by Amy Brent
“Well let’s not celebrate yet. I’ll call my lawyer and see if he can refer me to someone who can help us down here.”
“Do lawyers do that? Hand off their business to people willy nilly?”
“My lawyer is on retainer and will get paid no matter what. Plus, Lawyers trade favors all the time. Helps them with their connections and all that other stuff they like to do.”
“Oh,” she nodded, giving me a strange look. “You know a lot about them. Are you some sort of lawyer?”
“We’ve been talking about my business for almost half an hour, how is it you don’t know what I do?”
“Really we only talked about your successes and your team. For all I know, you’re astronauts selling real estate for a Mars colony.”
“Not quite,” I said with a laugh. “Consider us sort of business brokers, or sellers of a headhunting service. It’s a bit of a mixed bag.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll just take it that it makes you a whole lot of money.”
“I don’t know about that. More that it makes me more than the average salary.”
“That’s what rich people always say.” She crinkled her nose, but she was still wearing a smile. It made her heart shaped face that much softer and kind. I should make her smile more often, maybe it would help erase the stress written so clearly across her features.
Our dessert finished too soon and then it was time to go. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I was paying the tab and sliding the server their cash tip, what the hell kind of spell this woman put on me.
Chapter Eleven
~Nicole~
From the moment that James had walked into the door of my work, I had expected some sort of throw down. Some overdramatic yelling match where my worst nightmares came true. After all, everyone else in my life had always put themselves first, so why wouldn’t I expect a perfect stranger to do the same?
But instead I got one of the loveliest dinners I had in a while and possibly the best conversation I had since Vegas.
Was that sad? It felt like it was probably sad. But what could I say? I had a hard time trusting new people and making friends. Yet somehow, this intimidating man with the stony stare put me at ease.
I was almost mournful when it was time to go. The thought of sleeping in my cramped, cold car, buried under a near mountain of blankets wasn’t really all that appealing. At least my stomach was full of quality food and I could rest well knowing that my little bean had a fantastic meal that wasn’t chock full of preservatives.
The walk to the car was much less awkward then when I first got in. It seemed like the ice had broken between us, as usually happened over carbs.
“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?” He asked as I buckled up.
“No, not really,” I answered honestly. “I might go to the library and read.”
“That doesn’t sound like a half-bad time.” He said. “So what address am I putting in?”
I stared at him a moment, all of that awkwardness coming back. For the tiniest of moments, I thought maybe he was just making a weird attempt at a joke. But then I realized that he must have forgotten that I was living in my car at the moment.
“Just right back to my work.”
“Ah, I see. Taking the bu-” He stopped mid-sentence and his eyes went large. “Right. You live in your car. You told me that.” He let out a small string of curses then fell silent for several minutes and I was almost afraid to ask him what was happening, but then he turned to me with such a serious look on his face that I fell silent.
“That’s unacceptable. I’m not going to have the mother of my child sleep in a car while I’m in town. Especially on a Friday night.” His jaw tensed several times as he struggled with his words. “You can come to my hotel, and we’ll hunt for a place this weekend.”
“Um, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I didn’t want him to get me wrong, I was incredibly grateful that he had done what he had done for me. I would also be eternally in his debt for his gracious reaction. But I didn’t know if spending the night with the same stranger who got me into this mess was exactly a wise decision.
What if this turned out to be all a front? What if he was going to axe murder me, or have a hitman take me out now that he knew? Unlikely, sure, but I had never known a person not to put themselves first ahead of everybody else, so how could I know if this guy was any different?
But he took my hand, dwarfing it again between his large palms just like he had in Vegas.
“Nicole, I recognize that you are a strong woman, and that you’ve fought very hard just to get here. I recognize that this is your body, and your decision on carrying the child was up to you. But I am putting my foot down.
“As long as I am here, as long as we are working together to divorce, I want you safe. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to, but you’re not staying in that car for another night.”
I deflated slightly. I hated being told what to do, but at the same time he was right. It couldn’t be good for my little bean for me to be sleeping in a car all the time. And to be honest, I was almost always tired because I never slept very well. It was cold and my back hurt, and I was always on high alert for if someone else tried to break in.
“…alright. But only for the baby.”
“For the baby,” he repeated softly, putting an address into the GPS and pulling away.
“So, are you always this persistent?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to be irritated or thankful. I decided for both. After all, I was technically two people now, so I could have two people’s worth of emotions, right?
But he cracked a smile anyways. I found that I liked that expression on him. It emphasized his strong jaw and gave him a look of mischief that softened his often-harsh expression. I wondered if my little one would have his smile, or mine, or maybe a mix of both of ours.
