Chapter 38 Zane
Zane
If there’s anything I’ve learned about becoming an overnight dad to a baby who is teething and misses his mom, it’s that you can’t negotiate with them. Turns out the man-to-man moment I had with Bentley over milk and beer wasn’t honored. Or it became null and void once Ashlyn left.
In her defense, I kicked her out.
In my defense, I thought she betrayed me.
Of course, I also thought I could handle Little Man on my own.
I was wrong about one of those things. Gravely wrong.
And I have the under-eye bags and crow’s feet to prove it.
It’s so bad that not even the world’s most potent vitamin C serum can save me now.
I spent a week trying to find babysitters I trust, only to decide I trust exactly zero of them.
Combined with very little sleep, I am starting to think nothing can save me now.
CPS hasn’t been much help either. Nikki is MIA and figuring out what custody is going to look like in the long run hasn’t been easy. Since I am Bentley’s father and no one has seen or heard from Nikki, this is where we are at for now.
It’s safe to say that Nigel is not happy about it. And he’s even less happy when I have to bring Bentley to work with me.
“You do know they have these things called daycares?” Nigel asks as I pull a fussy Bentley from his car seat and cradle him in one arm while trying to prep a bottle with the other.
“You do know how sketchy most of them are, right?” I ask. “Also, those places need a lot of paperwork. And for the most part, I don’t have any of it.”
“You have his birth certificate,” he says, staring at Bentley like he’s some sort of infestation in his office.
“Yes. But I don’t have his Social Security card. Or info on which pediatrician he goes to. Or his medical history or–”
“I got it, I got it,” Nigel nods and waves a hand to cut me off. “Still, Zane. We can’t have a baby in the office all the time.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I say, stifling Bentley’s cries with a bottle of milk. He calms down, I sit down, and Nigel lets out a frustrated breath.
“Alright,” he says. “But that still doesn’t solve the other issues we have right now.”
“Let me guess. Me and Ashlyn splitting up is bad for my image.”
“Actually, you becoming a single father has shot the ratings through the roof. The only thing hotter than you being a family man in love is you being a hot single dad.”
“So what’s the problem then?” I ask, even though I hate all of that.
“The problem is that doing beachfront photoshoots of you or any kind of photoshoot for that matter is going to be impossible if you don’t have someone to watch the baby.”
“I’ll find someone,” I snap. Not that I know how, who, or anything else. Honestly, I’ve grown a bit protective of the Little Man. And Ashlyn was the only person I trusted with him. Her and maybe Demi.
“So what happened between you two, anyways?” he asks.
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“Obviously. The two of you have always been complicated. But what made her pack her bags?” he asks.
“I broke it off,” I say, and Nigel’s eyes widen.
“You sent her packing? Jesus. Don’t let the press know that. The single dad gig is only hot if it looks like you were left.”
“She took those photos,” I say in my defense, and Nigel gives me the same look Cal did.
“How could she have? She’s in some of them.”
“Maybe she hired someone,” I say, and Nigel lets out an unconvinced Mm sound in reply.
“Listen, Zane. I don’t know this girl other than the fact she works for Sigma. But from what I have seen in photos people have taken of you two out and about, it doesn’t look fake to me. It doesn’t look like she’s just playing the part.”
“How can you tell?” I ask. “Women can fake feelings.”
“They can fake chemistry or adoration, sure. Especially if they have an ulterior motive. But candid, unfiltered love? That’s a little harder to do. If not impossible.”
I shoot Nigel a look. Because who does he think he is? Bentley starts to wriggle and fuss. He needs to be burped and changed, and Nigel’s expression returns to normal.
“Listen, do what you want about the Ashlyn situation. We can recover, but you need to find childcare. Because this…” he points at Bentley with a ballpoint pen, “isn’t going to work.”
As irritated as I am with him, I know he’s right. It’s not working for me either. I need to figure something out and fast.
That night, I meet up with Cal and his sister Natalie, Bentley in tow. We go to a burger joint that luckily has great salads. All this stress has knocked me off the wagon, and I’m going to have to run and jump to get back on. Photoshop and filters can only do so much.
“This little boy is just precious,” Natalie says, holding a happily cooing Bentley. I hate to admit it, but it’s very obvious he needs a woman’s touch.
I feel a sudden tinge of guilt. Poor little guy must be so confused.
“So have you talked to her?” Cal asks, and my smile turns a little.
“No,” I say.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Because I don’t know what I am supposed to say.”
“How about sorry for accusing her of trying to ruin your life?” he asks, and I set my fork down with a clamor.
“Cal. Someone took those photos,” I say.
“Of course,” he agrees casually.
“Someone at Sigma,” I say.
“But she’s not the only one that works for Sigma.
Hell, you know as well as I do that the bosses of those magazines pit their photographers against each other.
The only thing better than competition with other magazines is rivalry within a magazine.
It’s a dirty business, you know this,” he says, taking a bite.
I pick my fork up and dig back into my salad. Yes, I do know. It’s disgusting how dirty it is.
“Can you think of anyone else who would take photos like that?” Natalie asks while bouncing Bentley.
I take in a breath and let it out, shaking my head. “That’s the thing. I don’t actually know any photographers. It’s not like they ever talk to the people they are snapping pics of.”
“Okay, so do you know anyone who would hire a photographer?” she asks. “To defame you.”
I strain to think of someone who would want to see my life fall apart, not just professionally, but my personal life too.
“Jett,” Cal says, and I snap my fingers.
“That’s what I was about to say,” I tell him, and Cal shakes his head.
“No, I mean Jett. He’s here. Eleven o’clock,” he says. I look up and sure enough, Jett is here. I swear, even at nearly four million, this city is too small, and he’s headed right for us.
“Well, if it isn’t the underwear world’s most single dad,” he grins.
“What do you want, Jett?” Cal snaps.
“So that’s the kid, huh?” he asks, looking down at Bentley, and heat rises in my chest like Godzilla. I sit up straight, and Cal holds out a hand to me to keep calm.
“Again, what do you want?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he grins, “I was just having lunch and saw you three, sorry four, and thought I’d say hello.”
“Hi. And goodbye,” Cal says, but of course Jett doesn’t walk away. He obviously came over here to get a jab in, and he’s not going to leave until it draws blood.
“I saw your recent photoshoot,” he says. And there it is. “Quite the set. Any idea who took them?”
“I have my suspicions,” I mutter, and I can feel Jett studying me.
“Wait. You don’t think it was Ashlyn, do you?” he asks with a grin.
“I don’t think there’s a point to this conversation anymore,” Cal warns, but Jett either doesn’t pick up on it or doesn’t care.
“Listen, even for a skilled photographer, that would be some fancy footwork. I’m thinking it had to have been someone else. Someone who knows your house well.”
Jett walks away, and Cal flips him off once his back is to us.
“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” Natalie says. “Just ignore him.”
Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done, but not because he got to me. I don’t care about Jett Navarro’s opinion enough to let his words get to me. But there is one thing he said that I can’t help but wonder about.
Someone who knows your house well.
If it wasn’t Ashlyn, then whoever it was is someone who knows the layout.
Someone who has been sneaking around long enough to know my patterns, the layout, and my routines.
Someone who knows me. I don’t often get close enough to people to really get to know them.
But unfortunately, in the industry I live in, that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t obsessed enough over my life to figure me out.
If I was wrong, I hurt Ashlyn for no reason. The idea of that possibility makes me want to throw up. It also sends a chill up my spine.