22. Vaughn
TWENTY-TWO
VAUGHN
The Midtown job was hanging on by a thread, but walking around the site and talking to the site superintendent didn’t fill me with the kind of dread it had a month ago.
I went to the office and talked to Jim about the dire straits our company would be in if I didn’t find an investor and wriggle out of the legal battle that seemed almost inevitable at this point.
And I hardly cared.
All I wanted to do was get back to Alba. Lock myself in my house and spend time with her. Watch that genuine smile spread over her face. Kiss every inch of her body. Get to know all her secrets.
I made sure she was free for dinner, but even the few hours that we were apart seemed too long. I threw myself into work to distract myself.
I called Charlotte at the usual time when I was still in the office, smiling when she answered, the video shook, and her gap-toothed smile came onscreen.
I’d called her daily when Alba had been at my house, ducking into my office to make the call.
It would be just over a week until she was back with me.
“Hey, turkey.”
“Hi. Me and mom and Dale”—that was Tiffany’s new husband—“had a snowball fight and I got snow all down my back, but I got Dale good.”
“I didn’t think there was enough snow for a snowball fight,” I said, glancing out my office windows. This high up, I felt disconnected from the world.
“Duh,” Charlotte said, smiling. “Maybe you and me can have one! I’m good at making snowballs and Dale said I have a pitcher’s arm.”
“Did he?” I forced a smile, something like disquiet slithering through me. We spoke for a while longer, Charlotte telling me all about her day. Then I said, “All right turkey, put your mom on. I need to talk to her about something.”
“Okay. Love you!”
“Love you too. See you soon.”
“For a snowball fight!”
“For a snowball fight,” I confirmed. The phone shuffled, and a new face came on. “Hi, Tiff.”
“Still at work, I see,” she said, seeing my background. Her brows arched; she wasn’t surprised.
“It’s a busy period,” I said defensively, heat rising up the back of my neck.
“I thought winters were the slow time for you?”
“Do we have to do this again?”
Tiffany took a deep breath, gathered herself, and shook her head. “No. We don’t. What’s up?”
“I’ve got an event to go to in a couple of weeks. I was hoping you’d take Charlotte a week early.”
“You want to swap weeks?”
“Well…” I glanced at my computer screen, where emails poured in. Once this subcontractor was dealt with, and I’d bagged Noble as a new investor, and the lawsuit was handled…
Tiff sighed. “Of course I’ll take her. What’s the event?”
“Just some charity thing. It’s for work.”
“Uh-huh,” my ex-wife replied, looking unsurprised and unimpressed. “Fine. You know I love having Lottie here. Just send me the dates and I’ll shuffle things around.”
“Thanks, Tiff.”
“Yep.” She gave me a closed-lipped smile and hung up the phone.
Sighing, I turned back to my computer, but my fingers hovered over the keyboard and mouse. That conversation had been familiar. Me, needing more time for work. Tiffany, being disappointed but not surprised.
But I was doing this for them, I reminded myself. Growing the business was for my kid. I worked to make sure she had everything I needed. Tiffany benefited from that.
Bolstered by the familiar thoughts, I blocked out the doubts that tried to creep in. Doubts that told me I already had more than enough money to provide a good life for my child. I’d already secured my legacy. Saving and growing the construction company was simply a matter of my pride.
Brushing those thoughts away, I turned to my computer and got back to work.
A couple hours later, I picked Alba up at her apartment building.
She walked out the front door wearing a dark orange silk dress with her jacket thrown over the top, open to reveal the liquid fall of the fabric of her dress.
Gold jewelry glittered at her neck and in her ears.
I straightened from where I’d been leaning on the side of the car, dazzled by her beauty.
“You look amazing,” I said after I kissed her.
She smiled. “It’s nice to be able to wear some of my old clothes.” Her fingers touched the dark orange fabric, then moved to adjust my jacket’s collar. “Where are we going? No driver today?”
“It’s a surprise,” I said, grinning, then opened my car door for her.
“I figured I could drive, for a change.” She moved gracefully, tucking herself into the seat and checking that her dress had cleared the doorway before looking up at me and smiling.
I closed the door and circled to the driver’s side.
When I’d pulled into traffic, I placed my hand on her thigh.
The fabric of her dress was soft and buttery beneath my touch, and her leg was warm.
She let out a sigh, leaning against the headrest.
“You okay?”
In my peripheral vision, I saw her turn to glance at me. “I’m good,” she replied. “It was weird going back home after being at your place for so long.”
I hummed. “I couldn’t wait for the day to end so I could take you out,” I admitted.
Her smile was soft but bright, and she shifted to rest her hand on top of mine. It was easy to touch her, to feel the intimacy building between us.
I parked a couple of blocks away from our destination in a parking garage, then helped Alba out of the car and threaded my fingers through hers.
Our steps echoed against the concrete walls, and we made our way down to street level together.
The wind was cold, and I enjoyed the way Alba tucked herself against me as we walked.
Finally, we reached our destination. A window gave a view into a crowded restaurant, with families and couples sitting at small tables sharing gigantic pizzas. Gold lettering arched over the window, proclaiming the name of the owner. We’d arrived at Ralphie’s.
