Mine to Keep, page 9
“No,” I answer him honestly. “What time is it?”
“A little after twelve,” he answers, and there is a knock on the door. “I’ll get it.” He gets up and all I can do is watch him walk over to the door. “Thank you,” he says right before I hear the door shut. He walks back into the room with a brown paper bag in his hand. “I got you food.”
“Ugh,” I groan out, “no.” Then my stomach growls. “Yes, but.” My voice trails off.
“It’s okay,” he assures me, sitting down near my side, “I got you chicken broth so you can have that without throwing up.”
“I threw up water before,” I tell him, but my mouth waters when he takes the broth out of the bag, “but I can try.”
“I also got you some saltines if you want to crush them up and put them in the broth.” I look at him. “It’s a trick I learned with Meadow.” He looks into the bag and takes out a plastic spoon. “At least try to see if you can take it.”
“Fine,” I agree, getting up on my elbow and testing out the waters to see if my head will spin. I almost cheer when it doesn’t. I sit up and cross my legs in front of me, waiting for the nausea to kick in, but nothing happens. “This is a plus,” I tell him as he hands me the Styrofoam container. “Thank you.” He watches me as I grab the spoon from his hand and take a little bit of broth and swallow it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” I inform him, and he chuckles.
“I doubt that,” he says as he watches me.
“You’re freaking me out,” I admit softly as I sip another spoonful.
“Why?” He turns on his seat to face me.
“Well, for one, I’m not used to this Caine,” I tell him. “I’m used to—”
“The jerkface,” he reminds me of the name I called him.
“Yes.” I figure we are past the point where I have to hide I don’t like his attitude at times. “Also, I forgive you.”
“Do you?” he states. “But you won’t forget.”
“Nope.” I smile at him.
“It was just a surprise.” He starts to talk, his voice not rising. This has to be my favorite Caine voice of them all. “I walked into the office, and Meadow was there.”
I guess I can see why he freaked out. “I just didn’t even think. Why didn’t you try to get in touch with me through their office?”
“I mean, it wasn’t life or death,” I try to make him understand. “She wasn’t feeling well. Under no circumstance was it that dire to get in touch with you. I knew how big the meeting was, so I figured I would bring her to the office, and then when you came back, you could deal with it.”
“I’ve never had someone who stepped in the way you did.” His voice is so calming he should talk like this all the time. “It’s usually just been me who has to take care of her and then all of a sudden someone else was doing it.” His declaration has my head spinning for a whole different reason.
“What about Meadow’s mom?” I ask the question I’ve been dying to ask anyone since the daycare called me but refrained. He looks down. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine; it’s not like no one in the office knows. She left after Meadow was born. Marriage and motherhood weren’t for her.” His eyes go soft as he talks about his daughter, and I also make a mental note that I really, really like this Caine.
“Well, good riddance, then,” I declare, shocking him and myself. “No one needs to be brought up with a shitty parent.” I put the soup down. “Luckily for her, you are a great dad.”
He’s about to say something when we hear the sound of the front door unlock. I look down the hall toward the door, hearing it slam. The sound of boots on the floor, Caine glances over at me and all I can do is look to see who is walking in. “What is going on here?” my cousin JB says as soon as he steps into the room. He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, with his big-ass ugly belt I’ve been trying to hide since he turned twelve and decided a big bull buckle was a good idea. With his crusty-ass old cowboy boots; instead of a cowboy hat, he’s wearing a baseball hat.
Caine gets up as if the couch is on fire, walking over to his jacket, it takes him one step and a long reach. “What are you doing here?” I ask, leaning forward and putting my soup down on the table.
“I got here as soon as I could,” he answers, looking at me and then at Caine, who is shrugging on his jacket.
“I’m Caine,” he introduces, the soft look he had in his eyes not too long ago gone. “I’m her boss. I came by to make sure she was okay.”
“I’m JB,” he returns, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ll head out,” Caine says, avoiding looking at me, nodding at JB, and then hightailing it out of here.
“He’s so scared of me.” JB laughs as soon as the door slams shut.
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “He could bench-press you with one hand.” I throw the cover off me. “Now, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Wow,” he says, putting his hand to his heart, “is that any way to talk to your loving cousin, who flew all this way to make sure you’re okay?”
He starts to walk into the room, and I hold up my hand. “If you think you’re sitting anywhere on this couch, I’m calling Grandma Olivia and telling her.” He stops mid-step. “Did you even shower, or did you come here straight from the barn?” I ask, and he smirks. “You lost the bet, didn’t you?”
He takes his hat off and scratches his head. “Charlie was supposed to come, but he bet me.” I hold up my hand to stop him from talking.
“I don’t even know why he would come either,” I huff. “I’m fine. I have the flu.”
“You tell that to your parents, then my parents, and when you are done, tell our grandparents also,” he grouses. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Go shower.” I point at the hallway. “And change your clothes.”
“Fine, but I’m choosing what we watch when I come out.” He turns around to grab the bag he must have left at the door before going into the shower.
