[Love in New York 01.0] Lost and Found

by Elle Casey

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  I HAND HIM A TOWEL I found in one of the baby bags to wipe the baby’s face and his back with and then stand in front of him with my arms crossed. “Spill it, mister.”

  “Spill what?” he tries to wipe his back, unsuccessfully. Holding a baby and reaching around his body requires more coordination than he has, apparently.

  I take the towel away from him and push him so he’s turned around, facing the wall.

  “Don’t play games. Tell me how you know my aliases.”

  “It’s not big deal. It’s not like I had to play Sherlock Holmes. After I saw you in the hospital, I checked to see who you were. I thought you were following me. The front desk told me the names you used and the fact that you were visiting your father.” He turns his head to look at me. “They also said you had a husband.”

  I wave him off. “Ah, that was just a story I told them.”

  “You tell a lot of stories,” he says, turning back around to face me more fully. Cassie is asleep in his arms.

  “I do have a little issue with stress.” I look down at our feet. I’m so glad I painted my toenails the other day. I don’t want him thinking I’m really a derelict, even if my apartment is kind of awful and I can’t afford it.

  “What kind of issue?” he asks.

  “I tend to lie when I’m freaking out. It’s no big deal. I also get itchy.”

  “Have you been lying to me all this time?” he asks. He looks sad.

  “No, of course not.” I frown at him for a second. “Just about the Shay Dee thing. I’m not really a rapper. And my name’s just Leah, not Leah Betty. And my last name isn’t Wallace either. The man in the hospital isn’t my father. He’s just a friend.”

  He laughs. “Are you sure you’re not a rapper? Because you sure looked like one.”

  I smile, proud he can appreciate my thrift-shopping skills. “I know, right? I thought about busting out a rhyme while I was in your office, but I was afraid your secretary would recognize me.”

  “Recognize you? From where?”

  “I came to your office before. She wouldn’t let me in. She was a real bitch, if you want to know the truth. If I were you, I’d hire someone nicer.”

  “You interested?” he asks. “Because the position is open.” He’s smiling when he says it but then his face goes slack. A panicked look replaces the former smile.

  I laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I am.” He laughs too, pointing at me. “Ha, gotcha. You thought I was serious.”

  For some reason his joke starts to hurt. “I would be a good secretary, you know.”

  “Yeah, right. Okay.” He puts Cassie down on the couch and steps around me.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Changing my clothes. Keep an eye on her would you?”

  He disappears before I can answer, and I stand there in the middle of his living room. My body is stock still, but my mind is racing. I could totally leave without the ring and disappear forever. He doesn’t know my real name, he doesn’t know where I work, and it sounds like his secretary would tell him to go screw himself if he tried to get my contact information out of her. I could be home free!

  But then I look down at that helpless baby he just left on the couch and my gaze slides over to her stuff. I don’t see a crib or a stroller or anything he’s going to need to take care of her properly. I’m no baby expert, but is this even safe? Leaving a single guy who has no clue with a helpless infant alone for two whole days? And why do I care? She’s not my baby. This isn’t my life.

  The answer comes to me like a bolt out of the blue. This part of my karmic test! It’s all about making the right choices!

  But how do I pass this frigging test? Leave and move on with my life or stay and help him at least get past dinner? Argh, I hate having a conscience.

  “I have a proposition for you!” he says from the other room.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not interested,” I yell back. That’s a lie, but for some reason I like messing with him.

  “I need to go to the baby store. Get some stuff for Cassie. Feel like riding along? I can drop you off at your place after.”

  Yeah, right. Like I’m that gullible.

  “Sorry, but I’m busy. I have to get going. It was nice talking to you, Boo.” I grab my black bag and shove everything but the ring that’s sitting on the coffee table in it.

  James’s voice comes to me from a very close distance. “You still haven’t tried the ring on. A deal’s a deal.”

  I sigh loudly. “What difference does it make?”

  James is back in the room. He walks around the opposite side of the couch to stand near Cassie. I look up to see him staring down at me. “Just do it. What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.” Now that he says it, I realize that I may actually be afraid of something. Being in his apartment, seeing him standing there like a big bear — the grizzly dangerous kind — being all sexy and now clothed in a clean shirt and jeans … yeah. I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to start entertaining the idea of keeping the money he’s offering. For sure I’d be a prostitute then.

  “Then put it on.” He reaches down and picks it up, holding it out between us.

  Chapter Sixty

  SHE LETS ME SLIDE THE ring on her finger.

  I shouldn’t have done it. I knew that before I did it and when I saw the look on her face — an expression that probably mirrored my own — I knew it even more clearly after. But it’s too late now.

  “They weren’t kidding at Cartier, were they?” she says in a low tone. She looks like she’s having trouble swallowing.

  “Kidding?” I ask.

  “When they said no woman could resist a gorgeous diamond.”

  Her words startle me. They weren’t what I was expecting. “Does that mean you’ll keep it?” I feel almost bereft at the idea of our liaison ending so quickly and easily. I think I was looking forward to more crazy shenanigans from her.

