Chapter 32
MAX
I’m sitting at the back of the courtroom waiting for my case to be called when what sounds like a fucking circus bursts through the courtroom doors.
Every head whips around, even the judge’s, to see what the hell is causing all the commotion. I freeze, momentarily stunned.
It’s Paige. Paige, holding a baby in her arms. Alfie, I believe; it has to be him. He looks like the photos she’s shown me of him, and he’s wailing, red-faced and frantic. But it’s not just that. Her hair’s down—Paige never wears her hair down in court—and she looks completely undone.
Disheveled. Exhausted.
She’s juggling a stroller, awkwardly pushing it down the gallery aisle with one hand, Alfie clutched to her hip with the other, her workbag barely hanging from her shoulder. It’s chaos, and she’s in the middle of it, and somehow, I am too.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, as she gasps for breath.
“Ms. Bradshaw?” The judge addresses her. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor… my nanny… she called in sick…
and my car… is at the garage.” She struggles to get her words out, then covers her mouth with her hand as if she’s sick herself.
“And I’m… Oh, God… I think I might throw up…
” She doesn’t finish her sentence as Alfie continues to cry in her arms, sounding unhappy and disgruntled.
“This is a courtroom, not a daycare, Ms. Bradshaw. Sit down or get out.” The judge points to the courtroom doors.
Paige holds her stomach as she tries to bounce Alfie up and down on her hip to soothe him. “Your Honor, I have a case on this morning’s docket. I’m sorry, I… I’m not feeling well, but I had to come…”
Judge Balfour stares at her. He’s stern, but I can tell how concerned he is. “Ma’am, slow down.”
Paige pants, bouncing Alfie over and over, unsteady on her feet, and struggling.
“What case?” the judge asks matter-of-factly, peering over the top of his glasses.
“Forbes custody matter.”
The judge eyes the baby, then signals to the bailiff. “Please assist Ms. Bradshaw. Ms. Bradshaw, do you need medical attention?”
“No, I’m fine, really.” She sways on her feet slightly, gripping the stroller for balance, and I’m on my feet in seconds. Shit, she’s going to topple over with Alfie in her arms.
Much firmer now, Judge Balfour booms, “Court is in recess. Ms. Bradshaw, sit down now, let’s get someone to help you.”
She doesn’t need someone, she needs me; they both do. I’m running to her, by her side and scooping a screaming Alfie out of her arms as the judge finishes his sentence.
Taking Paige’s hand, I gently usher her to a seat and tell her to sit down.
“Hey, hey, little fella. It’s okay. You’re okay,” I coo, trying to settle a distressed Alfie. He’s not sick; I think he’s sensing Paige’s unwell state and hysterical morning.
According to Nathan, babies pick up on things like that, which is why he has Arianna working minimum hours.
He doesn’t want her or the baby being stressed.
See… he’s a fool for her, as I am for Paige and her little boy, whose sobs have begun to die down, his little chest stuttering as he gulps in fresh air.
“You don’t look so good, Paige,” I tell her. She looks green.
“I feel terrible.” Her eyes roll back into her head as I snuggle Alfie into my chest without a care that he’s covering my new suit in snot and drool.
“We’ll call you a cab, Ms. Bradshaw.” The bailiff appears by my side.
“I’ll take her home. She knows me and trusts me.
We’ve worked together for years, and I know who to contact at her office to inform them she’s unwell.
” Luckily, I brought my RSQ8 today. I had a different kind of court date planned with my brothers after work.
Looks like tennis will have to wait. “Do you think you can walk to the front of the building, Paige?”
“Maybe.” Her reply is faint.
I lay the back of my hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up.” She feels clammy. “I’m going to take you home, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies. I know she’s sick, or she’d be fighting me and telling me to go fuck myself.
“Find me a rear-facing car seat for the baby, he’s only one.
” I look at the bailiff. “From anyone, and I’ll have it returned as soon as I’m finished with it.
And here are my car keys. Can you retrieve my car from the underground parking lot and bring it around the front?
It’s a burnt orange color, gold wheels.” I hand him my key fob for my one-of-a-kind sports car.
“Push the brake pedal and the start button to start it.” With seven hundred brake horsepower, it’s a beast of a car. I hope he loves taking her for a spin.
He smiles as if reading my mind. “Yes, sir. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you out front.”
“And can you grab my briefcase and pop it in the back seat of my car, please? I would be very grateful.” I point to where I was sitting in the gallery.
“Of course, sir.” He leaves without another word, taking my briefcase with him as he exits the courtroom.
I look at the judge and give him my name, then request for my case and Paige’s to be rescheduled.
“Approved, given the circumstances, Mr. Hart. I’ll reschedule the hearings.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Awkwardly, because I’m not good with wriggling babies, I place Alfie into his stroller, struggling with the clip to secure him.
“There we go.” I look up at Alfie, who is all big watery eyes and snotty nose.
He shoots me a huge smile, showing off the only two front teeth he has, as if he’s grateful for my calm in his chaotic morning. He’s cute.
“C’mon, buddy, let’s get Momma home,” I tell him, noticing he’s still wearing his pajamas from last night. How she managed to even get herself dressed is anyone’s guess.
Paige isn’t just tenacious; she’s feisty and wouldn’t ask for help unless she’s about to keel over, just like she is this morning, clearly having caught the bug that’s been doing the rounds at work. Sounds like her nanny did too.
“Momma.” Alfie looks up at her, pointing his chunky digits at her.
“Yeah, Momma.” I mimic back and point to her too.