I grab my soup and finish most of it, then look into the bag, seeing he got me ginger ale and Gatorade. I get up, going to the kitchen to get a glass, and by the time I sit back down, JB is out of the shower and heading over to the couch. I don’t know what he puts on because all I can think about is Caine and what he told me. I reach for my phone and pull up his name, typing out a message, wondering what he’s doing right now.
Me: Thank you for the soup today and for making sure I’m okay.
twelve
Caine
“Tomorrow can we go to the park?” Meadow asks me when she climbs into bed, using her feet to slide under the covers in the middle of her queen-sized bed. Her face looks like it has its color back from the past two days of being sick. My head is low-key throbbing after having a minor mental breakdown with Meadow about how she wanted to take a shower and not a bath. Then from the shirt she was wearing that she didn’t want to wear but then put on backward. Let’s just say I’m really fucking happy this week is finally over. I think also she is definitely on the mend and back to her old self.
“I think we can do that,” I tell her, walking over toward the reading corner in her room. “What book do you want?”
“The Little Mermaid,” she chooses as I grab the book and walk over to her bed, lying on top of the blankets. “I got gadgets and gizmos a plenty.” She sings the song and then looks up at me, and all I can do is smile at her. The love I have for her is indescribable, and I didn’t understand it until they placed her in my arms.
“Okay, here we go,” I start, opening the book and beginning to read it to her. By the end of the book, she is barely able to keep her eyes open. Getting off the bed, I kiss her cheek softly before grabbing her old sippy cup from the night before. Placing the book back where I took it from, I close the door a bit behind me.
I walk down the stairs with the sippy cup in my hand as I make my way to the kitchen. The minute I get to the bottom, I hear my phone beep from the kitchen counter, where I left it before I ushered Meadow upstairs after dinner.
I turn off the lights in my office and lower the bright ones in the family room before making my way over to the kitchen. Picking up my phone, I stare at the home screen. I have emails that have come in and two text messages, but the last one is the one that shocks me. I was not expecting to see her name. My hands get a little clammy when I see her message:
Grace (Office) PA: Thank you for the soup today and for making sure I’m okay.
Two things happen at the same time, my chest gets tight and then my hand grips the phone even harder. Why the fuck is she texting me when her boyfriend is right there with her? Boyfriend. Just the word makes my jaw twitch. I mean, I knew it was a possibility, but then to see it with my own eyes. It was just an eye-opener, more or less. I mean, did I need to go to her place to see if she was okay? No. Should I have sent a message to her instead of going there? Yes. Not my best moment, for sure. I look down at the message, wondering what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she ate some of the soup. I wonder if she got sick after I left. It’s none of your business, I remind myself.
Ignoring the pull to answer her, I put the phone back down on the counter. The minute I walk away from it to clean up the fiasco I made during dinner, all I can do is look back toward where the phone sits. “Don’t even think about it,” I tell myself as I pile all the dishes into the sink. As I rinse off the plates, my mind stupidly and unconsciously goes back to Grace. I am never, ever going to admit how much this actually happens. Whenever my head gets a minute to think, it’s always fucking Grace it thinks of. My stomach gets tight when I remember listening to her get sick from the hall, and all I could do was wait for her. In honesty, I did try to open the door, but it was locked, so all I could do was wait. Then watching her almost fall, not even going to lie, I was one second away from calling 9-1-1. Then when she lay down, all I could do was watch her, waiting for her to jump up and be sick again, but luckily, she was fine. I should have left. I should have done a lot of things, but leaving was at the top of that list. There is also a column for things I shouldn’t have done. I shouldn’t have bared my soul to her about Marylin. I shouldn’t have ordered her lunch and waited for her to eat it. I shouldn’t have wanted to lie down and hold her.
The phone rings from the counter when I put the last dish into the dishwasher. My hand stills midway as my heart picks up its pace, thinking maybe she’s calling me. I wipe my hands on the dishrag before grabbing my phone and seeing it’s Nash.
“Hello,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear before turning to start the dishwasher.
“Yo,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “I’ll be in town tomorrow. Can I come and hang with my niece so I can get best uncle credits?”
I laugh at him. “You’re her only uncle,” I remind him, “so you get that regardless of if you are cool or not.”
“I’ll be there by ten, and maybe tomorrow night we can go out on the town,” he says, his voice getting excited. “Get you laid so you can be in a better mood.”
“Not interested,” I say curtly, wiping down the counter.
“In sex or going out?” he asks, his voice going to a whisper.
“In going out,” I groan. “If you want, we can go to a bar and watch the hockey game.”
“Fun,” he replies, “I haven’t done that since I was in college.”
“Goodbye.” I hang up on him. I finish cleaning the kitchen, and instead of watching television, I go into the office, going through all my emails. What an exciting Friday night, I laugh at myself when I slide into bed.
The next morning, I wake up early, opting to work out upstairs. After two hours, I’m showered and in the kitchen, making a protein shake when Meadow comes downstairs. “Morning, Dad,” she greets, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Morning, baby girl,” I say to her as she comes to me and I pick her up in my arms, laying her head on my shoulder. “How did you sleep?”
