FIRST LOVE_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance

by Scarlet Wilder

  I was frowning, not wanting to listen to him, not wanting to think that maybe he was right.

  “Thousands of miles apart across the ocean isn’t a way for us to love each other,” he said. “We need to agree that nothing can take last night and this morning away from us, but we don’t get to have the happy ending we both wanted. I won’t have you sitting here and waiting for me. I want you to live your life, and simply look back at our time together with good memories, and not with pain, or anger when a long-distance relationship doesn’t work out. It’s just better this way.”

  At that, I burst into tears, and he held me close, rocking me gently as I clung to him. I was so frustrated, so angry that he was being taken from me in just a few moments, when he’d get on a plane and fly to London.

  “I wish I could stay,” he murmured into my hair. “I wish more than anything that I could stay.”

  He held my shoulders and leaned back, looking at me. “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too,” I cried, and I grabbed him, desperately holding onto him as though someone had burst through the door and were wrenching him from my grasp. We kissed each other deeply, falling back onto the bed, our gifts tossed to the side as he made love to me, one last time, promising me that he’d never forget me.

  I wanted it to be different, but I knew that our lives were being forced down different paths. I cried at the unfairness of it all, and he apologized again.

  He phoned the front desk to arrange a cab for me, before he got dressed. He gave me one last kiss, then turned and walked out of the hotel room, my book in his hand.

  I could only sob into the pillow, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

  12

  ________

  LIAM

  Ten Years Later

  Three tigers leaped out of the open cage and hunted me down the hallway. My feet slipped and I almost tumbled over, time that I couldn’t afford. I couldn’t believe someone had been so stupid as to leave the cage door ajar. My heart thudded like it meant to explode and my mind was a scattered mess as I frantically ran into the first room I could find. It was a music studio, and I ran into the sound booth, slamming the door shut just as three sets of paws slammed against the glass. They kept clawing and pounding, over and over, the sound almost becoming rhythmical, almost like they were knocking…

  With the groggy realization that real life was, in fact, merging into a particularly bad dream, I opened my eyes and heard the knocking again. This time, the tigers were gone, but the pressing matter clearly wasn’t. The last remnants of the nightmare faded from my mind as I stood up and walked across the room to open the door to a very worried-looking woman.

  “So sorry to have to wake you at this time of the morning, Sir,” said Joanna, shooting me an anxious gaze, “but there’s something at the front door that you really need to see.”

  I was only wearing my boxer shorts and I was barely aware of the day, let alone the time, but Joanna seemed to need me urgently. It must have been something particularly troubling if my usually calm and collected housekeeper was banging on the door so violently to get my attention. Nothing flustered the fifty-year-old Filipino grandmother, whether it was the announcement of the sudden arrival of twelve unexpected guests for dinner or the time I let my friend Tim try out my new Tesla, and he promptly reversed it straight into the pool house.

  No, this had to be nothing less than an emergency, so I nodded, closed the door and quickly grabbed a t-shirt. I didn’t bother slipping my feet into flip-flops or sneakers. There didn’t seem to be time for that. If we were being robbed, I’d have to chase after whoever was terrorizing us in nothing but my bare feet.

  We hurried down the stairs to the front door, and as we did so, I tried to get Joanne to tell me what was going on.

  “You have to see for yourself, Sir,” she said, breathlessly.

  I expected to be greeted by the FBI waiting for me, or perhaps one of my cars having been set alight in the driveway. But, nothing could have prepared me for the sight awaiting me as I opened the door.

  At first, I saw nothing at all. For a split second, I thought that whoever was there had simply changed their mind and left. But then, I looked down, and I gasped, the shock nearly putting me on the floor.

  I quickly crouched down. “Holy shit.”

  It was a baby. A tiny, tiny baby strapped into a purple and black car seat. It looked like a little doll, but when I stroked its face, it stirred and opened its eyes, which were blue and bright. There was an envelope attached to the top of the seat. The baby was warmly wrapped up, covered in a colorful fleece blanket. On the mild May morning, it didn’t seem to have come to any harm.