“Usually. I find that it helps in my line of work.”
“Which is some sort of head hunting business thing.”
“Something like that.”
I shook my head, looking out the window at all of the city lights. While it was certainly no Vegas, the city of St. Louis still had a lot of charm to it. Especially when passing the arch.
One day I wanted to go up into that big metal structure. It seemed so odd to me, and yet so elegant, just an upside-down U of metal stuck in the ground, but people came from far and wide to look at it.
The gateway to the west, they said. Who knew, maybe it would be my gateway to my new life. I was going to be a mom soon, and come hell or high water, I was going to do my damndest to be the best mom I could be.
“What are you thinking about over there?” James asked, sparing his eyes from the road for a second to glance at me.
“Huh?” I responded. Not very eloquent, but I didn’t know if he wanted an honest answer, or more of a generic one.
“You just have a very serious look on your face. I don’t think I’ve seen it on you before.”
“Oh,” I murmured, trying to figure out how I wanted to phrase my thoughts. “Just thinking about the future. And hope.”
“Hope?” He questioned cautiously.
“Yeah. It’s a dangerous thing, you know. But they say that even an ounce of it can get you through anything.”
“Well, I guess we’re both going to need a whole lot of hope to get us through the path we landed on.”
“Yeah,” I said, looking back out the window. “I think you’re right.”
Chapter Twelve
~James~
We arrived at the hotel and instead of using their valet service, I drove to the top of their parking garage. I knew from staying there once before for a conference that there was an elevator strictly for the penthouses that required a keycard. Unfortunately, this hotel didn’t have the punch codes that I enjoyed so much in Vegas, but you win some you lose some, I supposed.
Also, unlike Vegas, Nicole looked more worried then enamored. Then again, while the elevator was polished to
a high shine and ridiculously clear, it wasn’t anything compared to what was inside.
We didn’t say anything as we rode up, nor as the doors opened behind us. It wasn’t until we stepped into the cobalt-blue carpeted hall, crystal candelabras lining the length of the corridor.
There were only two doors in the entire length. One, immediately on the right, the other all the way down the hall and on the left, was my door.
“Wow…” Nicole breathed, looking around.
“A bit more subdued than Vegas, huh?” I asked.
She nodded slowly, her almond, enchanting eyes flitting this way and that. “It’s nice though. Less in your face, still just as pretty.”
“Yeah, I prefer the décor of this place. But I do have to admit that their presidential suite has nothing on the one I had before. But this costs a quarter as much, so such is the way.”
She smirked at that, and I felt the tiniest sliver of our rapport return to us. “Oh, I’m surprised you didn’t just buy the most expensive hotel there was to have.”
“I did,” I shot back, sending her a smooth look. “But even the best presidential suite here can’t quite match up with the land of opulence, but I’ll survive.”
“I hope so. That’d be a terrible way to die.”
I laughed. “Imagine that epitaph. Here lies James, struck down by a five-star hotel with only four-star accommodations.”
“Truly a modern tragedy.”
By the time we had reached the door, we were both all smiles, much of the awkwardness that had built back up between us slipping away again. I slid my keycard and pushed open the door, standing to the side so that Nicole could walk past me.
Even tired eyed and exhausted, she was still a sight to behold. While I had certainly met more glamourous models, or refined movie stars in my time, there was a natural sort of presence to this woman that I couldn’t escape. Like she was some sort of mythical elf or dryad transported to our world and I was just lucky enough for my path to intersect with hers.
Or, maybe that was just my mind trying to build up my connection with her considering my spawn was inside of her.
Ugh, I didn’t like that word. But I also didn’t like referring to it as a baby either, because it wasn’t quite that either. I guess I could just call it a fetus, but that was so detached, clinical even. I guessed I was just gonna go with Bean like Nicole did.
“Take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable. I’ve got some snacks in the mini-fridge if you want them.”
“Thanks,” she said, sighing gratefully as she bent over.
I headed to the small kitchenette myself, intend on grabbing one of the sparkling waters from the fridge, but I didn’t quite get there before I was distracted by a couple of grunts from behind me. Looking back, I saw her struggling with one of her still-sensible heels.
“You okay?” I asked, giving her a sort of curious look.
She continued to struggle for a few minutes before looking to me, slightly red-faced and with a slight sheen of sweat on her brow.
“I’ve got pregnancy feet,” she groaned.
“You have what now?”
She gave me her own look. “Do you really not know?”
I shrugged. “I never thought I would have kids, so I guess my mind’s never bothered to keep any information on that process.”
