by Layla Hagen
"Hi, Natasha!" I extend my hand to her, which she shakes stiffly.
"Victoria! How's business going?"
"It's good," I say with a smile. "Finding clients isn't easy, but it's better than I expected."
Natasha scrutinizes me, pursing her lips. I know the gesture too well. It means she's carefully considering her words.
"I've been at Alice Bennett's newest restaurant. Imagine my surprise when she said you decorated it."
"Why are you surprised? I decorated the first one too."
"My company decorated it." Ah yes, Natasha is definitely one of those bosses who loves to take all of the credit. "She was our client. I wasn't aware your business model is stealing our clients."
I freeze as if someone doused a bucket with ice over my head. "I didn't steal anyone. Alice was my account when I worked for you. I decorated her entire restaurant. She was happy with my work and wanted me to help her with the second one too."
"The correct thing would have been to ask her to find another decorator within my company."
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tap my fingers on the opposite elbow. "I told her I'm no longer employed by you. It was her choice to go with me."
Natasha smiles tightly. "If I find out that any other clients of mine will choose to go with you, you're going to have a lawsuit on your hands."
When did she become so catty? I found out how unfair she was when she fired me at the first sign I had a personal life with new responsibilities, but even then she was diplomatic.
"I'm in no mood to listen to your unfounded accusations. Have a good day, Natasha."
I'm fuming as I walk over to the next display, and several minutes pass before I'm calm enough to concentrate on my task again. After finishing my rounds, I join Isabelle at the standing coffee shop at the back of the venue.
"What goodies did you find?" I inquire as she hands me a cup of tea. We exchange information and opinions for half an hour before I bring up the topic of our former employer.
"I bumped into Natasha," I tell her.
Isabelle jerks her head back in surprise.
"How did it go?"
"She basically accused us of stealing Alice Bennett from her."
Isabelle snorts, looking through some of my notes. "I spoke to some girls from the office, and apparently business isn't going too well. I guess now that the bees have left the nest, the queen actually has to do some work herself."
I know what she means. Natasha never came to fairs, only her employees. She still has about seven girls in the office, but the fact that she came here herself means she's desperate for clients.
"Can she really sue us?" I ask. "We've done nothing wrong."
"Absolutely not. She was just trying to intimidate you."
Still, I can't help the uneasy feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.
***
The next week is hell. Half of my clients seem to want to change their setup, and the other half seem to go out of their way to complain about something. Among all the mayhem, I pick up the keys to Christopher's apartment and make sure to prioritize it.
I encounter a few hitches along the way. Nothing more than the usual back and forth with delivery services trying to move me around for their convenience, but I ride anyone's ass who tries to wiggle their way out of my time frame.
I want everything to be perfect when Christopher returns.
On Friday afternoon, as I help the kids pack for their overnight stay at Aunt Christina's, I mull over the idea of talking to them about Christopher, telling them there's more than friendship between us. Sienna already knows, of course, but Lucas and Chloe see him as a family friend.
There's a healthy dose of hero-worshipping involved too, especially on Lucas's part. After running the pros and cons in my mind, I decide to keep quiet on this topic, mostly because I can't answer the questions Lucas would surely ask. I don't have answers. I just know I can't wait to see Christopher tonight. I miss him so much it scares me.
Part of me also can't help drowning in guilt, remembering Lucas and Chloe's apprehensive expressions when they asked if I'm still going to look after them when I have my own kids. My heart squeezes, their little faces appearing clearly in my mind. I wonder if I shouldn't press pause on things with Christopher. Then our therapist's words replay in my mind, that it's important to carry on as normal, not put my life on hold. That the kids, even Chloe, are old enough to understand certain issues if properly explained. Drawing in a deep breath, I hold on to those words, but I have a hard time ignoring the suspicion that I'm being selfish.
"Victoria," Chloe says, snapping me out of my mental drama. "Can I take Mr. Cuddles with me to Aunt Christina's?"
"Sure thing. Let's pack him too."
My phone vibrates just as I finish zipping up Chloe's backpack.
Christopher: Can't wait to see you tonight. So happy this trip is over.
The plan is as follows. I'll drive to the airport with the kids in the car and pick up Christopher. We'll drop them off at Aunt Christina's, and then I'll drive him to his fully furnished apartment. Since I have his keys, it makes sense for me to drive him there. In addition, I had his car brought to the garage underneath his building. Also, I have a surprise for him. Initially, I wanted to first drop the kids off and then pick up Christopher, but they wouldn't hear of it. Chloe says she must tell him about the new superhero cape she made for her doll. Lucas insists he tells him about some soccer techniques he learned at school.
"Can I take my prank box to Aunt Christina's?" Lucas asks as we load the backpacks in the car.
"That’s not such a good idea, champ."
He sticks out his bottom lip, frowning. "But Chloe’s allowed to take her teddy bear."
"The bear is smaller than your box." The second I say it out loud, I know I chose the wrong words.
"Then I can just take my spider or my skeleton mask. It's Halloween."
"You already have your costumes with you for trick-or-treating. And Aunt Christina doesn't like getting scared much." With a stroke of genius, I add, "But you know who does? Christopher! Why don't you take something to scare him?"
