8. Cecelia
Isat on the floor with a movie on the television. I really wished I had a bigger table that would let me spread my scrapbooking supplies out. I needed to see what I had and be able to get at it as I updated and decorated my planner.
I lived by my planner. It helped me get through classes and make sure I never missed an exam. I still loved my planner. It held all my personal organizational notes, like when payday was and when I would have enough money to pay my bills. I also kept little notes like when I thought Sterling Alexander was going to kiss me in it.
That was for me. That wasn’t document-document-document so I could build a case against him for a hostile work environment, or anything like that. No, that note was so that I knew someone like him could be attracted to someone like me.
I leaned over and grabbed a stack of sticker books. I was flipping through a collection of Girl Boss and positive affirmation statements when there was a sharp knock on my door.
“The fuck?” I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Give me a second!” I called out as I extricated myself from the mess of my crafting session.
The knock sounded again.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said hold on.” Breath left my body as I yanked the door open and saw Sterling Alexander standing there looking like a super spy.
He was fine, and it took every ounce of my professional demeanor to not be distracted by how attractive that man was every time I stood in his downtown luxury penthouse apartment. I suspected he owned the apartment, and more than likely, the building. But I wasn’t at work right now, and he was in a tuxedo.
I swallowed hard and tried to talk.
“Good, you’re home.” He swept inside with a car seat carrier in his hands. Georgie was wide-eyed and looking around. She had a stuffed ducky she chewed on. Good, he had gotten her at least one toy.
“Mr. Alexander,” I managed to croak out. “What are you doing here?”
“You need to watch Georgie.” He continued into my small space and looked around him. “This place is a mess. How are you supposed to watch her? You left scissors on the floor, and you have the nerve to be critical of my house?”
He placed the car seat on the floor in the middle of the living room. “Do you have something you can feed her?” He pulled a billfold from his inner jacket packet.
I kept blinking in stunned shock. The man looked like some model for bridal fashions or something in his formal tux, and he kept talking as if I knew what was happening.
He began peeling bills from the stack in his wallet. Holding out a handful of bills toward me, he shook his fist. With his other hand, he reached forward and grasped my hand. It felt like a thousand bolts of electricity pricked my skin. He placed the money into my hand.
“You should be able to have something delivered. You don’t have diapers here, do you?” He scanned the area around Georgie’s car seat. It was covered in stickers, paper punches, glue sticks, and washi tape, but no diapers, no bottles.
“Ah, I left the diaper bag in the limo. I’ll be right back.”
He left.
Georgie made a happy giggling sound, and I looked at her. She smiled at me. It was good to see her happy. I guess things were improving at their home.
Sterling walked right back in, as if he had every right to come and go from my apartment as he pleased.
“Diaper bag,” he announced as he placed the bag next to the car seat.
“What are you doing here?” I finally came to my senses.
“You need to?—”
“You said that, but that doesn’t answer my question.” I stared at him, my professional demeanor back with a vengeance. I completely separated his overt attractiveness from his being my client. I had stopped staring at him as an attractive man and started staring at him as a client who should not be here.
“I have an event this evening. You need to watch Georgie. That’s your job, isn’t it?”
I blew out a long puff of air and shook my head with large sweeps of motion that almost made me dizzy. “How many times have I told you I’m not a nanny?”
“Yes, I know. But when I called your agency about sending over a nanny to watch Georgie, they told me I needed to be in contact with you.”
“Mr. Alexander, Sterling, my place of work is closed. It has been for hours. If you called them, why am I just now hearing about this?”
“I don’t have time, Cecelia. Watch the baby. I will be back late. I’m already late as it is.”
He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
He turned and it looked like he was considering what I said, clueing in that he couldn’t simply drop Georgie off at my apartment.
“Right.” He reached into the inner pocket and pulled out a folded-up postcard and handed it to me. “This has the information on it.”
Reluctantly, I took the postcard. It was red and gold, and before I had a chance to read anything on it, Sterling stepped out of my apartment and closed the door behind him.
The entitlement… the arrogant… How dare he? I dropped the postcard and ran out the door after him. The concrete outside was rough on my bare feet. I dashed down the stairs and did my best to get across the parking area to where he stood next to a waiting limo.
He was unbuttoning his jacket and laughing. I could see someone inside the car waiting for him. He slid into the car.
“Wait!” I yelled as he leaned out to grab the door handle.
He paused and looked at me.
I stared at him and at the woman he was sitting next to. She was stunning, lots of expensive jewelry, smoky makeup, and a designer red dress. My gut clenched. I was going to have to put a sticker over my little memory note that this man had tried to kiss me. That was a memory clearly best forgotten.
“Did she just leave the baby alone?” the woman asked.
“She’s in a car seat, she’s not going anywhere. And right now, neither should you,” I snarled.
“We can talk about this later, Cecelia. I’m expected, and we are late,” Sterling chastised me.
“We can talk about this now,” I said. “How did you even find out where I live?”
“Go back inside, Cecelia. I will compensate you for your time.”
“Seriously? You think this is about money? Sterling, you simply cannot just show up and expect me to be able to watch Georgie because you have a party to go to.”
“It’s not a party. Go back inside. I don’t have time for this.”
He pulled the door closed. I had to jump back before my fingers got closed in the door or the limo ran over my toes.
“What the actual hell?” I yelled after him as they drove off.
I picked my way across the parking lot, tiny rocks biting into the bottoms of my feet as I hobbled along. I can’t believe the arrogance of that man to just drop Georgie off. As if I were set up to take care of his kid. Was this some kind of retribution because the agency I worked for basically did that to him when they dropped her off?
“What the heck, kid?” I asked the baby when I got back inside. She complained and kicked. I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be restrained in a car seat either.
I cast my gaze around my mess. It wasn’t safe to take her out. And she shouldn’t be here, anyway. It wasn’t like he had called me and planned for me to babysit. I wasn’t supposed to do things like that, but honestly, if he had asked, I would have. But this? This wasn’t right.
With a huff and a growl, I started to gather up my supplies. “I need to make it so you won’t get into anything,” I said to Georgie.
She started to fuss more, and then she made a face, and… I sighed. She needed a diaper change. I picked up the diaper bag and started to sort through it. Everything was new and still wrapped in plastic and in the original container. I got the impression this was one of those pre-stocked diaper bags. It had everything a diaper bag should have, including diapers. The first one I pulled out was for an infant. It was far too small for Georgie.
I kept rummaging and pulling out more diapers. There was a small collection of diapers in different sizes. Finding one I figured would fit her, I got everything set up before I released Georgie from the car seat.
“Okay, sweetie, it’s time for new pants. And then I think we’re gonna have to go find out what Uncle Sterling thinks he’s getting away with. My time may not seem important to him, but it’s my time. And as adorable as you are, you are not my responsibility. It’s not that I don’t want to spend the evening playing with you. I have plans, boring, lonely plans with stickers and my date book, and there was going to be wine and ice cream later. It’s more about setting boundaries. Just because your uncle is hot, and rich, it doesn’t mean he can get away with this.”
She cooed.
I took it as an agreement.