinked the tears away. “Oh, Max,” she said, planting kisses on the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, and then his mouth again.
Smiling, he kissed her back.
“I’m so, so proud of you,” she said.
“I haven’t finished my list yet.”
“Oh, right.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling foolishly. “Do go on.”
“And then, when our baby girl enters the world, I’d like to name her Rosemary Frances. Frances was my mom’s middle name.”
“Rosemary Frances Carr,” Dakota said, sounding it out. “It’s perfect.” She nodded enthusiastically. “I love it.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Also on my list, after Rosie’s born and you’re up for it, I want to get married again. This time I want to renew my vows to you in front of Rosie and our friends. I’ll push Rosie in a baby stroller or wear one of those carrier things if necessary. The important thing is for everyone I care about to know how much I love you. And that my love will last forever and forever again.” Framing her face with his hands, he gazed into her eyes and repeated, “I love you, Dakota,” and then he kissed her.
When at last they separated, their breaths mingled in quick pants and soft laughs. “So what do you think of my plan?” he asked huskily. “Are you up for all that?”
“I am. Very much so.”
Taking her hand in his, they began walking toward the house. “And what do you want, Dakota? I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“I already am. You’ve given me so much, Max. I can’t wait to meet our baby. I knew I wanted a child someday, but this baby girl growing inside me feels so special and so right. And while I hope that things will work out between you and your father, we’re making our own family, Max. It’s going to be a good one.”
He squeezed her hand. “I think it already is.”
She stepped in front of him and gazed into his eyes. “I love you, Max. With all my heart. You know that, right?”
“I do now.” His smile a thing of beauty, he drew her close and kissed her slowly because they had all the time in the world.
—
They’d resumed walking and were almost at the house when she stopped again. “Max?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Actually, I do want something.”
“Name it.”
“That tape of you and Ashley? It’s going to be bothering me for a while. I don’t like to think of how long it will take for me to unsee it.”
His brows drew together in dismay. “Ah, sweetheart—”
“So I think we should make our own tape. Maybe several.”
Surprised laughter burst out of him. “Dakota, love, I’ll make as many sex tapes with you as you wish. Whenever you wan
t. I’m yours.”
Yes, she thought with a smile. He really was.
It seemed that Rosie Frances Carr was as impatient to come into the world as Dakota was to see her, and then to watch Max’s expression when he held his daughter for the first time.
She and Max were in his study when the first contraction came, a cramping low in her belly that reminded her of the achy days when she would pop ibuprofen to combat her period. Dakota was propped on the sofa, her legs stretched out, with a plump throw pillow on her lap and her computer perched upon it. With her belly now as big as a basketball and very much heavier, it was the easiest way for her to type. At the moment the setup performed an additional service, effectively hiding her from Max’s gaze as she arched and shifted against the cushions until the discomfort had passed.
There was no reason to alert him yet. She’d let him know when things started getting serious, and right now she thought that listening to him on the phone with Mike Gaddis while they discussed how to structure Carr Capital, the venture capital fund that Max was forming, was the best thing for her. She loved how excited he was at the prospect of starting his own fund and calling the shots.
Roger Cohen had done Max a solid when he’d recommended Mike Gaddis. The lawyer had fiercely negotiated Max’s exit from the Summit Group, making sure Bob Elders felt the pain of refusing to stand with Max and pressure Chris Steffen into backing down on increasing Mitrilocin’s price by such an astronomical sum.
And now Elders and Chris were feeling even more pain. As Max had predicted, the price hike had caused industry watchdogs to sound the alarm. The news reports detailing the price gouging had made the Summit Group’s limited partners very unhappy, as many of the funds came from university endowments. Among those universities, a number of them had medical schools; others had their names attached to the country’s leading hospitals. It didn’t look good to have their institutions investing in a company that so blatantly and callously chose profits over the needs of seriously ill patients.
The stories surrounding Mitrilocin spread quickly and generated enough public outrage that lawmakers took notice. Word had it that come September Chris Steffen was going to have to explain himself to a congressional committee. Dakota hoped the members raked him over the coals.
So Max was in a good place. They were in a good place.
It had started with the trip to Mason. She hadn’t thought she could love Max more, but after he’d driven to the modest split-level house with its detached garage in the back and walked up the cement path, birdcalls marking their measured approach, he’d stood on the front stoop, staring at the door, obviously steeling himself for another rejection. When he pressed the doorbell, she knew it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Seconds stretched as they waited. Then they heard the slide of locks being turned, and Dakota’s hand grew numb from Max’s grip.
The door opened and Max’s father was there, a stooped, lined, and grizzled version of his son. The men stared in silence. It was the elder man who broke it.
“You’re here.” His voice was thick with disbelief.
She’d given a subtle pull of her hand so Max would release it. “It’s a nice afternoon. I’ll go sit on that bench under the tree.” She pointed. Rising up on her toes, she kissed the corner of Max’s mouth, offered his father a polite smile, and left.
If there was a future meeting with Max’s father, then she’d join them. To do so now would be an intrusion.
A half an hour later Max came for her. She suspected neither man could withstand the emotional toll of a longer visit. He sank down beside her and his hand found hers. “Rosie used to sit here and draw.”
They sat on Rosie’s bench while Max cried out his grief. When his tears stopped, he dried his face with a rough swipe of his arm.
