by Tia Siren
“She cooks a lot of the time,” Michael said, nodding. “But Sunday is her day off. And I like cooking anyway. It's relaxing.”
“Oh,” I said, taking a bite of my eggs Benedict, impressed with how perfectly poached they were. “Wow, this is tasty.”
“I'm glad you like it,” Michael said. “Eggs Benedict was always one of my favorites growing up, but I only ever got it when my dad was home since it was his favorite dish too. But he wasn't home very often.”
“I can't even imagine growing up like that,” I said, shaking my head. “My parents were almost always there. We still have these Sunday night dinners every week, and I'm expected to be and never miss. I think Mom would ask for a doctor's note if I told her I couldn't attend one week, that's how serious it is.”
Michael laughed. “I can't imagine that,” he said. “My parents were hardly ever around. I was raised mostly by nannies and tutors. I mean, I had everything that I could possibly want, don't get me wrong. Except there wasn't a lot of love in our house.”
I frowned. “You don't plan to raise your child like that, do you?” I asked, putting a hand protectively over my stomach, even though I didn't know if there was a baby in there or not. “I know it's none of my business, but I don't want to think of bringing a child into this world for such a heartless upbringing.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth immediately after I'd said it, feeling embarrassed. “That's not to say that your parents were heartless or that you would be as well, if that's what you're planning,” I told him quickly.
“It's okay,” Michael said, shaking his head. “That's not how I plan to bring up our child. My child.” He looked embarrassed at having let that “our” slip. Because of course, it wouldn't be our child. It was his.
I felt a pang in my heart at the very thought of that, but I chose to ignore it.
That night, I brought him to my parents' house to introduce him. I called ahead to warn Mom that I was bringing a guest, but I didn't specify who it was or what gender, and I hoped she assumed I just meant I was bringing Erica with me finally.
When she saw Michael, I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull.
“Mom, this is Michael,” I said, giving her a stern look that told her to behave herself.
“Michael, nice to meet you,” Mom said, ignoring his proffered hand and going instead for a hug that Michael awkwardly returned. “It's such a shame that Holly can't be here tonight. I'm sure she would have loved to meet you.”
Michael raised an eyebrow at me, and I blushed furiously. “Mom, why don't Michael and I go set the table?” I suggested. When it was just Michael and me in the dining room, I bit my lower lip. “Sorry about that,” I told him. “She's enthusiastic. And Holly's my younger sister. She can get out of dinners because she's basically perfect.”
“And you think you're not?” Michael asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can't remember the last time I saw my mother hug someone. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen her hug someone.”
“Oh just wait,” I told him. “You're not getting out of here without at least two more hugs. She's probably going to make you take all the leftovers home with you too, so I hope you like whatever it is she's making.”
“Linguini with clam sauce, and homemade garlic bread,” Dad supplied, entering the room. He shook hands with Michael. “Good to meet you, son,” he said. “Paige, your mother asked if you could help out in the kitchen.”
I shot Michael a look, wondering if he would be okay in there with just Dad. But he didn't look worried. I nodded and headed into the kitchen, telling him to call me if he needed anything.
“What is it, Mom?” I asked as I entered the kitchen.
Mom excitedly caught both my hands in hers. “I'm just so glad that you've found yourself a fella,” she said, beaming at me. “I'm so glad to know that you're not all alone anymore.”
I laughed. “Mom, you know I haven't been alone,” I told her. “I couldn't afford to live in New York City on my own, not with the job that I have. I'd probably have to get two more jobs to make rent. Just because you haven't met Erica yet, it doesn't mean that she doesn't exist.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Well, I know that, and I'm sure that this Erica is a very lovely girl, but you get a different sort of companionship from a girlfriend than from a lover,” she said. She glanced towards the dining room and lowered her voice. “And he is quite handsome, isn't he?”
I blushed and ducked my head. “Yeah, he's handsome,” I said.
“So, where'd you meet him?” Mom asked. “And can you chop these carrots for the salad, please?”
I started chopping the carrots. “I met him at the bar,” I admitted.
“And here you told me that you were never going to meet someone good at that bar of yours!” Mom said gleefully.
If she only knew the terms of our relationship, I thought. But I couldn't tell her about that. Even if the NDA didn't tell me to keep my mouth shut about it, I didn't want to worry her. And worry, she would, if she found out that I was hoping to get knocked up by Michael so that he could have an heir. If she found out he was paying me to have sex with him.
Yeah, my traditionalist mother probably wouldn't be too pleased to hear about that.
Fortunately, it was time to head out to the dining room. As I walked out with the salad bowl, I heard Michael and Dad chatting about Michael's businesses. I couldn't help but smile as I heard him explaining his investments to Dad, telling him all about the genetic engineering company that he was researching, as well as the youth dance organization that he had just donated a sum of money to. I felt a surge of pride, hearing how impressed Dad was.
Michael was a keeper. Unfortunately, he was way out of my league.
I suppressed a sigh, trying not to feel too mopey. This was just about getting Mom off my back for a while. Besides, Michael seemed like he was enjoying the company. He looked inquisitively over at me as I set the salad bowl on the table, and his fingers ghosted across the back of my hand, showing silent concern. I gave him a tight smile and sat down in my seat at the table.