  When I admit that to myself, I realize how much she’s colored my gray days of late. I’ve almost managed to forget my wayward brother and the hopeless cloud that surrounds our lives while she’s been here.

  “Hell no.” She grabs it with her other hand and pulls on it.

  Relief floods through me.

  Obviously I’m losing my mind.

  “It’s not mine. Never was.” She puts the ring down on the coffee table. “You should give it to your ex. Let her figure out what to do with it.”

  “No, that’s impossible. She’ll get the wrong idea.” Not to mention the fact that there’s no way in hell I’m going to give her another penny of my money. That I would happily give it to this near-stranger does not escape my notice, however.

  Leah stands. “Okay, well, I should probably get going.”

  “Get going?” Panic hits me again. I’m sure it’s because I need her help at the baby store. “I thought you were going to Baby Land with me.”

  “Baby Land? Is that even a place?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s that super store with all the baby furniture and toys in it.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you mean Babies-R-Us.”

  I point at her. “See? You know this stuff. I don’t. Come with me. Help me shop for Cassie.”

  Her gaze slides over to the baby. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

  “Maybe. But do we want to take that chance when there’s an innocent child involved? Probably not.” I give her my best panty-dropping smile.

  “When you grin at me like that it makes me want to punch you in the face.”

  My smile disappears in a second. “Really? Hmmm.” I frown. Never in my life have I ever gotten negative feedback with that move. “I usually have a lot of success with that one.”

  She shrugs. “Probably with the same people who think white carpet is a good idea.”

  I look around me, wondering if the entire world thinks this way and I’ve been foolin
g myself, or if it’s just her. “Anything else I should know about myself before we go?”

  She blinks a couple times, but then goes right ahead and answers, as if my question weren’t rhetorical.

  “Well, if you really want to know, you’re also very stand-offish, your clothes are boring, and your cologne reminds me of my dead uncle.”

  I should probably hate every second of this, but I don’t. I find it fascinating. No one has ever said anything to me like this. Ever.

  “What about my hair?” I ask. “Anything wrong with my hair?”

  She looks up at my head. “No, it’s pretty nice. Sometimes a little too perfect, but I get that that’s your style, as misguided as it is.”

  “What? Perfection? That’s my style?” I’m kind of flattered by that, actually.

  “Yeah. But don’t look so happy about it. It’s like the stick-up-your butt, my poo doesn’t stink, I never walk out the door without spending an hour in front of the mirror first, kind of perfection. It’s not really a compliment.”

  I have nothing to say to that. Everyone I know would counsel me to ignore what I’m hearing, that the words coming from a half-homeless hippy chick are not things I should be taking to heart. But I remember one person saying something to me once, back in med school — a person who I respected and loved a lot — that really nailed me hard. She actually hurt my feelings, Laura did, when she made an offhand comment once about how I tried too hard to be someone my father would respect. At the time, all I did was argue against her inside my head. But today, when listening to Leah rail against my entire life’s choices, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve had my priorities pointed in the wrong direction for a really long time.

  What? How is this even possible? Why am I giving any weight at all to the words of a madwoman? I must have man-flu or something. That’s what my sister calls it when a guy gets a head cold. I have no idea why man-flu is different from lady-flu, but she insists it is.

  Leah is smiling and waiting for my reaction.

  “Okay, so what you’re saying is, I’m a complete asshole. Thanks for the personality inventory.” Done for the moment worrying about my deficiencies, I walk around to the other side of the room and start searching bags, trying to figure out if I can get out the door with just one of them containing everything I need. I can’t imagine that Jana goes out during the day with seven cases of baby junk.

  “I didn’t mean you’re an asshole,” Leah says behind me.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re right.” Maybe someday I’ll reevaluate my life and choose to make some changes, but that’s not going to happen tonight. Tonight I need to buy a crib and God knows what else before the store closes.

  She bends over next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I have diarrhea of the mouth, which is a fault, I know. I shouldn’t have said those things. I know what it’s like to be criticized by jerks. I don’t want to be the jerk.”

  Pausing in my search, I turn my head to look at her. She’s just inches away and I can see how plump her lovely lips are. No surgeon’s knife could ever come close to mimicking that perfection. I wonder how her mouth would feel against mine. Against other parts of me…

  I pull my gaze away so I can focus on what needs to be said, since I know there’s no chance in hell I’m getting under that red dress tonight.

  “You were being honest,” I say. “Your words weren’t tainted by greed, desire, or ulterior motives, so they’re real. I appreciate that. People being real with me, I mean.” Because I’m feeling a little bit choked up — yeah, I definitely have man-flu — I stop there and continue looking for diapers and wet towelettes, formula, and another fresh bottle.

  Leah squeezes my shoulder. “Maybe it was too real. Or not real enough. I think I was retaliating against your secretary or something.”

  I stop my search again to look at her. “Veronica? What did she do to you?” I want to fire that bitch all over again after seeing the look on Leah’s face. I’d wager she doesn’t get upset often; she seems more like the live and let live type. But tonight, she’s definitely stressed about something that secretary said.

