Chapter 47
Erica
I clutch Josie to me as I open the heavy glass doors to the restaurant, quickly scanning the room for my brother.
I’m thirty minutes late, and from the sound of his voice on the phone he is not happy about it.
I had completely forgotten we had made plans for dinner tonight, between everything going on with Marco and the issue of Josie’s custody.
I spot him in a corner booth, drumming his fingers on the table top when he spots me. He barely smiles as he cocks his head irritably. I walk quickly toward him, bypassing the hostess stand.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, settling into the booth with Josie.
He looks from me to his niece, and around the restaurant that surrounds us.
The booths are a deep navy blue with gold trim and they surround marble tabletops with intricate candlesticks in the center.
The walls around us are wrapped in a detailed wallpaper that up close looks entirely different from the mural seen from afar.
It catches the light from the enormous crystal chandeliers scattered across the crown molding ceilings.
It’s not lost on me that it’s a high-end Michelin star hot spot, and I look completely out of place in jeans, a tank top, and a baby in pajamas.
“I didn’t realize Josie would be joining us for our five-course meal tonight. Is she into steak these days?” asks Troy sarcastically.
“Ha ha. Look, I completely forgot about tonight. How long have you been here?”
“Oh, thirty minutes now,” says Troy, looking at his watch.
“Enough time for an old-fashioned,” I say, offering a guilty smile.
He rolls his eyes and gives Josie a gentle stroke of his finger against her cheek.
“Mommy is a scatterbrain, isn’t she?” he says in a baby voice.
“Oh shhh.” I shove him playfully. “What number did you call me on?”
“I got a new phone.” He shrugs, picking up the latest model. “Why did you sound so freaked out when you picked up?”
“I-I thought you were someone else.”
Turns out he wasn’t Marco’s attorney letting me know we were going to court, much to my relief. Though, I know I should be prepared for it.
Troy looks at me curiously, like he’s trying to figure me out. I hate when he does that. I beg for the waitress to come by and interrupt to take my drink order. A glass of cabernet sounds like just what I need right now.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” says Troy warily. “But I’m worried.”
“I’m fine,” I say, still looking for the waitress.
“You can lie to me all you want, but think about Josie.”
“I always think about Josie,” I say sternly, shooting him a look.
“You just seem stressed all the time. I want my niece’s mom to be happy and stress-free,” he says, looking to Josie who is reaching out for him.
I reluctantly hand her over to him, even though I’m annoyed by the conversation.
I know my brother means well, but I also know where this conversation is leading.
Where it always does, when he offers to help me, and by help me, give me money.
I’ve never accepted it, and there have been plenty of times we’ve had this same conversation.
He calls me stubborn. I call it prideful.
I’ve made it this far on my own without the help of my family name or their fortune.
I finally see the waitress approaching with a hesitant look on her face when she sees Josie sitting on Troy’s lap.
“Hello. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we really don’t allow children here,” she says softly.
“I’m sorry about that,” says Troy, laying on the charm. “My sister here is a single mom, and couldn’t find a sitter. I haven’t seen her in so long. Please, don’t take this night from us. We’ve so been looking forward to eating at this establishment.”
The waitress looks around warily, as if she’s thinking about it.
“Please, she won’t make a peep.” Troy reaches in his jacket and pulls out his wallet, sliding a hundred-dollar bill toward her. “For your trouble.”
He lays on that smile of his, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes because the waitress falls for it.
She nods, taking the bill and placing it in her apron before turning to leave.
She didn’t even take my drink order. She was too blinded by my brother’s annoying charm.
I open my mouth to say something, but she’s already moved onto the next table.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“No problem.” He waves me off. “Now, back to what I was saying. I don’t like to see you like this, Erica. It was one thing when it was just you, but now you have a daughter. I can’t just let you get by like this without my help…”
“Like what?” I ask pointedly.
“Stressed. Absentminded. Working for the same newspaper who has never done right by you.”
“That’s not true. I have the job I’ve always wanted.”
“And it came with a pay decrease…” he reminds me.
“I just have to be patient.”
“You’ve been patient. You’ve been there for years and they never saw your value. Always working you into the ground, and now with the new owner, it seems even worse. Is it worth it?” he asks.
I think about what he’s asking, and wonder if it is worth it anymore.
I wonder if all the stress I’m going through at work is worth my mental wellbeing and how it affects Josie.
The paper is all I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine starting over somewhere else.
Plus, I’ve tried. No one has even given me a chance at an interview.
