by Portia Moore
“Listen for them,” she says and I can see he’s exasperated but trying to remain open-minded. I squeeze his hand, all that I can do to offer my support. “Will I see you two tomorrow?”
He confirms and opens the door for me to go out, and we head to the elevator both quiet and in our own thoughts.
“So, what did you think?”
“I’m glad you were there with me,” he tells me and I smile thankfully. Given how the session began, I assumed he’d regret having me come.
“I’m glad I was there too.”
“What did you think of her as a doctor?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think she’s knowledgeable—I’ll give her that. How did you feel?”
“I guess I’ll know more when I start to make progress,” he says as the door opens. He waits for me to go out first. As we walk outside of the building, I turn to him to look at him, and the sun is reflecting off his eyes. The sight of them still steals my breath away.
“I think that we should alternate sessions. I’ll go with you to every other one,” I tell him and he frowns at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I can still make sure everything’s on the up and up, but you can have your own space to vent about things that are private.” I know that Chris trusts me, and he needs to see that I trust him too.
The first thing I notice when I step inside the house are amazing smells that have never come out of my kitchen before. I have gotten a little better at cooking —I can make hamburgers, baked chicken, fish and follow most simple recipes without creating a disaster—but not many things smell as good as Mrs. Scott’s cooking. Caylen is sleeping on the couch, and I kiss her cheek before heading to the kitchen where Mrs. Scott is tasting from a large pot.
“Did I tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” I remind her and she smiles widely at me. “Here taste this,” she says, and my mouth waters as she puts string beans on a plate for me to taste. I grab a fork and pop them in my mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” I am salivating for more as I finish my little taste. “I’ve never had string beans that taste like this.”
She grins, “I used smoked turkey and my secret recipe that I’ll write down for you.”
“They don’t even taste like vegetables,” I say in shock. She places the top back on the pot. “I also made pot roast and potatoes.” I’ve never been more excited for food before I met this woman.
“Where’s Chris?” she asks joining me at the table.
“He’s actually meeting with Dexter. He’s finding out about his financials and plans to get more information on… his job,” I tell her. She looks at me wide-eyed.
“Wow, I didn’t think of all the little things he’d need to do to merge his lives together. How did his session go?” she asks curiously.
“It went well—a little shaky at first—but we’re really counting on Helen to be professional and honest with us.”
“I know you probably can’t go into much detail but… did he mention me and his father?” Her warm expression suddenly becomes a bit gloomy from the nervousness that she is likely feeling.
“We didn’t really focus on his family in this session. It was more of coping techniques and him finding commonalities with Collin and Cal. He said he’s glad you’re here,” I tell her taking her hand and squeezing it, and this time her smile is genuine though there’s still worry etched on her face.
“Has he spoken to Aidan by any chance?”
“No not that I know of,” I tell her honestly.
“And… Lisa hasn’t reached out?” That question catches me completely off guard. It’s a name that sucks the life out of the room. Thinking of her is bittersweet. I had grown really close to her before everything happened. She always supported me when Chris was confused about me and was still with Jenna. I hate how things were before me, and she still crosses my mind every so often. But what she did with Mr. Scott was terrible, and no one hates it more than Mrs. Scott.
“No, I haven’t heard from her since… since before everything happened.”
“Well, a lot has happened since then,” she sighs. My pulse starts to climb, and I let out a deep breath and prepare myself for what she’s about to say. I pray that what she says next is something good despite my intuition screaming otherwise.
“Well, Lisa came to our house last month and she dropped off her daughter to us,” she says tightly. My eyes widen in shock.
“Dropped her off as in—she has been visiting you and Mr. Scott?” I ask confused.
“No as in she signed over custody to William and me,” she pushes out her words quickly and my mouth drops open in surprise.
“W-what?”
“She signed over custody, dropped her off with a suitcase and a duffle bag, and a letter saying that she was sorry. She asked me to love her daughter.” Mrs. Scott voice breaks, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I tell her I’m sorry or congratulate her because her eyes are smiling but she’s on the verge of crying?
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. How are you handling things?”
She smiles tightly. “You know after I found out about her, when Chris first told me, all I could imagine was the betrayal and how the child I imagined was a symbol of that.” She takes a deep breath then her eyes smile.
“But when I saw her, she was just a little girl. She wasn’t the monster I had made her to be in my mind. She was this beautiful little thing with William’s eyes, who was coloring and eating the cookies I baked that morning.”
Though she has a tight smile, her eyes glisten and tears fall down her cheek. I grab a paper towel and hand it to her. I try to keep my face blank, but I can’t help fighting my own tears. I cannot imagine the situation Mrs. Scott has found herself in, how she’s managed to pull something good from it, and my heart breaks for the little girl caught in the middle.
“The letter that Lisa wrote me made me see her as a broken girl who made bad decisions not as this conniving femme fatale.” I can feel the weight of her conflict—sadness vs. the fear of happiness—the same things I’ve battled.