“Huh. Alright then, I guess I’ll buy that.” She struggled once more before sighing and flinging herself onto the thick, luxurious couch of the sitting area. “My feet and ankles are swollen from all that water retention that comes along with the second and third trimester. And they’ve swollen up so much today that I can’t get my shoes off.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
“Bingo.”
I continued my trek to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water, then crossed back to her. “Maybe I can help with that.” I handed her the bottle of water and considered her for a moment.
“What?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.
“One moment,” I answered, placing my drink back onto the table and heading to the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a sizable bottle of complementary lotion on the sink and I grabbed it before returning to the couch.
“Move your feet,” I said, pointing to where I wanted to sit. She did so, and once I was settled, I patted my lap again.
“Are you sure?” She was looking at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “They’ve been in there all day. There’s no way they’re going to smell or feel sexy.”
I chuckled at that. “Not everything has to be sexy all the time. If the mother of my child has swollen feet, I’m going to help her out as best I can.”
“…if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
She set her feet in my lap and I went to work on the right shoe. She wasn’t kidding that it was pretty stuck. I had to grip it firmly and wiggle it back and forth until finally it gave up its hold and her puffy, slightly red foot was free.
The sigh of relief she let out was almost comical. I would forever be grateful that I was never born a woman, because I didn’t think I could keep up with all the torturous, annoying things they had to put themselves through not to be shunned by society. Sure, being a man came with its own hang ups, but at least none of them involved me putting cosmetics near my eyes or searing hot irons near my hair to be considered professional.
Setting her shoe on the ground, I moved on to her left foot and gave it the same treatment. Once the things were off, I could see that they were worn well below the footpad inside, and there was even duct tape in a couple of places. I knew better than to comment on that to Nicole, but I resolved that I was going to get her a nice, comfortable pair of professional flats before her next work week started. I didn’t care if she sat at her desk most of the time, if there was a bit of pain I could help her avoid, I was going to do so.
Huh… I was getting wrapped up in this awfully fast. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, so I knew I needed to slow my roles. And yet, I couldn’t. Between my responsible side and my take charge side, my mind was already trying to formulate the best path moving forward. While I did indeed like to party, business always came first, and I couldn’t imagine any business more important than the life of my child.
Now that both of her feet were bare, I uncapped the lotion and squeezed a generous portion into my hands. I rubbed them together for a few moments, letting it warm, before gently taking one of her feet and letting my fingers glide across it.
She was watching me intensely, and I could tell how nervous she was. I had a feeling that if she wasn’t pregnant and already feeling sore from sleeping in a car for goodness knows how long, she might have declined all together. But the moment I hit the arch of her foot, she let out a groan and her entire head fell back against the plush arm of the couch.
That was more like it. That one grateful little sound reminded me of all the sweet, wanton notes she had hit in Vegas, and I had to focus on the pledge of allegiance before my body started responding and she got the wrong idea.
“How did you get so good at this?” Her voice was practically a heady whine but it was endearing. “Don’t you normally, like, pay someone to do this?”
“My mom had pretty bad rheumatoid arthritis when I was a teenager. A lot of the time I’d end up rubbing her hands or her feet when she was in too much pain to get up and go somewhere. Sure, she could have hired a massage therapist, she saw one every week as it was, but it was sort of our time together. We’d put on cheesy old science fiction movies, she’d ask about my day and I’d test out different lotions to see which one helped the most. Those are some of my fondest memories of her.”
“That’s… very sweet.” Nicole murmured, sounding surprised. “I take it she’s passed?”
“Oh yeah, long ago. She had a surrogate birth me when she was fifty-two and her husband was sixty. A lot of people criticized them for bringing a baby into the world so late in life, but the first twenty years of my life were full of more support and love than m
ost people could ever ask for. Not to mention they left me an insane inheritance that’s allowed me to build my company the way I have.”
She said nothing for several moments, just seeming to absorb my story. “Wow. I guess if you had to choose, I would definitely take amazing parents for a short time instead of shitty parents for the rest of her life.”
I heard something in her voice, some slight tremor of bitterness that had a whole story behind it, and I debated on asking her or not. It seemed slightly invasive, but then again, considering that my child was inside of her, maybe I could afford to ask some personal questions.
“It sounds like you might have some experience with shitty parents.”
“Is it that obvious?” She scoffed slightly, not at me seemingly but at herself. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She paused, no doubt expecting me to gloss over the slightly uncomfortable silence. But I had no problem waiting for her to find her words, and after a couple of minutes she started talking again.
“My Mom and Dad were never mean to me per say, but they didn’t make it easy. They absolutely hated each other with a passion and were always fighting and screaming. I remembered being scared a lot and exasperated that they wouldn’t just break up. But they were staying together for me, apparently, not realizing that their staying together was what was stressing me out so terribly.