  I looked up at Joanna. “I don’t get it,” I said. “It was April Fool’s Day last month. You guys are late.”

  “Sorry Mister Wilde, but this is no joke,” Joanna said, and from behind her, I glimpsed another figure. It was Edward, the butler. His face was grave.

  “Come on, Eddie,” I said, forcing a laugh. “You must know something about this, right? One of you guys is playing a trick, surely? What, someone’s had a kid and this is how they want me to be introduced to it?”

  “Not at all, Sir. There was a knock at the door five minutes ago,” Edward said, stepping forward. “When Mrs. Santos opened it, the baby was right here, and there was a car, speeding off down the drive.”

  “Always knew I should have put up gates,” I said, but I couldn’t help but pick up the baby. I had no idea if it was a boy or a girl. I had no idea why it was on my doorstep.

  “Maybe it would be a good time to call the police?” I said.

  “May I suggest, Sir, that you first read the note,” said Edward, ever the practical head of wise advice.

  “Right.”

  It was strange, but the note was carefully written and placed inside the ivory envelope. It looked like high-quality hotel room stationery. I tore it open and drew out the neatly folded paper. “Shit,” I muttered, as I began to read.

  Dear Liam, it read.

  I only found out I was pregnant three month’s ago, and she arrived on the ninth. She’s your baby. Well, ours, only there’s no way I can take care of her. I’m getting some of the best gigs of my life and a baby will only slow me down. I’m bringing her to you before I start to bond with her. I think she’s pretty cute, and she looks like you, but I’ve never been the maternal type.

  I’ve named her Cristal, but I don’t really know if she suits it. I don’t want to have any contact with either of you, and I know that you will look after her in whatever way you think’s best. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t come after me or try to give her back. I don’t want her ending up in a care home because neither of us wants her, even though we both helped to make her.

  Of all the guys I’ve slept with, I never would have thought you’d be the one I’d regret sleeping with. Funny how life turns out, huh?

  Best wishes,

  Melanie.

  Melanie? I didn’t know anyone by that name, did I? I looked down at the letter. Today was the twelfth. She was barely three days old.

  I looked at the baby, staring into her eyes. Did she really look like me? My eyes are hazel, and hers seemed to be blue, but then again, I knew enough to know that most Caucasian babies are born with dark blue eyes, and their true eye color may not reveal itself for a few months yet, so that didn’t help much.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the feeling of confusion that had swept through my mind.

  “We need to think clearly, here,” I said. “First thing’s first. Joanna, can you take her for me, please?”

  My housekeeper knelt down and lifted her from my grasp as though she was made of porcelain. The tiny little thing seemed very content to nuzzle against Joanna’s buxom chest. I frowned. I felt no paternal attachment to her. Should I have? If she was mine, shouldn’t I have been filled with some kind of emotional reaction, something that stirred inside me thanks to DNA? I was doubtful.

  Melanie.


  The name meant nothing to me but if I had to be completely honest then there was a slight chance that the baby was mine. I simply didn’t remember spending the night with her mother. Over the past few years, the single life had suited me well, and I was never short of female companionship; the kind I’d usually wake up to the following morning, only to leave the hotel, and most of them I’d never see again.

  I had an idea.

  “Let’s get inside, and we don’t need to call the cops just yet. After all, there’s a slight chance she might very well be mine, and I don’t want to look stupid. We need to check the security cameras. It’ll give me a much better idea of what to do next.”

  In the clear pictures that beamed at me from the LCD monitor, I could make out a figure of a woman with long, dark hair, tied up in a ponytail. Nobody would ever have guessed she’d just given birth. She wore tightfitting knee-high bottoms and white sneakers. She jumped out of a red convertible, top up, and brought the car seat out from the passenger side. She looked up at the camera as though to show her face, and I paused the recording.