  “I don’t know that she did anything really. She just kind of treated me like a third class citizen or something.” She shrugs. “I don’t know why I let it get to me. Maybe because of Larry.”

  Now I really am stopping with the bottle hunt. Who’s Larry? Her boyfriend?

  “Larry?” I ask, unable to quench my curiosity with the common sense argument that I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass who this guy is.

  She stands up. “Never mind. I’ll go to the store with you. What are you doing right now, anyway?”

  I’m distracted from my interrogation by the outline of a bottle pushing from the inside of a bag. Score! “I’m getting one bag together with all the stuff Cassie will need, just in case she wakes up.”

  “You got a firehose in there?” she asks, laughing.

  I look at her with questions in my eyes.

  “For hosing her down. When she has a blow-out like she had earlier.”

  I smile back at her. “I’ll look for one, but something tells me my sister is better at the diaper changing than we are. I doubt she packed a firehose.”

  Leah points at my face. “That’s a real smile. Very charming.” She grins and stands up. “Let’s do this mother.” She walks over to the front door and opens it up.

  “You get the bag and I’ll get the baby?” I shove a couple other things into the bag with the bottle and hold it out at her.

  “Deal.” She slides her feet into her shoes before taking it from me.

  I gather Cassie’s sleeping form into my arms and snag the carseat on my way past it.

  “Do you want to lock the door?” Leah asks as I head to the elevator.

  “Here, you do it.” I toss her my keys. “Hurry. I don’t want that store closing before we get there.”

  After putting the carseat on the ground, I pull my cell out of my pocket and make a quick call to the lobby. “Yes, Emilio, could you please get a limo for me? I have some shopping to do.” I nod at his positive response and put my phone away.

  Leah’s staring at me. “We’re going in a limo?”

  I look at the baby, the bag, and the carseat. “You have any better ideas?”

  She shakes her head, a grin coming to her face. “I’m totally having a Pretty Woman moment right now.”

  “Whatever that is,” I say, shaking my head at her lunacy. One minute she’s haranguing me about my choice of wardrobe and decor, the next she’s acting like I just bought her a birthday present at Bergdorf. I need to stop expecting her to make sense.

  She waves her hands at me. “Wait! You have to say, ‘Vivienne, stop fidgeting.’”

  “Who’s Vivienne?” If she keeps flapping her hands like that she’s going to fly away. I can’t help but smile at her mania.

  “Just say it, dope!”

  I roll my eyes but decide that appeasing her is probably going to be easier than getting an answer out of her. “Vivienne, stop fidgeting.”

  She squeals and then turns in circles with her arms out. “The hills are alive with the sounds of Eeeedwaaard!”

  The elevator arrives and the doors open. She jumps in and continues her spinning.

  I should probably press the button for the lobby and send her down alone to be escorted out of the building, but I don’t. I go in with her and wonder what the hell else she’s going to get up to on our trip to the baby store. I find myself looking forward to finding out.

  “Boo?” she asks.

  “Yes?” I close my eyes in silent frustration as I realize I’m now answering to that ridiculous nickname.

  The elevator is whisper quiet.

  “If I forget to tell you later, I had a really fabulous time tonight.”

  “But…”

  She puts her finger on my lips to shut me up. “Just go with it, Boo. Go with it.”

  I want to grab her in my arms and kiss her stupid
, but instead I nod. Maybe later she’ll let me steal that kiss. Or maybe later I’ll smarten up and get rid of her for good. At this point I’m not sure which would be better for my future.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “SO WHO’S LARRY?” HE ASKS me as we settle into the back of the limousine.

  “Larry? Larry who?” I act like James is crazy. I really don’t want to discuss my landlord right now. Things are going so well. I don’t know if Boo realizes it or not, but that ring is on his coffee table and I’m out here in Manhattan. Woo hoo! One little shopping trip, a quick goodbye, and I’m home free. Boo yah! Problem solved! For some reason that thought doesn’t bring me as much joy as it did earlier.

  James is not so easily deterred from his questions. “I don’t know, you tell me who Larry is. You said something about him earlier.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. Is he your boyfriend?”

  Just the thought makes me nauseated. “No, Larry is most definitely not my boyfriend.” I glare at James.

  He smiles. “I thought it was ‘Larry who’. Now you admit you know him.”

  I roll my eyes and look out the window. “Aren’t you tricky, going all detective on me.”

  “If he’s your boyfriend, it’s no big deal. I’m not going to tell him you came to my place dressed to turn tricks.”

  I reach over the baby and slap his leg. “Shut up, I did not do that! I told you, this is my Chinese delivery outfit.”

  I notice the jerk driving the car glancing up in the rearview mirror checking me out, so I scowl at him too. He quickly goes back to looking at the road.

  “If he’s not your boyfriend, who is he? Your brother?”

  “No, he’s not my brother. I don’t have a brother. I’m an only child.”

  “Is he your dad?”

  “No, he’s not my dad.” This questioning session is getting really annoying, so I decide to end it. James is only interested because I’ve made it seem so mysterious. “He’s my landlord, okay? That’s it. And don’t even suggest I have something going on with him because I’ll knock your front teeth out.”