“All right, everyone,” Mom said from her place at the head of the table. “Dig in!”
Chapter Seventeen
Michael
I found myself having a good time as the meal with Paige's parents went on. It was interesting watching her interact with them. She was much more relaxed and cheerful around them than she was at the bar or when it was just the two of us. I supposed she didn't have to deal with any sort of stress in her relationship with them.
And for their part, Maggie and Pat were incredibly warm and friendly. They reminded me of the kind of families you saw on TV sitcoms, but this was real life. The conversation flowed easily, the only snag being when Paige declined a glass of wine to go with her pasta.
“I'm not drinking at the moment,” she told her parents.
Both of them looked alarmed. “Have you been drinking too much lately?” Maggie asked concerned.
“Mom, I work in a bar; define too much,” Paige said, trying to make a joke of it. But if anything, her parents looked more worried.
“You know alcoholism runs in my side of the family,” Pat said slowly. “Now, we'd have to crunch some numbers, but if you need to go to one of those fancy rehab centers, I'm sure we could help you out.”
Paige laughed. “I'm not a celebrity, I don't need a fancy rehab center,” she said. “I'm not an alcoholic either. I read this article that your liver is even healthier if you drink moderately and then take a month off. I'm giving it a little try. That's all.”
“Okay,” Pat said, and both he and his wife looked relieved.
I watched Paige's face closely, and I could tell that she didn't like lying to them. But I didn't think either of us was ready to start talking about the pregnancy just yet. Especially when there might not even be a pregnancy.
“You know, Paige, the other day your mother and I were talking about it, and can you believe that this month, it's been ten years sinc
e we moved into this place?” Pat asked.
Paige shook her head. “I can believe that since you moved here just after I graduated from high school, but it's still crazy to think about!” she said. She looked over at me. “Growing up, the longest we lived in any one home was five years, I think. Most places, we were there for a year or two.”
“All in New York?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Maggie said. “Pat would never have stood for that. He wanted to raise cultured kids. He wanted us to move to Paris for a year, Bangkok for another year, and everywhere in between!”
“And did you?” I asked.
Pat laughed. “In the end, figuring out work visas and residency visas and which schools were the best for foreign children and all of the other logistics was just too much,” he admitted. “But we moved around the US a lot.”
“Even up to Alaska for a year,” Paige said.
Maggie shuddered just thinking about it. “That was the coldest year of my life,” she said.
I laughed. “That's neat, though,” I said. “I've lived in New York all my life, and I'll probably live here until I die. But I love it here.”
“I do too,” Paige said, smiling at me. “There wasn't any question of where I was going to go to college.”
“And we weren't going to move away from her!” Maggie said firmly, smiling over at her daughter.
“You know, I think it's great that you get together for dinners like this,” I told them. “We never had anything like this in our family. My dad traveled a lot for business, and my mom, I guess she just wasn't very interested in it.”
“That's a shame,” Pat said.
“You're welcome over here any time,” Maggie told me.
To my surprise, Paige reached over and grabbed my hand when Maggie said that. I looked over at her in surprise, but Paige withdrew her hand almost as quickly as she'd made the gesture. For a moment, I wondered whether Paige had forgotten that this relationship between us was strictly no strings attached. But from the way she was looking embarrassed and staring fixedly at her food, I could tell that even if she'd forgotten herself momentarily, she remembered the contract now. She continued eating her food, carefully not looking at me.
Maggie and Pat exchanged a glance, and I could tell that they were suspicious. I reached over and placed a hand lightly on Paige's thigh, squeezing it gently so that she smiled over at me.
“Were you lucky enough to travel with your dad, when he had work trips?” Pat asked.
“Yeah,” I said, shaken out of my thoughts. I smiled at the older man. “Especially once I got older, and it became clear that I was going to take a similar path in life, studying business and then going into investing. My father thought it would be useful for networking.”
“Was it?”
“yes, it was,” I told him. “I met the then-owner of Lincoln Hotels Corporation on one of those trips, in Paris, when I was 21, and I eventually bought his company from him. That's the main company that I own today, the one that's made me all the money that I have to invest in other companies.”
“Paris, that must have been a fun trip for a 21-year-old,” Maggie said. She sighed. “I still have never been. One of these days, though.”
It was one of those innocuous statements that made me want to call up a travel agent and book a trip for her right then. I knew I couldn't do that, though.
“Our family trips were generally here in the US, or in Canada,” Pat told me.
“Or there was that one trip to Mexico!” Paige said, and everyone started laughing.
I looked around at them, waiting for someone to share the joke. But I couldn't help thinking how nice it was, that they had inside jokes with one another, things that they could all laugh about.
“Dad bought the flights because they were on sale. He didn't research where we were going, just enough to know that wherever it was, it was meant to be warm and sunny compared to dreary Philadelphia in the spring, which was where we were at the time. And so we went to the airport and got on our flight; I still don't know how we did it since none of us had passports.”