“You’re going to stay with Mr. Scott?” I guess giving her a warm smile.
“I don’t know. I’m still dealing with things, but I don’t hate him more than I love him. After everything that has happened, I was sure it would be the opposite.”
“No one can judge you for the decision that you make, Mrs. Scott.” I assure her but she covers her face with her hands.
“I’m worried about how Chris will deal with this,” she whispers quietly as if he’ll walk in at any moment. My thoughts drift to the night when Chris and Mr. Scott had their big fight, how he said he’d never forgive him. We haven’t talked about what’s happened with his parents since he’s been back. I know secrets and omissions have never been a good thing for him but thinking of how he will react when Mrs. Scott tells him that not only is she leaning toward staying with Mr. Scott but that they’ve taken in his love child, a nervous feeling runs through me. I swallow hard and try to choose my words carefully. This situation is so sensitive and the wrong word could put an ugly scar on the entire situation.
“Did Mr. Scott talk to you about the last time he saw Chris?” I ask carefully and she nods ever so slightly.
“He told me that Chris hates him—and from the brief conversation I had with Chris this morning—I’m not sure if anything has changed. Though he hasn’t had much time to change his mind.” Technically Chris has only had a few days to process all of what’s happened.
“I think the best thing is to just take things slow,” I tell her, not thinking of anything else that we could do.
“I haven’t made my decision yet,” she adds, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Right.” If she hasn’t made her decision yet about staying with Mr. Scott then this isn’t something that is urgent for us to tell Chris—at least not right at this moment.
I ignore the little voice that is telling me that I’m lying again as my worry grows o
f how this will all affect Caylen if this doesn’t come together soon.
Chapter 27
Chris
Walking into Crestfield Corporation is surreal—seven floors at the top of one of the tallest buildings in Chicago, people in suits and expensive looking clothing all bustle about, women in heels that look like they should be on the cover of magazines instead of in offices. Glass windows overlooking the waterfront. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen in Madison.
“Mr. Scott, you’re here to see Mr. Crestfield?” a short, cute, blond-haired woman asks me with a bright smile.
“Umm, yeah,” I tell her and she cheerfully gestures for me to follow her.
“I like your haircut.” She seems very lively and animated, and though I don’t remember her, she has obviously seen me before if she is noticing my haircut.
“Uh, thanks.” I follow her down a long hall toward two big glass doors. She swipes a card.
“Well, hello, Collin. You wanted to see me?” My face goes blank when I see who it is, and I look back at the woman who brought me here.
“I meant the other Crestfield,” I tell her and she looks at me baffled.
“But sir, you told me it was a priority to secure you the first meeting available with Mr. Crestfield Sr.,” she stammers. I nod and let out a an exasperated sigh. This meeting must have been Collin’s idea.
“He’ll be fine from here, Stacy.” Dexter gives her a charming smile before she scurries out of the office.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Have a seat.” He gestures to one of the smaller chairs in front of his ginormous desk. My feet feel stuck in place. I haven’t seen him in years. He still looks the same—dressed like a rich man in a cigar commercial. He tilts his head slightly to the right as if questioning who I am and a smile spreads across his face.
“Chris?” he says with a laugh in his voice. I push my hands in the pockets of these too-tight jeans.
“Come now, I’m not the boogeyman.” He lifts a glass of brown liquid to his lips. I swallow hard. There are tons of questions I should be asking this man—this man I’ve only known to detest and be weary of—yet he sits in front of me as if I’m his best friend. I reluctantly take a seat.
“I gather that it’s not you who asked for the meeting with me?” He leans back in his chair. It’s not a surprise that he knows the true nature of my condition. When my dad asked him for his help, of course he’d want to know all of the details and keep track especially since… he’s my biological dad.
“No,” I tell him shortly.
“Well, you have a half hour on my calendar. Most people would sell their first born child for that.” He displays a sly grin. I’ve only met Dexter Crestfield Sr. a few times in my life, and each of those times I’ve never been alone with him. I was always with my parents or a crowd. I study his face this time though, his hair is dark with streaks of grey, but still full and carefully groomed. His dark green eyes are deep set and his jaw square underneath a short-kept beard. I look at him trying to see myself in him. I can’t believe this man is my dad, and I share his blood.
“I must say that I expected more of an emotional outburst from you since the last time we met…. or when your counterpart intruded on my dinner.”
“I really don’t have anything to say to you,” I tell him coldly. He looks at me curiously, as if no one has ever said that to him. I know he’s my biological dad and I should have millions of questions for him—why he didn’t keep me, what my mother was like, did he regret giving me up—but all I see is the same man I’ve always seen. He is a distant relative with more money than one person should have and who’s used to being treated like God.
“How curious. I would think the first time you sit down with the owner of your company or at the very least, your father, that you’d have a list of things to say.” His condescending grin makes me so angry—I can feel my face harden and my whole body stiffens.
“You’re not my father. My father's name is William, my mother’s name is Gwen and regardless of who reached out to you, I don’t need or want anything from you. I have enough problems with my actual family than to go out looking for more.”
