Cold As January

by Katie Graykowski

  He had to see January. It was important.

  She was going to have their baby.

  He hadn’t seen that one coming. They’d always used protection, but clearly that wasn’t one hundred percent reliable.

  He was prepared to take responsibility.

  He always took responsibility.

  He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t taken responsibility.

  His own father certainly hadn’t, and that was why Giles had lived hand to mouth, scraping together rent money so he and his father could keep the rundown single-wide roof over their heads. Being a painter—canvas not house—never paid the bills. Yes, responsibility was important.

  And he just needed to see January. He missed her.

  He gritted his teeth. Clearly, she didn’t feel the same way about him.

  Intellectually, he knew January was too young for him, but the time he’d spent with her had been the happiest of his life. She’d been his guilty pleasure.

  He finger-combed his perfectly cropped hair and tried not to think about all of the gray. When they’d first started dating, he’d thought briefly about having the gray colored out of his dark-blond hair, but he’d never been vain. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his perfectly knotted gray silk tie. His Armani suit and matching tie weren’t about appearance, but control. If he looked the part of the successful doctor, no one would ever know that he’d come from nothing.

  January was out of his life. Her cold silence spoke volumes. She’d frozen him out. When he looked at it objectively, it was for the best. She had been a distraction. Now he could return to his research and his practice, the things he truly loved. He scrubbed at his jaw. She’d been more than a distraction.

  January. The loss of her hurt down to his soul—or it would have, if he’d had a soul. He didn’t believe in love. He believed in companionship, work, even kindness to a certain extent, but love wasn’t something he’d ever experienced firsthand. Sure, he loved his daughter, but he’d never been in love with anyone. But if romantic love did exist, what he felt for January was as close as he’d ever gotten.

  Now that he thought about it, everything had worked out for the best. She was better off without him. She would have the baby and then probably find a man who was her own age. They’d get married and have the traditional life January had always wanted.

  A primal growl roared out of his mouth. His hands fisted. The thought of her with another man made him want to punch something. He’d never been a violent man, but violence was starting to seem like a good idea.

  He was better off without her. Then why was he waiting for the elevator in the lobby of his daughter’s office building just to find out if she’d spoken with January. Was January okay? Was the baby healthy? How far along was she? Did she know the baby’s sex? Did she ever want to see him again? His life rarely had question marks and now there were several. He hated leaving things unresolved.

  His being there was completely unreasonable. He’d been perfectly content with his life before he’d started spending time with January, and he would be perfectly content once he stopped thinking about her.

  That was it.

  He was done.

  She was officially off his mind.

  There. Now he no longer wanted to see her.

  What was taking the damn elevator so long? There were only four floors—why was it taking hours to get here?

  He could take the steps, but four flights … not recommended for someone who’d had both ACLs replaced. He liked his knees and wasn’t interested in replacing them anytime soon. Sure, he replaced knees for a living, but that didn’t mean he wanted new ones.

  He just needed to see January.

  If this was love, it was terrible. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t work.

  Finally, the elevator dinged and the doors rolled open.

  He stepped inside the empty elevator and pushed number four and then the close-door button.

  Eons passed while the door closed. What if … just what if they could be together? She’d want to get married. January was traditional that way. She’d want to get married, move into his house, and raise the baby together.

  He’d never thought to marry again. His first wife, Marjorie, hadn’t been about love so much as companionship and common ground. They were both orthopedic surgeons—she was world renowned for back surgery and he for sports medicine. They’d decided to merge their two medical practices and their lives. Love hadn’t been a consideration.

  If January moved in, he could keep an eye on her, but she would be living with him. That meant she’d want to move all of his things around. He liked his life and his house orderly. He’d seen the inside of her condo. Orderly wasn’t the word he’d use to describe it. Still, the baby was his. He’d never shirked his duty and he wasn’t about to start now.

  The elevator dinged for the fourth floor and the doors rolled open. He stepped into the hall outside his daughter’s practice. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar blonde ponytail disappeared into the elevator next to his. January’s floral scent lingered on the air. He spun and lunged at the elevator as the door rolled shut. All he’d gotten was her profile.

  He ran for the stairs. He bounded down them two at a time. His legs swallowed up flights like a twenty-year-old decathlete. He made it out of the lobby and into the parking lot just in time to see her slide into her Nissan Leaf. He ran after her, but by the time he got to her car, she was pulling out into traffic.

  Should he follow her? That was a little stalker-esque, and he would never make it to his car in time to keep up with her. He made his way back into his daughter’s office building. Maybe he could talk her into having January call him. In the least, he needed to make sure January and the baby were fine.

  He rode the elevator back up to the fourth floor, threw open the door to his daughter’s medical practice, strode past the stalky receptionist, and opened the door to Laney’s personal office. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I need a father who isn’t an asshole. It looks like we’re both going to be disappointed.” Laney stood, crossed her arms, and glared at him. “Leave January alone or I’ll tell her brothers that you’re the one who got her pregnant.”