"Really?"
"Yeah. He'll love it." He's the one who said there's nothing like a prank to make his day better, and from his message, I can tell he needs cheering up. "But maybe not the spider or the skeleton mask. Something more creative?"
Lucas practically flies back inside the house.
Half an hour later, I'm speeding on toward the airport. The kids are in the back, suspiciously silent. Lucas refuses to tell me what he has in store for Christopher, though I have a hunch the girls know. My stomach twists and turns with anticipation the closer we get to the airport. I took an inordinate amount of time dressing, second-guessing every choice. I ended up wearing jeans and a figure-hugging sweater, which shows enough cleavage to entice. Now I'm second-guessing the choice again, feeling silly. We didn't make plans for the evening beyond me driving him to his apartment. Oh, there was plenty of banter and insinuations, but nothing more substantial.
For all I know, he could have plans with his family for tonight. I mean, he was gone for two weeks. What are the chances of him wanting to spend his first night back at home with me?
"Seems like we're here a bit early," I say, pulling into the airport parking lot.
"Half an hour. Someone was eager," Sienna comments with a knowing smile.
"I didn't know how bad the traffic would be at this time," I mumble.
"That would be more believable if you wouldn't actually spend half of your working time driving through the city."
We spend the spare time talking about their plans for tonight at Aunt Christina's, and when Christopher texts, letting me know he’s landed, we climb out of the car and wait for him in front of the parking lot. When he joins us, my heart all but leaps out of my chest. Chloe jumps straight in his arms, while Lucas talks his ear off about soccer. Sienna just glances between Christopher and me, suppressing a grin.
“C
ome on, let’s go back to the car,” I say loudly. Sienna walks away with Chloe, Lucas tagging after them.
“Welcome back,” I tell Christopher, suddenly feeling shy.
“Thanks for picking me up. You—”
A sound pierces the crisp air, a sharp wail that sounds almost inhuman. Except it is human, because I know the voice, even distorted by pain as it is. It belongs to Lucas. Whipping around, I see my brother a few feet behind, his left arm covered in blood. There is so much blood; he must have cut an artery, but how? A shard of glass lies at his feet, one of its edges dipped in blood.
Panic numbs my reflexes, freezes my breath in my lungs. Christopher is already halfway to Lucas by the time my legs move, carrying me forward.
"Call an ambulance," Christopher barks at me over his shoulder. His voice reaches me even through the haze of horror, and with trembling hands, I take the phone out of my pocket. The tremor grows so intense that I drop my phone.
"Where did you hurt yourself?" Christopher asks Lucas. "Where is the cut?"
Lucas's answer is another scream. I almost faint while ducking to pick up my phone from the concrete.
"Lucas, I know it hurts," Christopher says calmly, “but I need you to tell me where the cut is so I can try to stop the bleeding."
I'm dialing the emergency number when the screaming stops, laughter replacing it. Sienna and Chloe are holding their bellies, guffawing like I've never seen them. Lucas is jumping up and down, wiping tears of laughter with both hands. Both uninjured hands.
Christopher looks from Lucas to me and then back at Lucas, raising his arms in bewilderment.
"What is going on?" he asks.
I have no answer, shock still gripping my body.
"That was a prank," Sienna says between guffaws. Turning to Lucas, she adds, "Told you it might be a bit too much."
Christopher recovers first. "Fake blood?"
"Yes," Lucas confirms, drawing in deep breaths to calm himself down. "And fake glass." He picks up the shard at his feet, holding it out proudly. "It comes in a kit. It's the first time I used it. Victoria, you said I should be creative."
"Without giving anyone a heart attack," I say. Thank God no one else was around us, or they would’ve had a heart attack too.
Christopher is grinning now, shaking his head at Lucas. "Kid, you've got me there. And you have a weird sense of humor."
Sienna rolls her eyes. "You're such adults. I was expecting better of you, Christopher."
"Okay, why don't we get in the car and drive to Aunt Christina's?” I ask, still shaking a little. “We're going to be late otherwise, and that's not polite."
Chapter Seventeen
Victoria
After dropping off the kids at Aunt Christina’s, we walk back to the car side by side, Christopher chuckling to himself. God, I love that sound. I missed it while he was gone. He laughed often enough when we talked on the phone, but being next to him turns it into a whole new experience because Christopher laughs with his whole body. It's contagious; the grin on my face can attest to that. We recovered from the shock completely somewhere on the road.
The air between us is light and playful, right until he places his hand at the small of my back. Energy strums through me at the contact, spreading everywhere, making my heart somersault and my toes curl. Damn, damn, damn…. This man lights up my body without even trying. Out of the corner of my eye, I peek at him, trying to gauge whether he's aware of the sudden change between us or if I'm the only one feeling naughty.
His mouth has curled into a smirk that indicates he's very pleased with himself. Aha! I'm definitely not the only one with X-rated thoughts.