“I know you don’t get it…”
“Don’t I?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I worked under our father for years, too afraid to do anything on my own. The thought of trying and failing was terrifying, especially when our lovely father was there to likely rub it in my face.”
“Troy…” I start, remembering what a rough last year he had.
“So don’t tell me I don’t get it.” He takes a slow sip of his drink. “At least I did something about it.”
“Not everyone is you , Troy. Or has the financial means to start over.”
“I’ve offered to help you with money, so you can get a bigger apartment closer to work. Closer to me. I can buy you your own damn newspaper for God’s sake.”
“But I don’t want that.” I shake my head once.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” he asks.
“Because this is my life. I should be the one to figure it out.”
“You have to learn when to accept help. For Josie’s sake at least.”
“I said no,” I say slowly.
Troy sighs and leans back in the booth, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. Josie reaches up and squeezes his cheeks, lightening the mood. It works because Troy looks down at her and smiles.
“Your mommy is not only scatter-brained, but stubborn.” He leans his face down into her palms, which makes her giggle.
“Will you stop bad-mouthing me to my daughter?” I say, biting back a smile.
“Are you sure she’s yours?” he asks, looking from Josie to me.
“Troy!”
“It’s just she looks nothing like you.”
I roll my eyes. It’s true. How can mothers put in the work of carrying their babies for nine months and they come out looking like their fathers? It’s not fair.
“She has my…face shape,” I say, grasping at straws.
He peers at me and Josie, like he’s trying really hard to see it.
“Did you invite me here just to be an ass?” I say, crossing my arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“I wish Monica was here to keep you in line.” I roll my eyes. I miss her. I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages.
“Me too. But she’s at home with TJ. She sends her love.”
The waitress finally comes back and takes my drink order, along with our food order.
We each order the same five-course meal.
Tuna tartare, braised pork belly, chopped salad, Alaskan king crab and ribeye steak, and crème br?lée.
It’s enough to feed me for a week, and enough to keep us here for hours.
I hope Josie can hold out that long, and I hope I can ward off any more of my brother’s offers to help.
“Really though. About Josie. You really have no idea who the father is?” asks Troy, keeping his voice down. I wonder if it’s for Josie’s sake, as if she could understand.
I pause for a moment, thinking about how much easier it would be if I just told him.
He could give me advice on what to do, but he would also offer me help.
I know he could hire me just as good a lawyer as Marco to fight the custody battle in court, if it comes to that.
The idea is tempting. But since I don’t know what’s going on yet, I think better of it.
Seeing Troy with Josie, and seeing how he is with his own son, it makes me wonder if maybe Marco should gain partial custody.
Would it be so bad for Josie to have a father?
What if by keeping her from him, I’m doing her a disservice?
I would hate for her to resent me later in life if she finds out the truth.
Marco has been proving himself to be up to the task of taking on fatherhood. Though it only has been a few days. While it hardly proves he’s ready to commit to a lifetime of being Josie’s father, deep down, I think he could do it. I know he would. That’s why I’ve been so torn about the situation.
And I can’t stop thinking about him, aside from him being Josie’s father.
I miss him more than I would ever to admit to anyone, let alone myself in my strongest moments.
But when I’m in bed at night, I think about him.
I wonder what he’s doing. What he’s thinking.
How things could be so different for us if I hadn’t gone and muddied everything up.
I finally look up at Troy and shake my head, hoping I’m convincing enough that he will drop it until he asks me again in a few months’ time.
It’s a routine I’ve grown used to. Like he thinks a couple months’ time will somehow jar my memory and I’ll be able to tell him the mystery he’s tried to figure out ever since I told him I was pregnant.
He looks disappointed, like he knows I’m lying, but thankfully the waitress comes by with our first course and breaks up the moment.
The food is incredible. Course after course makes my mouth water.
Josie tries little bites of the first three courses before passing out in the booth between Troy and me.
I stroke her hair fondly before we start on our main course, and Troy watches the gesture caringly.
“Look,” he starts, his voice soft and his eyes serious. “You don’t have to tell me who the father is…”
“I told you I don’t—”
“Let me finish.” He holds up a hand. “But if you do know, tell him. Let him be a part of your daughter’s life. Men aren’t as bad as you usually think…”
I think about what he says, and swallow hard. If only he knew how close he was to the truth of what was going on in my life. Maybe Troy is right.
“I mean, look at how I turned out.” He grins.
I roll my eyes, but my brother is a real example of playboy turned caring husband and father. But he’s an exception. We can’t all have those happy endings. Can we?