  Laney had never spoken to him like this. He wasn’t sure what to do. January’s brothers? “I don’t understand. Why would I care if you told her brothers that I’m her baby’s father?”

  Laney’s mouth curled into a smile. “Did she ever tell you what Bru and March do for a living?”

  “No.” Why were they even talking about January’s brothers. Who cared about them? He wanted to see January. He needed to make sure she was okay.

  “They run the Devil’s Bastards motorcycle club. Think Sons of Anarchy without the lovable vulnerable side. They raised January and they take her happiness and well-being very seriously. They’re not going to like the fact that you got her pregnant and then hung up on her when she told you.”

  “I didn’t hang up on her.” Was that what January thought? “My service dropped. I was in Geneva.”

  “Even if your phone did drop the call, I know for a fact they have excellent cell and landline service in Geneva. You could have called her back.” Laney’s glare turned angrier. “Or flown home.”

  “I did call her back. Several times. She blocked my calls. I couldn’t fly home because I was the keynote speaker and I was presenting our research. My research partner fell ill and wasn’t able to make the trip. I had obligations. I couldn’t just leave.”

  “Why didn’t you call her from the hotel?” Laney didn’t look like she was buying his version of the story for one minute. “She couldn’t have blocked the hotel number.”

  He’d known January was angry with him, based on the call blocking, and he’d thought it would be a good idea to give her some cooling-down time. “I was counting on seeing her when I got home. Now she won’t see me. Or that’s the party line. I wouldn’t know because I haven’t seen her.” If Laney wouldn’t help him
, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he was going to see January and that was all there was to it. He’d have to make Laney understand. “I knew January was mad about the dropped call, so I wanted to give her some time to cool down.”

  Laney stared at him blank faced. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something and then closed it again.

  After a full minute, she dropped her arms to her sides and sat. “You really don’t know the first thing about women, do you?”

  “That’s not true.” He knew everything about women. He was a doctor. He was well versed in female anatomy.

  “Until now, I just thought you were a cold bastard. Now I’m beginning to see that you’re just a clueless narcissist.” Laney’s tone was more clinical than judgmental.

  Normally, he wouldn’t let anyone, especially his daughter, get away with speaking to him in that way, but these weren’t normal circumstances. “Has January said anything about me?”

  “No, would you like for me to pass her a note in gym class?” Laney rolled her eyes.

  When had she become sarcastic? He hadn’t raised her to speak that way to him. He blamed her new fiancé, Devon Harding. Clearly his influence was causing his daughter to be rude.

  He couldn’t work up the energy to throw her an icy glare, so he let it pass. “She won’t see me. I need to tell her that I take full responsibility for the baby. As you know, I take my responsibilities seriously.”

  “As one of your responsibilities, I know exactly how seriously you take them.” Laney turned to her laptop and began typing. “Leave January alone. She’s better off without you. Until you see a child as more than just a responsibility, I can’t help you. January’s child doesn’t need you. Please go.” She continued to stare at the computer screen.

  His daughter was dismissing him. He’d never been dismissed—at least, not since the days before he’d dragged himself out of the trailer park and become a doctor.

  He wasn’t sure what to do.

  Did he leave, or was this some sort of test? If he persisted, would that help the situation or only make things worse? He wasn’t used to feeling indecisive.

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” Laney pointed to her closed office door. “Get out.”

  It took a few beats for her words to sink in.

  “Okay, I’m going.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll come by later in the week when you’re in a more reasonable mood.”

  “I’m perfectly reasonable now. Don’t come back to my office. Don’t call me, text me, or contact me in any way. I am no longer your responsibility. Apparently, responsibility was the only connection we ever had. Thanks to Devon, I now know what it feels like to be loved, and I know how a parent should love their child. We don’t have that bond and I’m tired of feeling guilty about it. I’ve done nothing to you except exist. I’ve reached out to you all of my life, and all I’ve gotten is bitter, cold, scathing criticism. I won’t let you make another child feel as small and unwanted as you have made me feel all of my life. We’re done. Goodbye.”

  Her words left him speechless. He didn’t know what to say. Feeling dazed, he turned on his heel and walked out of his daughter’s life.

  He might not have been father of the year, but his daughter had grown up with a roof over her head, food to eat, and an education. And she hadn’t needed to live hand to mouth to get them. That was more than he’d ever had. She had been wanted. He had felt fortunate to have his daughter in his life. Or he had until now. What she’s said about him not loving her wasn’t true. He did love her. All the ways he had taken care of her had been enough to show her that, right?

  He told himself that he didn’t deserve her hatred, but deep down, he wasn’t so sure.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  January wasn’t in the mood for white linen and fine china, but Bru and March always insisted on taking her to Jeffrey’s. It was the only place she’d ever been where a single porterhouse was $165. It was just a steak. For that much money it should at least come with a baked potato and a side of diamonds, but no, the only thing that came with the steak was the plate that held it.

  God forbid they should eat at her bar. After all, last year the Texas Embassy had been awarded the title of having one of the best cheeseburgers on the planet by Texas Monthly. And yet her brothers didn’t think that was good enough for her.