  I recognized her and sighed.

  Mel.

  I remembered her now. She was a personal trainer, someone I was referred to after my knee started to play up again; an old soccer injury. I liked her and asked her out to dinner one night. She’d insisted on us taking her car instead of a taxi and after dinner, she invited me back to her place. That’s how I remembered the car. And her small but neat apartment. And how I’d had to call Edward to come get me the following day.

  Shit!

  I leaned back in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair. I did the math. Nine months ago, was I in New York? I pulled out my phone and checked my calendar. Yep. There it was. Last August. An appointment with Mel at the gym, clearly noted for the 30th.

  I left the study and went into the kitchen where I found Joanna, hunched over the kitchen counter, scribbling on a notepad. Edward was holding the baby, looking down at her with a smile on his face while gently rocking her from side to side. He looked up at me when I came in and straightened up, clearing his throat.

  “Apologies, Sir,” he said. “I was helping Mrs. Santos while she made her shopping list.”

  Edward Hinckley was my faithful, right-hand man, the one who’d helped me look my very best and had certainly seen me at my very worst. He was fifty-seven with sleek, silver hair, and he was the epitome of high service and discretion. I’d asked him hundreds of times to simply call me Liam, but he insisted on Sir every single time. He certainly had no need to apologize for holding an abandoned infant, and I told him so.

  I turned to Joanna. “What’s the list for?”

  “Why, baby things, of course,” she said, surprised. “The little thing seems well-fed, but there was no formula left with her and it’s hardly something we keep around here. I was going to make a call to Stevenson’s and get them to do a thirty-minute delivery. If Cristal’s anything like my three, then she’ll be bellowing for her breakfast before the hour is out.”

  “Right,” I said. “Good plan. Only, don’t have a delivery made here. I don’t want anything getting out about there being a baby in the house. Instead, just take the car into town and buy whatever you need. Put it all on the credit card.”

  “Of course,” Joanna said.

  I rubbed my eyes, sliding onto a stool at the breakfast counter, still wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. With Eddie and Joanna, though, it was like being with family.

  “What a fucking mess,” I groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Did anything show up on the camera, Sir?” Eddie asked.

  “Unfortunately, the lady’s familiar to me,” I replied. “And if she didn’t stir my memory, then her car sure did. Remember that time I called you from the West Village last year? High-rise apartment?”

  He nodded. “Of course,” he said, and looked down at the baby. “It seems little Cristal may have been the result.”

  “If she’s mine, then that name’s got to go,” I said. “I’m not having a daughter named after French champagne, no matter how good it tastes.”

  “Are you seriously thinking about keeping her?” Joanna asked, shooting me a surprised look. But, I was even more surprised than her at hearing myself utter the words.

  “Well, what else am I supposed to do?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry, Sir. You don’t even know if she’s yours, yet,” Joanna said, and her motherly care and calmness were exactly what I needed. “The first thing you need to do, is sort that out.”

  “I’ll call Larry,” I said. “He’ll know what to do.”

  It was a Sunday morning, but my lawyer would always pick up the phone. As much as I didn’t want to speak to him on the weekend, his services were now going to prove invaluable. Until then, though, I needed to have another look at the baby. I held out my arms and Eddie walked over with her, placing her in the crook of my elbow.

  She stirred again, and this time she opened her eyes fully, staring up as though trying to focus on me. I smiled down at her and placed my pinkie finger in the palm of her little hand. She curled her fingers around it and held on tight.

  I felt something powerful, something I’d never felt before, stir within me and, at that moment, my heart turned to jelly.

  “Elizabeth,” I murmured.

  “What?” Joanna asked. “Did you say something, Sir?”

  I looked up. “Her name’s Elizabeth,” I said.

  “Ah, after Elizabeth Bennet, Sir?” Eddie asked, smiling knowingly.