“Back then, we could use just our licenses,” Pat said. “Security wasn't what it is today.”
“Right, so we get on our flight, and we get off at the airport, and all the signs are in Spanish, and when Dad asked at the ticket counter at the airport, the lady informed us that, yes, we had flown all the way to Mexico for a trip.”
“But the best part of that trip,” Maggie continued, wiping tears away from her eyes, “was when you, Paige, asked me why there weren't chihuahuas in sombreros everywhere because apparently, that's what you expected from the advertisements.”
I grinned over at Paige, who was looking embarrassed. “I was really young then, probably eight or nine,” she said defensively.
I squeezed her knee again. “I wasn't judging,” I told her.
The conversation continued to flow, with the three of them recounting various humorous episodes from different trips they had taken together. I continued to marvel at how animated Paige was, how happy they all were.
I couldn't help but wonder if it was okay to take a child away from a family like this. In the back of my mind, this was the kind of family I had always wanted. This was the kind of family, I knew, that a kid needed to be around. I wasn't going to be able to provide this kind of home environment for my heir. Sure, I could be a better dad than my father had ever been, and sure, there was nothing wrong with the kid growing close to their nanny. But at the same time, knowing that the kid could be brought up in a home like this, with people who so clearly would care about its well-being, I didn't know if I could take them away from that. It wouldn't be fair.
I swallowed hard, wondering if I had made a mistake in writing out this contract. Maybe Paige should keep the baby. Maybe I wasn't ready to have a child yet. Or maybe I needed to do a more extensive vetting process when I was searching for the perfect surrogate. It had been arrogant of me to think that the first woman I came across would be the perfect fit.
But the idea of having a child with anyone other than Paige, I didn't like even the thought. Besides, at this point, Paige might already be pregnant. Even if not, we had gone too far for either of us to back out of the agreement now. And truth be told, I didn't want to stop seeing Paige.
Even now, with my hand just resting on her knee, I was thinking about all the things I wanted to do to her later, in the back of my mind. I couldn't help it. She was dressed as casually as I had ever seen her, in jeans and a T-shirt, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, but she still looked so cute and so sexy. Part of it was seeing how freely she smiled. There was something incredibly attractive about a woman who was that happy and relaxed.
I was also still intrigued by her. It seemed that the more I got to know her, the more I wondered about her. How was it that she was so averse to a relationship, when her parents clearly loved one another so much? I was interested in meeting Paige's younger sister, too, and finding out what Paige had meant by that comment about Holly being “basically perfect.”
But for now, I needed to get through this dinner without making a fool of myself. Fortunately, Maggie and Pat were so welcoming that it seemed easy enough.
As promised, Maggie sent us both off with plenty of leftovers, and I couldn't help smiling as we climbed back into the limo.
“Yeah, free, home-cooked food is one of the best reasons to go to these things,” Paige said, sinking back into her seat.
I raised an eyebrow at her, setting aside my Tupperware and pulling her into my arms. “Your parents are super nice, too,” I told her. “That was so fun.”
“Mm, it was fun,” Paige agreed, sounding sleepy. “Exhausting, though. I feel like I have to put on this big smile, to assure Mom that I am doing okay.”
I frowned at her. “Why does she worry so much about you?”
“Because as far as she knows, I've never even had a serious boyfriend. No one that was serious enough to bring home to meet her, anyway. So
she's been convinced that I'm either asexual or going to die miserable and alone. It doesn't help that one of my younger cousins just got engaged not too long ago.”
“I see,” I said. I gave her a little squeeze. “Well, thank you for inviting me. I had a good time.”
“You charmed the pants off them,” Paige said, grinning up at me. “Not that that was difficult to do. If Mom didn't suspect that we're sleeping together, I think she would have been making eyes at you.”
“It seems like she and your dad are close,” I said, trying to fish for details about why Paige didn't do relationships.
“They are really close,” Paige said. She laughed. “To be honest, it's almost sickening sometimes!” But she didn't give me any more information, and I wasn't sure that now was the right time to press her.
I frowned and watched the buildings flash by outside the tinted windows. “Am I dropping you off at your place, or do you want to stay over at mine again?”
Paige thought about it for a minute. “I'd like to stay with you if that's okay,” she said softly, burrowing deeper into my arms.
I lightly rubbed her arm. “That's okay,” I said gently.
I could tell that we were both too tired to do anything, but I didn't mind the idea of having her there in my bed again. I liked waking up next to her, with our legs tangled together. Perhaps more than I should have.
Sure enough, when we got back to my bedroom, we disrobed in silence and then climbed into our respective sides of the bed. I put a hand over hers, holding her close, and lightly kissed her hair. “Good night,” I murmured.
“Good night,” Paige echoed back sleepily.
Chapter Eighteen
Paige
On Monday when I woke up, I was alone in Michael's penthouse again. This time, Rosa wasn't even there, and I assumed she must be out running errands. The place was kind of eerie when it was this silent, and I spared a thought to wonder what it would be like to be a kid, growing up in a place like this.
Of course, the kid would have any toys that it could ever want. And friends too, I was sure.