She gave him a few minutes more to recover. “It went okay?”
He gave a tired shrug. “As well as it could. I said I was sorry I’d stayed away for so long and that I hoped he’d want to be part of our lives. God, Dakota, the house? It looked exactly the same. I didn’t have the heart to go into Rosie’s and my rooms, but I know they’re untouched, not a CD moved or a trophy disturbed. I’ve been such an ass to leave him alone all these years.” He leaned over his folded legs as if his heart were weighing him down.
She stroked his back in slow soothing circles. “He hurt you, too, Max,” she reminded him gently.
“He looked so much older. No matter what, I’ll take care of him somehow.”
—
Max’s father must have been watching through the window, for he came outside as they made their way to the car. Like Max’s, his eyes were red-rimmed. “You’re Dakota.”
“Yes.”
“Max said it was your idea to name the baby Rosie. Thank you.”
His accent was different from Max’s, she noted. Max had probably lost the Michigan in his speech after living in New York for so many years. “Rosemary Frances—that was Max’s idea. She’s going to be very much loved,” she said gently. “Like your own daughter.”
At her answer, his lips trembled. Pressing them together, he nodded.
“We very much hope you’ll come and visit us, Mr. Carr. You will always be welcome.” She left it at that. Max had extended an olive branch, she an invitation.
Reconciliation was a process. Max and his father now spoke once a week on the phone, and the conversations were gradually losing their awkwardness. The biggest milestone had come only a week ago, when Max’s father had said that he’d like to visit them after Rosie arrived. He thought he still remembered how to change a diaper and hold a bottle. He might be able to help with some of those changings and feedings.
Later that day she overheard Max on the phone with the mechanic at her garage, asking where he could get an old clunker to rebuild. It was so adorable that she had to leave the room so she wouldn’t embarrass him by throwing her arms around him and smothering him with kisses. Now it occurred to her that she’d better tell Max to buy one of those wrecks quickly, because it looked as if his father would be coming east sooner than they had all expected.
Max’s courage in going to see his father had inspired her to write to hers. She’d drafted the letter four times and then had shown it to Max. “It’s good, babe,” he’d said with a smile. “Just right. It may take him a while to get over his shock.”
“Only natural.”
“Only natural,” he agreed. “But then I think he’ll contact you. Including the photo is a good idea. You do take after him.”
Thank God for that. She wanted nothing more to do with the Hales. “And you’re okay with my mentioning you?”
He’d cupped her chin and covered her lips with his. “Absolutely,” he said when the kiss had ended. “Actually, the only thing I’d add to your letter is an invitation to him and his family to come to our celebration.”
They’d decided to renew their wedding vows at Windhaven, taking one more step in obliterating the Hale presence. Hendrick was delighted at the prospect of officiating. She and Max had initially discussed holding the after-ceremony party at the Maidstone Club, knowing this would be another humiliating blow to Mimi. But in the end Dakota had decided she preferred having the party at Windhaven. The house was more than big enough to accommodate all their guests, and having the entire affair there would stick in Mimi’s craw just as much as throwing the party at the Maidstone. After all, living well was the best revenge, and Dakota and Max were living very well indeed. Besides, Dakota had another and far more important thing to consider than how to strike back at her aunt: she wanted to be able to put Rosie in her crib once the baby tired of celebrating with her parents and their friends.
As if on cue, Rosie chose to make her presence very much felt. Another contraction gripped Dakota, this one stronger than the last, powerful enough that she absolutely needed to get up or else the jig would be up and Max would be hustling her to the hospital, where they might very well be told to return home until the labor had pro
gressed.
She couldn’t see Max taking that well.
Closing her computer, she set it on the coffee table and stood, rubbing the small of her back as she did.
“Hold on a sec, Mike.” Cupping his hand over the phone, he motioned her to come over to his chair. “Everything all right?” he asked, looping an arm around her belly.
“Absolutely.” She pressed a kiss against the top of his head. Would Rosie have his auburn-tinted hair? “I just need to stretch. I’m going to take a short walk on the beach.”
“This shouldn’t take much longer—”
“No rush.” At least not yet. And she wanted a few minutes alone with her daughter by the sea. She smiled. “Finish your work. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She walked a little ways on the beach, wincing when the next contraction hit her. They were coming regularly now but were still bearable, and she’d much rather be watching the lazy rolls of the incoming waves and letting the wash cool her feet than be stuck in the maternity center’s delivery room. She did, however, call Dr. Davis’s office to inform her that she’d started having contractions and how fast and intensely they were coming.
She crossed paths with an older couple walking with their black-and-white French bulldog. They were marveling at how fast their dog ran along the wet, hard sand and laughing when it dodged the waves lapping the shore, beating a retreat to higher ground.
Perhaps because of all Max and she had already been through together, she could easily picture the two of them in forty years’ time doing much the same thing, enjoying a late afternoon walk with their beloved dog…though Max would probably want a bigger dog. Once they and Rosie had settled into a predictable routine, she’d start researching breeds, she decided with a smile.
Her smile faltered as another contraction took hold. The pain was replaced by surprise and excitement when she felt a wet warmth slide down the inside of her legs. She glanced over her stomach to where her flowing skirt ended, and her suspicion was confirmed: her water had broken.