“Ohhh, Momma isn’t well,” she grumbles, a faint smile tugging at the edge of her mouth, doing a shitty attempt at feigning happiness.
She’s usually the picture of class and control: elegant, immaculate, untouchable. But today, she looks nothing like that. Pale, disheveled, swaying even while sitting down.
I need to get her into bed.
Normally, that thought would come with a smirk and a dirty punchline. But not now. Not this time. Nope, this time, it’s not about bending her to my will; it’s about holding her up, keeping her safe. Nursing her, not ruining her.
Picking up her workbag, I throw it over my shoulder and round the stroller, getting ready to push it, something I’ve never done in my life, but how hard can it be? Surely it’s just like riding a bike.
Threading my fingers into Paige’s, I urge her to stand up. “C’mon, Paige. Let’s get you home.”
She takes my hand without question.
I don’t care if anyone sees us because this isn’t about work. She’s unwell and struggling today; she needs me, and I’m going to be there for her. Forget the case we’re working on together; this is more important.
“Atta girl,” I say once she’s on her feet, and I guide her back up the aisle toward the exit, steering Alfie’s stroller with one hand. “I’ll have you home in no time.” That’s if I can manage to steer this damn stroller that’s testing me, its wheels rolling this way and that.
She leans her head to the side and rests it on my shoulder. If she was firing on all cylinders today, she wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole in public.
Pathetic of me perhaps, but I like that she needs me today, and I was here for her.
Slowly, the three of us move out of the courtroom, through the cavernous building and down the steps that lead us out of the Superior Court.
Within minutes, the bailiff, whose name I didn’t catch, arrives in my car, the engine purring like an angry tiger. Fuck she sounds nice.
“How many cars do you have?” Paige asks, all delirious and woozy sounding.
“A few.” Ten plus a motorcycle. Which reminds me, I haven’t been out on my Yamaha YZF-R1 in months.
It’s about time I took her for a ride. What can I say, I like fast cars, bikes, throwing myself out of planes and off cliffs, bungee jumping; I do anything that shoots my adrenaline into hyperspace and beyond.
A halfhearted “Your car is really cool” comes out of Paige’s mouth.
Under normal circumstances, she’d be scolding me for being a show-off and fuck knows what else, but today she likes my car, and I’ll hold on to that, knowing she’s being honest and not hiding behind her sarcastic comments.
She likes me, I know she does, she just can’t bring herself to admit it. I know she hates herself for liking me. I’m the opposition. The competition. And that doesn’t sit well with her.
But that’s okay. I have a plan to change that.
Too soon perhaps? Probably.
Do I care that I’m being hasty? Absolutely-fucking-not.
Alfie claps his hands as we arrive at my car and starts chanting, “Ca, ca, ca.”
I look over the stroller, down at him. “Do you like Max’s car?”
“Ca, ca, ca.” He bounces up and down in his stroller. “Man’s got great taste.” I chuckle and turn to Paige who is trying desperately to smile, but her resilience is fading fast.
“Right, let’s get you in the car first, Paige.”
The bailiff steps away from my car and points to the seat he has already installed for Alfie, which needs to be returned by the end of the day, and he informs me there’s a sickness bag in the side pocket he also placed there.
“What’s your name?” I ask him, digging my wallet out of my pocket.
“Cliff.”
“Well, Cliff, you saved my life today, so thank you.” I pass him two hundred bucks for his kindness then ask him to watch Alfie while I buckle Paige into the passenger seat of my car.
She doesn’t put up a fight because she has nothing left in her. Next, with ease I surprise myself by placing Alfie in the car seat in the back, securing him, and double-checking that the car seat buckle is locked in place.
“Well, would you look at that, Alfie. Max did it.” This parenting thing is a piece of cake. One day I’ll tell Nathan I got it the first time, unlike him when they went to buy one. Arianna said he almost lost it in the store because he couldn’t figure it out. Old fucker.
Alfie claps his hands as if congratulating me on a job well done. Yup, he’s cute.
When I shut the door, sealing Alfie inside, I’m surprised to see Cliff has already collapsed the stroller and is stuffing it into the trunk along with Paige’s workbag, and another bag I noticed was haphazardly tucked under the stroller in the storage basket.
“You’ve done this before.” I laugh, scratching my head. I wouldn’t have a clue how to fold the complicated-looking thing.
“I have five kids.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.” Cliff chuckles before patting me on the shoulder and tells me the car key is in the center console. “I hope she recovers quickly.”
Me too. I hate seeing her suffer.
“Thanks, Cliff.” I couldn’t have done this without him.
I jump into my car, adjusting my rearview mirror to get a better look at Alfie’s reflection on the car seat handle mirror. He seems right at home in the back.
Turning my head to check on Paige, I discover she already has her eyes closed and is half asleep. Good, she needs to rest.
I flick the turn signal to indicate I’m merging into traffic, check my mirrors before pulling away from the sidewalk, and when I press the gas pedal, Alfie starts making car noises, which makes me laugh.
“Brrrrrmmm. Brrrrrmmm.” He makes motor noises with his mouth.
“You like cars, Alfie?” I ask, knowing he won’t answer.
He babbles excitedly. “Brrrrrmmm. Brrrrrmmm.” I glance at him in the mirror and laugh again as his chubby cheeks puff out, as he continues to mimic the engine’s growl.
He’s lucky to have Paige in his life. He’s such a happy soul, and I know that’s all down to her.
As I drive toward Paige’s house, I can’t help but think about how natural this feels. Paige in the passenger seat, baby on board. Not something I ever thought I’d want. I’m a free spirit; commitment’s never been my thing, but somehow, this feels right.