“Not good,” she complains, and I look over seeing she slept ten hours; she’s fine.
“Uncle Nash is coming over today,” I tell her, and all of a sudden, she’s fine. “He’s going to come to the park with us.”
“Goody,” she cheers, squirming down. “Are you making pancakes?” I look down at her as she skips to the living room. “With strawberries and blueberries?” I laugh, thinking this is her way of saying this is what you are making me for breakfast, or else. Nash comes in twenty minutes later and the three of us spend the day outside. I even put her to bed before heading out for the night.
“Do you know that Sofia, our event planner, is married to Matthew Petrov?” I tell him as I take a pull from my bottle of beer. The two of us are sitting at a sports bar, sharing nachos, while watching the hockey game on the big-screen television.
“No way,” he says, his phone beeping in his hand.
“You’ve been on that thing nonstop today,” I tell him, and he just looks over at me and smirks. “Who are you texting?”
“Grace.” The minute he says her name, my hand stops midway from my mouth to the bar. If I wasn’t holding on to the bottle of beer as hard as I am, it would fall to the floor. The air swishes out of me. “I’m checking to see how she’s doing.”
I put the beer down on the coaster, trying to contain my rage. I also try not to think about why I have so much rage. “You’re texting Grace?” I ask him, thinking maybe I misheard him.
“Yeah,” he confirms, grabbing his own beer bottle and bringing it to his mouth, trying to hide his smile.
“She has a boyfriend,” I inform him, “so you are barking up the wrong tree.” I try not to glare at him but fail. “And two, you’re too old for her.”
“Okay, one, she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he refutes me. “Two, she’s five years younger than me.”
“I met her boyfriend yesterday.”
Nash laughs at me as he puts his beer down on the coaster. “Who cares?” He picks up the phone again. “I’m checking to see how she is.”
I snatch the phone away from him. “Stop fucking playing in my office.” He snatches the phone back from me.
“If it makes you feel any better, you can play in my office any time you want.” I shake my head as he puts his phone down.
I’m in a semi bad mood the rest of the night, ignoring him and ignoring all the times he picks up his phone. The bad mood lingers into Sunday, and by the time I’m walking into the office on Monday morning, I’m a ticking time bomb.
Stepping out of the elevator, I nod at the receptionist as I walk to my office, spotting Grace right away. She’s walking out of the kitchen with that guy again, who literally has hearts in his eyes. She looks more beautiful than I remember, which pisses me off tenfold.
She smiles at him before she walks toward her desk, her pink-flowered skirt goes to her ankles and swishes around her legs. Her feet are in shiny pink sky-rocket high heels, and my cock immediately wakes up. Her white shirt is a wraparound with small sleeves to her elbows and a big bow sash on the side. I wonder if I pull it, will it open in the front? She must sense someone looking at her because her eyes find mine. Something inside me shifts, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s probably irritation because her eyes shine, and I could get lost in them. “Good morning.” She smiles at me, her eyes lighting up even more.
“Morning,” I snap at her. “Did you just get in?”
“Nope,” she says, walking around her desk, putting the cup of coffee on the desk, “just wanted to get a cup of coffee.” She sits down and looks at me. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“It was fine,” I deflect, walking into my office, ignoring the need to ask her how her weekend went.
“Meeting in ten.” I look up to see Vinny knocking on my door.
“Yeah.” I put my keys down and ignore her when I walk out. I look out a couple of times during the meeting, and every single time I look out, I don’t see her at her desk. I don’t even add things to discuss in the meeting, and when I walk out and go back to my office, she’s not at her desk again.
This time, I spot her coming out of Loren’s office. “You are never at your desk,” I bark when she gets close enough to her desk. I try to keep my voice down, but it comes out a bit higher than it should. The office suddenly goes eerily quiet as all eyes are on us.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“You are never at your desk,” I repeat, my voice is lower now. I look around, making everyone look away. “I came in, and you weren’t at your desk.” I take a deep inhale, and I should count to ten, or maybe even a hundred, but I don’t. “Then I look out during the meeting, and I don’t ever see you at your desk.”
“I’ll order myself an AirTag.” She puts the papers she has in her hands down on her desk. “Then wear it during work hours so you can track me.” She sits in her chair.
I grit my teeth before I storm into my office, closing the door behind me. I toss my jacket on the couch before I walk over to my desk. I see that she’s sent me fifteen emails since I went into the meeting. She has also worked on my schedule and added in some meetings.
The knock on my door has me looking up. “Come in!” I shout, and the door opens just enough for her to stick her head in.
Her hair falls away as she looks at me. “Hey, just letting you know I’ll be right back.” She smiles at me. The smile of evilness, her look is that of trouble. “I gotta pee.”
thirteen
Grace
His eyes look like they are shooting daggers at me, but it’s his own fault. “I’ll be back, okay?”
“Grace,” he growls through clenched teeth, but I don’t bother answering him. Instead, I just close his door before walking to the bathroom. I don’t know why I’m surprised he came in this morning aggravated. I just thought after we shared that little afternoon together, he would be different. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I want to kick myself for being so stupid.