"I still can't get over Lucas's sense of humor," he remarks just as we reach the car. He opens the door for me, but I don't climb inside just yet. "Too much on the morbid side, I have to say. I'm sure if I look closely, I'll find some white hair. Those were some of the most terrible seconds of my life." His smile falters, his gaze clouding with worry. I want to kiss that worry away, to hug and thank him for being so strong in a moment of—fake—need. He was so composed, where I was so lost and scared. Usually, I rise up to any challenge, and I can count on myself to react swiftly, but all I could think at that moment was that I couldn’t lose Lucas like I lost my parents. Christopher was calm and in charge, and it felt so good to have someone to count on.
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I decide to keep all this to myself instead of thanking him. Since none of that danger was real, I'd sound silly.
"Should have made him tell me what he was planning," is all I say.
"You put him up to it?"
"Yes. You seemed down when you messaged me, and you did say pranks cheer you up. So, I thought…." I shrug, licking my lower lip, acutely aware of the short distance between us. Christopher reaches out to me, dragging his knuckles across my cheek. I barely hold back from turning his palm up and burying my cheek in it.
"You're one hell of a woman, Victoria." He scrutinizes me in a way he never has before. The intensity in his gaze smolders. Without another word, I lower myself into the driver's seat. The second he climbs in the car as well, the air thickens with tension.
"Excited to see your apartment?" I ask, gunning the engine, rolling my shoulders when the car lurches forward.
"If you come up with me, yeah."
"Of course I'll come upstairs." I focus on the road, my voice even. "I need to give you a tour."
"Of my own apartment?"
"Yeah," I continue undeterred. "I need to show you how to use the appliances and—"
"Make sure I really know how to open and close the drawers? Sit on the couch?"
"You woke up with an extra dose of smartass," I remark, enjoying this immensely.
"Nah, I stocked up on it on the plane. Come to think of it, you're right. You absolutely have to give me a tour."
"Why the sudden change of heart?"
"There're some things I definitely need your help testing." He leans closer to me, dropping his voice to a whisper. "The bed, the shower."
"Personally, I was hoping we could test the kitchen counter. Always been a fantasy of mine."
My words are met with silence, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice his lips part open in shock.
"It's good to have you back, Christopher."
He grunts something I can't quite make out, and I'm so proud I managed to unhinge him for once that it's almost silly.
When we arrive, I park on the side street adjacent to his building. He takes his large suitcase from the back, and I lead the way inside. The concierge, Tom, greets me from behind the reception desk, flashing me a conspiratorial smile.
"I see you and Tom are friends already," Christopher says once we're in the elevator, and I think I detect a hint of jealousy in his tone. It delights me.
"I found out early on that the fastest way to get things done quickly is to have the people you work with like you. Also, I genuinely like people."
Butterflies roam in my stomach once we step out of the elevator on his floor, and telling myself I'm being ridiculous is futile. I'm not usually nervous when I show clients the outcome because I'm confident in my work. I am now too, but this is important to Christopher, and he's important to me. Also, I have a surprise waiting for him.
The first inkling that things won't go as planned is the smell of burned pastry assaulting my nostrils when we step inside the apartment.
"What the—" Christopher begins, but I hurry to the kitchen before he has the chance to finish the sentence. Sure enough, smoke comes out of the oven. I turn it off, opening the window and then, after a brief hesitation, open the oven too. A thick cloud of smoke comes out, and I duck away from it, hoping it'll go out the window and won't trigger the fire alarm. Yeah, my cookies are burned to a crisp. I almost want to cry in frustration.
Resigned that I have to throw them away, I turn around to face Christopher, who's standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching me with an expression somewhere between amused and incredu
lous. He dropped his suitcase next to the pile of boxes containing all his belongings, which still have to be unpacked.
"Victoria?"
"You said you'd like for your apartment to smell like cookies, so I thought I'd surprise you. It was physically impossible for me to actually be here while they baked, and I didn't want to bake them before because they'd be cold. So I asked Tom to start the oven half an hour before and gave him instructions, but he set the temperature far too high. Not to be sexist or anything, but I'm never letting a man anywhere near my cookies ever again."
Christopher is silent, but I think if he fights the laughter much longer, he'll crack a rib.
"Go on, laugh," I encourage. "I'd do the same if I weren't so disappointed."
Taking my hand, he leads me away from the smelly kitchen, which is probably a good thing. Except that the smell’s spread to the whole living room, and I know it'll take days for him to get it out. Just the perfect welcome gift. Opening the doors to the balcony, we step outside into the crisp, fresh air. Even with my jacket on, I feel a little cold.
"Why are you so upset about this?" Christopher asks as I lean against the wall, watching the city lights. He's not inspecting the balcony or admiring the view. He's watching me, and I feel sillier by the second.
"Because I wanted the first night in your new home to be perfect."
"It is."
"Your living room smells like someone set it on fire."
"But you're here. That more than balances it out."
Ah, I thought I'd seen every single type of smile this man has to offer until now, but I was wrong. His entire expression lights up, and he gives off a kind of exuberance I want to bottle and carry with me everywhere.
"I thought about you constantly this week." He caresses my jaw with his thumb, a slow, deliberate movement. "All I could think about every night was seeing you when I got back. Whatever this is between us, I don't want to let it go, not before we try and see where it leads."