He looks at me as if studying me then lets out a laugh and nods his head.
“I like you, Chris.” He leans back in his chair. “William raised you well.” He seems pleased with himself, except how can someone be pleased over something they had nothing to do with? I imagine he’s like Dexter—a narcissist who will take credit for anything that makes him look good.
“The thing is… I see a lot of your mother in you,” he says leaning forward and my heart jumps.
“My mother’s name is Gwen,” I remind him, and he grins.
“If only that were true then you wouldn’t be as screwed up as you are.” He sniggers. I squeeze the tip of my knees.
“You don’t know anything about me.” I scoff at him and stand. He laughs and this time, it’s full of condescension.
“See that’s where you’re wrong. I know everything about you,” he says wagging a finger at me. I roll my eyes at him and shake my head in disgust, my teeth starting to grind against each other.
“I know your family obviously. I know who your friends are, every job you’ve ever held, classes you’ve taken. I even have a list of the women Cal screwed before he met that beautiful wife of his…. or yours. I also have evidence of the myriad of illegal conundrums he’s found himself in—including the newest—the attempted murder.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask him through gritted teeth.
“I want what any loving, kind father would want,” he tells me with a sincere smile but his tone is full of sarcasm. “Loyalty, honesty, and respect.” His smile is replaced with a serious sneer.
“Why would you want my loyalty or my respect? I’m just a kid you dropped off on your step kid’s doorstep.” The words feel good to say, though so foreign after I’ve said them. He laughs, but his eyes are hard as steel.
“Like it or not, we’re family… son.”
I think of my words carefully, this time before saying them. Though I can’t stand this man, I know the type of power he has, and as much as I’d like to punch him in the face, he’s not an enemy that I want or can afford to have with all of the things I have going on. I do know that for some reason he considers me a threat, or he wants something from me. He stands from his desk and walks toward me. Looking at him, he’s taller than I thought, maybe an inch taller than me.
“Family looks out for one another.” He leans against the front of his desk so that he’s closer to me. “Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand but it’s all for the best. We’re like a team. You and I, Dexter and Helen…. Lauren. If one domino falls, we all do.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and I have to stop myself from removing it.
“It’s good to be on the winning team, Christopher. I know that William probably painted me as some big, bad villain, but I’m not like that at all,” he says as if he’s the most misunderstood person on the planet. “I am a family man. It’s of the upmost importance to me. I’ll do anything to protect the ones that I love. I’m sure we both have that in common. So it’s in my best interest that you fall along the same line that everyone else does.” He pauses and I’m not sure if he’s waiting on a response or if he’s just doing it for dramatic effect.
“We’re on the same page, yes?”
“Sure. Whatever,” I tell him. His eyes stare into mine as if trying to identify my weaknesses, then he shoots me a wide smile.
“Great,” he walks back over to his desk and picks up the phone.
“Ellen, can you come and escort Mr. Scott down to Dexter Jr.’s office please?”
“It was nice talking to you, Christopher. We must do this again soon.”
I scratch my head and turn to open the door, but the woman from earlier has already opened it.
“You can follow me, Mr. Scott.” She waits for me to follow her. I walk behind her still thinking of how weird the conversation I ju
st had with Dexter Sr. was. I felt like I was being interrogated and threatened at the same time, but he didn’t even raise his voice once. There was something sinister behind his smile almost like a threat underneath his words.
“Here we are,” she says opening the door to another office. I smile gratefully at her. Does she know? If I work here, wouldn’t she think it’s weird that I have to be taken places that I should know about already?
“Christopher, it’s good to see you,” he says. I walk into the office and feel relieved for the first time in my life seeing Dexter. After meeting his father, it’s great seeing an old friend.
“We’ll call you if we need anything, Stacy.” Stacy closes the door and I walk over and sit in one of the chairs in front of Dexter’s desk.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he says wearing an amused smirk.
“I just saw your dad.” He arches a brow leaning back in his seat.
“Really. How did that go?”
“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” I ask him confused. He smiles slyly.
“My father knows everything that goes on in this company. He doesn’t need me to ring any alarms for him.”
I shake my head wondering how people work in this type of world, where calculation and manipulation seem to be key to surviving. I think back to when Dexter and I were close, almost like brothers before his mom died and he went away to boarding school. When he came back from school, he was different. I shudder to think of how I would have turned out if I was raised by that man. Though Dexter Jr. wasn’t really raised by him since he only came home during the summers. But for Dexter Sr. to be able to make decisions that would affect my life, be the person to shape who I would become, I’m thankful for the life I had growing up because I’m screwed up enough.
“So, you want to see your financials?”
I’m shocked that he doesn’t ask why his father wanted to see me… or our father. I wonder how he feels about all of this—knowing that his dad cheated on his mom and had a kid who he lied about his whole life. It doesn’t occur to me until I’m sitting here that Dexter isn’t a uncle through marriage but… my brother, and I feel sorry for him.
