Chapter 35
~~ Lorelai ~~
Last week James had talked me into spending a little more than expected on a used import 6 speed that made my heart race with happiness when I shifted through the gears. Not that I was hard to convince. I fell in love with the curves of the sports model and the way the engine jumped at my command.
Trevor has officers stationed outside the preschool, and they usually give me a small salute once I close up and I’m passing them on the way out. It makes me feel safe, even though I”m careful to pull out onto the road slowly and not squeal the tires like I want to do. James also clips pepper spray onto my new keychain. I stare at it occasionally when the keys are lying on my desk, wondering if I’d be able to use it on my own brother.
Emilie discovers I”m staying at her house and begs to come home. She and Becca spend Wednesday night piled on top of me and each other while I read stories after dinner. I grin at James when he hovers at the doorframe. He seems nervous about my reaction to their enthusiasm. But I love the giggles, the press of their warm little bodies, and the crazy turns their conversations take.
We settle into a routine I love. James makes breakfast while I put together Emilie’s lunch for the day and we rush out the door. He insists on still driving Emilie to preschool when I offer, so I can prepare for my day in the morning and wind down on the drive back. After work we make dinner together, or pick up takeout, and eat together at the “Castle Table” as Emilie calls the formal dining table because the chairs have arms “like thrones” and she calls me the “queen”. It isn’t until after James and I each read a book and Emilie is tucked in for the night that things are at all... Tense? We dance around each other, giving long looks, but neither of us making any moves.
James teaches me to shoot pool. He demonstrates, then helps me line up a shot. The warmth of his arms around me makes my head spin, and none of those shots hit their mark. I wonder if he thinks I’m missing on purpose. I go to bed alone with wet panties, feverishly trying to take that edge off on my own.
I watch his muscles move as we swim in the heated water of the pool, sip our beers, and talk about our days. Then we rush back into the house with towels draped around us to ward off the cold spring winds. I don”t miss the heated looks he gives me in the two piece suit I bought.
We sit in the game room at opposite ends of the couch. Him with his thriller, and me reading on my tablet. I tuck my toes under his leg to keep them warm. But really to feel his leg flex.
We take Emilie on a whale watching tour on the weekend, and she stands between us, each of her hands holding one of ours. It feels like family.
But James always makes the decision to head to bed first. He disappears quickly, not leaving an opening for anything additional. I’m becoming frustrated by his refusal to acknowledge the conflicting ease and tension between us.
By the end of the second week, my nerves are a little frayed. I’m still waiting for an answer on my offer to buy the preschool. I’m expecting Bray to jump out at every turn. My body is ultra-sensitive from the constant state of arousal I’m in from watching James’s tenderness and teasing with Emilie, his smooth movements in the kitchen, and the drips from the pool following the lines of his tattoos.
Late Thursday afternoon, I’ve just hit the Send button to email this week’s invoices. I’m alone in my shared office since it’s Ana’s turn to man the dismissal crowd. Mrs. Corbyn stalks up to my desk. She has her bag on her shoulder and her keys in her hand.
I wonder what fault she will point out this time. Monday, the milk delivery had been left on the counter for seven whole minutes before I managed to sign off and put the tray in the refrigerator. I got a lecture on e. coli, salmonella, and listeria that lasted longer than the span of the assumed contamination time.
Yesterday, the coloring pages for this morning’s arrival activity weren’t waiting in the correct basket in the main room. Rather than moving the stack to the next basket herself, she’d made sure I knew they were misplaced. She’d made me reprimand Ana in front of her.
My phone has just announced a text from James, and I peek at the preview as Mrs. Corbyn taps her foot, waiting for acknowledgement.
“Have a last minute 911, do you mind brin—”
I know at least one of our spare car seats remains not checked out, so it isn’t a problem for me to bring Emilie home with me. I’ve offered many times.
“Miss Mills.” Oh, she”s pulled out the Brigadier General tone. I must really be in trouble. She sniffs.
“Yes, Mrs. Corbyn?”
“I’ve decided to accept your proposal.”
“I’m s—” The automatic apology is almost out of my mouth. “Wait. What?”