  She rolled her eyes as she parked and got out of her car. Once, they’d threatened to beat the crap out of one of her high school boyfriends because he’d had the audacity to take her to a restaurant with paper napkins.

  The maître d’ rushed to open the door for her. “Hello, Ms. Jenkowski, I was delighted to see you on the reservation list for this evening. I have the Napoleon Room all set for you and your brothers.”

  January wasn’t sure whether Bru and March had actually booked the Napoleon Room or if Jeffrey’s had thought it would be safer for the rest of their clientele to be segregated from the Jenkowski family. Her brothers tended to be hard on things like china and chairs and chefs. It was probably for the best that the rest of the clientele wouldn’t be subjected to Bru and March in a full rage when she told them she was pregnant and going to be a single mother.

  “Thank you.” She could never remember the maître d’s name, and of course he wasn’t wearing a name tag.

  “Here we are.” He waited at the open door to the Napoleon Room. “Your brothers have yet to arrive.”

  She stepped into the room and smelled Pine-Sol and pretentiousness.

  The snooty wood-paneled private dining room looked into a snooty wine storage room. January didn’t get people’s obsession with wine. Yes, they had wine at her bar, it was a bar, but the wine list consisted of a red, a white, a rosé, and a sparkling. Give her a good, cold Shiner Bock and she was a happy girl. At the thought, drool pooled in her mouth. She hadn’t had a beer or any other alcoholic beverage since she’d found out about Baby Jenkowski.

  The maître d’ pulled out a chair for her. “Would you care for some water or a cocktail while you wait?”

  “Water with lime.” Her stomach rumbled. “Some ham-and-Gruyère croquettes would be nice.”

  “I’ll put the order in right away. Just to let you know, we did get in some amazing Tsar Imperial Ossetra Caviar this morning.” He closed his eyes as if the mere mention of it required a prayer of thanks.

  On her mental list of things to never put in her mouth again, caviar was right below used chewing gum scraped off the floor of a truck stop bathroom. “I’ll just stick with the croquettes for now, thanks.”

  She slid into the chair.

  “Lauren will be your private waitperson for the evening. She’ll be right in with your water.” The nameless maître d’ closed the door after him.

  January rolled her eyes at the glass wall separating her from the wine. She counted the rows and then the columns of wine. There had to be close to five hundred bottles in there. That seemed like a lot of inventory to have on hand. If the average bottle of wine was one hundred dollars—and she knew some were much, much more—at one hundred dollars a bottle, that meant there was at least fifty grand in wine. Assuming the markup was twice the cost, that meant that Jeffrey’s had at least $25,000 tied up in wine. Was there really that much money to be made in wine?

  Maybe she should look into carrying more wine.

  She analyzed the glass-enclosed room. That looked complicated and expensive. Beer was cheaper, sold really well, and tasted just fine. She could practically taste a cold Shiner flowing down her throat. Lauren-the-waitperson better bring the ham croquettes pronto or January might go all hangry pregnant rage on all of those glittering bottles of wine.

  Baby Jenkowski wanted ham croquettes right now.

  The door swung open on well-oiled hinges and a short, middle-aged blonde with a broad smile waltzed in with a glass of water in one hand and a plate of croquettes in the other. She placed the plate in the center of the table and set the water next to January. “Here
you go.”

  January pulled the plate to her and shoved an entire croquette into her mouth.

  “I see you’re hungry.” Lauren watched wide-eyed as January scarfed down all of the croquettes. “Would you like for me to bring you another order?”

  January nodded and gave her a double thumbs-up. Her mouth was so full that she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d tried.

  “Right away.” Lauren picked up the empty plate and was out of the room and closing the door before January had finished chewing.

  All food tasted so much better than before she was pregnant. She gulped down the entire glass of water.

  Now that Baby Jenkowski had a taste of ham croquettes to whet his or her appetite, January was ravenous. How could eating actually make her hungrier?

  Ten minutes and another order of croquettes later, January was seriously considering the budget-busting and gut-busting porterhouse when the door opened and in walked Bru and March. Bru was five ten and all stocky muscle, while March was six three and lanky. Bru’s mother was rumored to have been into women’s wrestling before she’d OD’d on heroine. March and January’s mother had been a tall, lanky, blonde surfer girl from Cali who had also OD’d on heroine.

  “There’s our baby sister.” March put her in a headlock and gave her a noogie.

  Bru flicked March in the ear. “Leave her alone.”

  “Ouch. What’s the big deal? I’m just having a little fun.” March rubbed his ear. “That hurt.”

  Bru practically pulled her out of her chair and tried to hug the life out of her. “What’s wrong? You only call when something’s wrong.”

  January had hoped to wait until the main course to break the news, but she could see her brothers weren’t going to wait that long. She stepped back from Bru’s hug and put both of her hands out in front of her. “You have to promise not to get mad. I have some news. Good news, actually.” She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. “I’m pregnant. You’re going to be uncles.”

  Bru’s face screwed up like he was waiting for the full meaning of her words to settle in.