Alba watched me pull open the door for her and arched her brow. “I might be overdressed,” she noted.
“You look perfect.” My hand found the small of her back as I followed her inside, and we stopped at the hostess stand where I gave my name.
A moment later, an old man with tufts of white hair sticking out under his worn, black baseball cap came out of the swinging kitchen door.
“Vaughn!” Ralphie called out, smiling wide.
He dropped a pie on one of the tables, slapped a patron on the shoulder, then turned toward us.
“When you called, I thought someone was pranking me. Back to the old stomping grounds, hey?”
I grinned. “Had to come by and see if you’d finally fixed this place up.”
“Never,” Ralphie promised, then turned to Alba. “Vaughn told me I had to pull out the red carpet for you.”
Alba’s gaze slid over to me, and she arched a brow. “Did he, now?”
Ralphie grinned. “But he didn’t tell me you were a stunner. Wow! What are you doing with him? I’ve got a grandson?—”
“All right, all right,” I cut in, laughing. “That’s enough.”
Ralphie’s eyes twinkled as he met my gaze. “You’ve finally cleaned yourself up,” he noted.
“Can’t say the same about you, old man.”
He guffawed and turned to Alba. “I met this guy when he was this tall.” Ralphie held up his hand at about eye level. “He was all elbows. Cost me a fortune every time he knocked something over.”
“It happened twice,” I said, rolling my eyes and fighting my smile. “And I knocked over a can of tomatoes that cost a couple bucks.”
“Like I said, a fortune.”
Alba laughed and looked at me. “First job?”
“Had no idea what I was getting myself into,” I said, nodding. “But Ralphie introduced me to his brother, who got me into contracting. Got a soft spot for him even though he’s hard to put up with.”
Ralphie groaned. “Don’t listen to him. Full of shit as usual. Pardon the French.”
Alba laughed and glanced around the dining room at all the busy tables, and I knew she was wondering where we’d squeeze in.
Not one single chair was unoccupied, and no one looked like they were leaving anytime soon.
Then Ralph swept his arm toward the swinging door where he’d first appeared, and Alba glanced at me questioningly.
“Best seat in the house,” Ralphie promised.
The old man led us through the kitchen, where the cooks shouted and worked, the wood-fired oven crackled, and the heat made sweat dot on my forehead.
Alba’s dress swirled around her ankles, her heeled boots clicking on the tile flooring.
We followed the old man around a corner to a solid black door.
He paused with his hand on the knob and turned to face us.
“There’s a secret to perfect pizza,” he said, and I settled in for a familiar speech.
“Tomatoes straight from Italy, picked at their ripest and canned immediately to concentrate the flavor. Italian type 00 flour, milled to perfection. New York City tap water. And the freshest ingredients for toppings, year-round.”
He opened the door, and Alba’s shock cleared the lingering smile from her face.
Beyond the doorway, instead of a dirty alleyway full of snow, gravel, and rats, was lush greenery and warmth.
Ralphie waved her through the door, and I followed close, watching the way her eyes widened as she looked around the space.
“This greenhouse has been here longer than I’ve been alive,” I told her, and Alba met my gaze. “It’s one of the reasons the food here is so good.”
“Please,” Ralphie said, gesturing us forward. A small table had been set up a few paces ahead, in the middle of the greenery, with a line of basil plants on one side and a rosemary bush on the other.
“It smells amazing,” Alba said, wandering over to brush her fingers over the rosemary. “This is incredible.”
“Vaughn told me you had a green thumb,” Ralphie said, pulling out her chair.
Alba laughed. “Not quite. Thank you,” she said as she sat down, leaning back as he laid a white cloth napkin across her lap. I hadn’t even known Ralphie had cloth napkins in this place.
“This is great, Ralphie,” I said, genuinely impressed. The table was dressed in a white tablecloth, with a tea light flickering in a glass jar between us. To my left, a wine bucket sat in a stand, ready to receive whichever bottle we chose.
“When an old friend calls and asks me to make space at a table for him, I do my best,” Ralphie said, his hand landing on my shoulder.
He handed us both menus, took our drink order, and wandered back into the restaurant.
Despite myself, my throat felt tight. Ralphie had been the first man in my life who was in any way reliable.
He’d been a hard man to work for, but he’d always been there for me.
And he still was, I realized. When so many other people let me down, the old man was there.
Alba took off her jacket; the greenhouse was comfortably warm. Her skin gleamed under the fairy lights that had been strung up around our table, her earrings glinting as she took another look around. “This is incredible.” She looked at me. “Thank you.”
“Just as a fair warning, Ralphie will probably want to give you a tour of all his plants after we’ve eaten. I made the mistake of telling him you had a vegetable garden when you were younger. He’ll want to tell you optimal growing conditions for each plant.”
Happiness shone on her face. “I would love that. Maybe one day I can put the knowledge to use.” She smiled, and it was tinged with sadness, but she shook her head and cleared it quickly. “You organized all of this today?”
“I can’t take too much credit. I called Ralphie, and he did the rest.”
“Still,” she said. “Thank you.”