“I’ve decided to accept your proposal.” It’s the same words but the delivery even icier. I almost fall out of my chair.
“I’ve already sent the signed documents to your attorney. Today will be my last day.” She strides out before I can make another sound.
I sit unblinking for a moment with my mouth open while it sinks in. Then I let out a scream and kick my feet under my desk. Oh. My. God. It’s mine!
There’s so much to do! I’m pulling out the binder I carry around with me, re-reading the steps I need to take next, when Ana pokes her head into the office. “You okay, Lai?”
“How would you like a promotion?”
Her face looks as surprised as I felt a second ago. “Well, yes!” She finally says.
The bell rings at the front with another parent picking up. “We’ll talk about it on Monday,” I tell her with a smile.
I call Emilie into the office and let her know she’ll be riding home with me. “In the race car?” she asks with a hopeful grin.
“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her.
She jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “Yay!” She stops on her way out the door and looks back at me. “Can we get ice cream for dinner, too?” She’s been asking for that since she was last at Trevor’s and James was video chatting with the girls before bedtime. She’d asked what we had for dinner. James had grabbed sandwiches, but I was walking behind him just then and announced, “Strawberry Ice Cream!”
James had pretended to be super grouchy about it, but the piles of giggles on the other end made it worth it.
“Absolutely!” I say with a wink.
I send an email off to my attorney to confirm receipt of the paperwork, and he comes back right away with a digital copy of the documents that had just arrived in an overnight package. I’m practically jumping up and down like Emilie over ice cream.
She got a double chocolate scoop, and I got a lemon cheesecake concoction, and she’s very solemn when she promises not to spill a drip on my car seat. We get home and carry our cups and bags carefully balanced into the front door and I punch in the code to disarm the alarm.
The door slams open all the way, and Emilie drops her cup, chocolate pooling on the tile. I turn and Bray is standing there with a vicious look on his face. “Thought you could hide from me in this Richey Rich house, Lai?”
“Emilie. Red.” I say quietly, and I sense her backing toward the stairs. She taught me this exercise that James has made a point of practicing with her. Suddenly, I’m not afraid.
“You don’t get to have this”, Bray yells, motioning with his other hand. “While all I have are scraps to live on!”
I know he’s going to try to drag me out the front door, and I know I need it closed. I back up a step and he advances just enough to clear the door.
I shove my bag into his chest, throw my ice cream into his face and kick the front door closed. Then I run.
Emilie is only halfway up the steps, so I swing her up, sprint into the master bedroom, into the closet, across the adjoined bathroom and through the door on the far side.
Bray is barely a step behind me, and he’s reaching for me when I set Emilie down and she hits the red button with her little fist.
The steel door slams shut almost before he can pull his fingers out of the way.
I can barely hear him pounding on the door, but we watch on one of the multiple screens next to the door.
He backs up and lunges. I flinch, but the door doesn’t even shake when he throws his shoulder against it. He gives a couple of solid kicks before he backs up and crosses his arms.
Emilie pushes another button on the console and counts, “One, two, three.” We watch the screens as the lights go out around the house and shutters come down over the windows. “Gotcha, sucker!” She yells with her fist in the air. I have to chuckle and shake my head at her blood thirsty display.
With another press of a button, there’s a ringing and I see Trevor’s face show up on the smallest screen, the one next to the speaker. He looks terrified. “Em, I see you. Tell me you’re okay!”
“I’m okay, Uncle Trev. But there’s a bad man in the house. He tried to get Mizzz Mills.”
“Is she with you?”
I step over in front of the camera. “I’m here. The house is on lock down.”
“Where’s James?” he demands.
“He’s on a call. I don’t know how long he’ll be.” His face relaxes a little.
“Uncle Trevor?”
“Yes, baby girl?”
“I dropped my ice cream dinner.”
“It’s okay, Em. We’ll get you more ice cream.” He takes a breath. “Miss Mills?”
“Lai,” I correct him without thinking.
“Lai. I have to hang up to call my guys in. Don’t leave the room until James or I call you back.”
“Yes, sir.”