  I nodded. “Yes. As you know, my favorite book, although I haven’t read it for quite some time. But, I always thought I’d call my first daughter by that name.”

  “It’s beautiful, Sir.”

  Looking down at her again, I saw that she was still looking up at me, searching for my face. “Hi, Elizabeth,” I said again.

  “Lizzie.”

  13

  ________

  ELLE

  He held his hands behind his back. “Left or right?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Left,” I said. He brought his left arm forward, his hand in a tight fist. Then he turned it over, opened it up and in the flat of his palm, was a quarter.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  “Yes!” I cried, punching the air. “That’s the first time in nearly a week that I’ve actually won!”

  “Goddammit,” he hissed. “I couldn’t switch them fast enough.”

  My mouth flopped open in stunned surprise. “You mean that’s what you’ve been doing the whole time?” I cried. “Oh, then I’m definitely milking it tonight. It’s payback time and you know what I want.”

  “No,” he groaned. “Please. Don’t make me.”

  “Yep. I want your famous meatloaf with the ketchup glaze and everything. And French fries, not potatoes. And the really good French fries, too.”

  Colin frowned and folded his arms across his chest, pouting like a petulant child. “That’s going to take me hours!”

  I stifled a laugh. “Well, then you’ll have to make an early start of it, won’t you?” I said, and I stood on my tiptoes and planted a quick peck on the tip of his nose. “I’ll be back by six.”

  “Have a good day,” Colin pouted, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. I grinned, took my purse and left.

  I had to laugh to myself as I walked toward the subway. That little bastard had been playing me all week, switching the coin with his nimble fingers so that it was never in the hand that I chose by the time he brought it forward. I was onto him now. It was only eight in the morning, but I was already looking forward to coming home to the delicious smell of meatloaf and fries. Nobody could come close to the way Colin made it.

  Saturdays were always busy and I barely had time to put my purse away before the madness began. Megan was already there, busy re-dressing the window display, and immediately I stopped her.

  “Take out that gray dress and the golden lime jacket,” I directed. “Those colors are too l
ast year. We need lavenders and violets. What’s that shade? Crocus pretax, that’s it. Here, try this wrap with that. See? The violet works perfectly.”

  She smiled and nodded, and I removed the items that weren’t going into the display. I’d need to talk to Lesley about putting them on sale. That was a conversation I didn’t really want to have, at least, not again. Lesley hated having to reduce prices on any of her stock.

  “Nothing says ‘this shit wasn’t good enough the first time around’ like a sales rack,” she’d say.

  Even Gucci has sale season, for crying in a bucket. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d tried to convince her that there was no shame in a sale, but she was as stubborn as mole-hair on a witch’s chin, not budging an inch.

  So, we’d always made sure we optimized the windows. Not that she really needed the push. Lesley Banks was an incredible designer and already she’d graduated from a tiny shop in Brooklyn to a bustling boutique in Midtown. I’d been working for her for three years and we’d already had to extend the shop twice. I was pretty sure we couldn’t do it again, though. At this rate, she was either going to have to open another store or move into a bigger space.

  “Great job,” I said when Megan finished. “Can you see how the yellow pops so much better now? It’s similar to the primrose, but there’s a subtle difference with the shading.”

  She nodded. “I like it. I’m just not sure about the sunglasses, though. Are they too big, do you think?”

  The mannequin in the window was holding a pair of shades that didn’t work. “You’re right,” I said. “We need the micro shades. I think we have some Saint Lauren in Lesley’s office. They were delivered yesterday.”

  “Shall I go get them?”

  “Sure, and take Lesley a fresh pot of tea since you’re going up there anyway.”

  “Will do,” Megan shouted over her shoulder as she made her way to the back of the store. I stepped outside onto the street to get a proper look at the window display. It looked much better, and with a little bit of guidance, Megan had done a great job of redressing it with the summer stock. We were still in spring, but like all boutiques, we had to stay one step ahead of the game at all times.