Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Walker
“All right, Eli,” I say as we ride up the elevator together, her lying in her stroller, “this is going to be a new adventure for us. I don’t know how long we will be out, but it’s really important.
I need you to be a good girl so we can spoil Jessie.
She saved our butts this week and deserves it. Can you do that for her?”
She smiles up at her kitty hanging from her car seat.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I reply as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open.
We just had our first morning alone together without Jessie’s help. She started bawling her eyes out during my shower. I had to run out wet and naked to soothe her in her bassinet, shampoo in my hair and dripping down my body.
It was … quite the experience.
I had a minor panic attack, where I thought there was no way in hell I’d be able to live my life again until Eli was in kindergarten. There was a good hour of catastrophic thinking that led to difficult breathing before I splashed cold water on my face and snapped out of it.
I am now fully showered, suds and all washed out of my hair. Both Eli and I are fed and just went to the bathroom—hers was in her diaper, but I’ll still call it a win. Maybe one less poop explosion to clean out in public.
I’ve never been to Jessie’s apartment before, but I’ve had her address for years. I’ve known her address in the city. I might have had to keep my distance, but I’ve always been close enough to know she’s safe. I never liked her living by herself in this city.
But I gave up the right to have a say-so in the matter.
I raise my hand and knock it against her door. After about a minute, I glance down at my watch. It’s eight thirty in the morning. Could she be out somewhere already?
I knock again and wait. The door swings open, and I’m met with a pair of tired green eyes looking back at me. She’s in nothing but a T-shirt that’s hiked up way too high, giving me a glimpse of her silky thighs.
I stand there, in awe of just how damn beautiful she is, hating my dumb luck that the only woman in the world I would die to have happens to be the one whose world I could crumble in less than a minute.
“What are you doing here?” she grumbles groggily.
My eyes drag up and down her body. “What are you doing, answering your door, dressed in next to nothing?”
She rubs one of her eyes as she yawns. “I didn’t really think about it. I’m tired.”
I push through the door and close it behind me, Eli still cooing up at her cat.
“That’s your excuse? You’re tired? What if I was a delivery guy? I could’ve taken one look at you and forced my way into your apartment.”
She smiles softly. “You did do that.”
“That’s my point, Jessie. It’s not safe. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Good morning to you too,” she says with her all-too-familiar attitude, then bends down and smiles at Eli. “And good morning to you, sweetie pie.”
“Dammit, Jessie,” I growl because her ass cheeks are hanging out. I close my eyes and hang my head back. “Please go put some clothes on.”
“How about you tell me why you’re here first?” she replies defiantly.
I open my eyes, hoping she’s standing straight up again—and thankfully, she is. “We’re going shopping. Remember? It was part of the deal.”
“Walker, you don’t have to do that. I’m not going to make you spend your money on me.”
I place my hands on her shoulders and turn her around. “Get your butt in your room and get changed. We are going shopping. I will not take no for an answer.”
I push her into her room.
She turns around, scoffing at me. “You’re so bossy.”
My brows furrow. “Don’t make me show you what bossy looks like.”
I turn around before I fuck her against the wall and give her bossy.
I scan her apartment, noticing just how cramped it is. The kitchen barely fits two people, no table in sight. She probably eats standing at the counter or perched on that small sofa in the living room.
But this is the life she’s chosen—simplicity over ambition, passion over paychecks.
And damn if I don’t respect her for it. I’ve been clawing my way toward power for years, chasing my father’s approval like it was the only prize worth winning.
The cruel truth? No matter what I accomplish, it’s never enough for him. Maybe it never will be.
Jessie walks out, dressed casually in light jeans that are ripped at the knees, white sneakers, and a white T-shirt with gold jewelry.
“Okay, I’m ready. Where are we going?”
“I figured we’d start off on Fifth Avenue, then maybe make our way over to SoHo,” I tell her as I push the stroller to the front door.
When we get into the elevator, I watch her as she shifts her weight from one side to the other nervously.
“Are you nervous?” I ask curiously.
She looks up at me with big doe eyes. “This feels weird. I don’t want to take your money. And … I don’t shop at these places. I’ve never had the money.”
I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze, finding it impossible to let go. Without thinking, I thread my fingers through hers. The simple connection feels more natural than breathing.
“I want to spoil you today. And I’ll make sure everybody treats you like the most important person in the room.”
The air in the elevator turns thick as I rub circles on her hand with my thumb. She doesn’t answer. Her eyes hold mine, and she stares at me like she’s trying to figure me out. I’m sure none of this makes sense to her.
Then the doors open, and the moment is broken. She pulls her hand away and adjusts her shirt.
We hit up a café first to grab a coffee and pastry for breakfast. Eli fell asleep on the stroller ride there and has been knocked out ever since. We drink our coffee as we walk to Fifth Avenue.
I have a couple of appointments set up with the stores on Fifth to get us started.
I want someone to be available to Jessie’s beck and call.
She can try to deny it all she wants today, but I know she really wants to take me up on this.
The size of her apartment just shows how little her company is paying her. She deserves this shopping spree.
She deserves everything.
She might not know it, but I follow her career. I know just how many families she’s helped or children she’s saved from an abusive or neglectful parent. She really is living out her dream that she’s had since high school.
We step into a cathedral of fashion, two soaring floors, draped in endless rows of clothing that seem to stretch on forever. A woman in a blue pantsuit meets us at the door.
“Hello.” She smiles with her red lips. “Welcome. How may I assist you?”
I can feel the nerves radiating off Jessie, so I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against my side. “Hi. My name is Walker Harlow. I have an appointment.”
Jessie cranes her neck, then looks at me with confusion written all over her face.
I wink at her, which just seems to fluster her more.
A deep chuckle escapes from my throat. I like disarming her usual tough facade.
This is the Jessie I remember. I’ve missed her. We used to have so much fun together.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Harlow. We have you all set up in our private changing room. My name is Roxanne. I’ll be working with you today.”
I nod at her. “This is Jessie. You have my permission to spoil her rotten. No limit today.”
Her subtle excitement doesn’t slip past me. I know they work on commission.
“Of course. We will make sure she is well taken care of. Please, follow me.”
We are escorted into a private area in the back of the first floor with a long cream couch, a floor-length mirror framed in gold, and a black curtain off to the corner.
The coffee table in front of me has a bottle of chilled champagne and a charcuterie board. I roll the stroller in front of the couch off to the corner to keep it out of the way, then take a seat.
“You just sit and relax. Jessie and I are going to go have some fun.” Roxanne smiles brightly, then grabs Jessie’s hand.
Jessie looks at me like a deer in headlights. I pull out my phone and begin to sort through work emails. This is not like most Saturdays. I usually get in a solid eight-hour workday. Sunday is much of the same—maybe a five-hour day if I’m feeling run-down.
An email sent early this morning catches my eye. It’s from Stewart, one of our majority-owned partners. He’s requesting a meeting with me on Monday morning.
I know it’s about the high-profile case. He doesn’t do one-on-one meetings unless he’s discussing major business. We have nothing else on our docket worthy of a meeting with him.
I’d usually go into the meeting with confidence, knowing I was the best choice and showing it with how I carried myself.
I’m not so sure now. I wonder how much they noticed of my absence this week.
Hopefully not the full extent that I was actually gone.
I could’ve been in court, and they don’t generally micromanage, but it’s still leaving me feeling rattled.
I wanted to get more face time in with Stewart and Henry. Who knows what Pierce has accomplished with my time away? Probably shit-talking me left and right.
I toss my phone to the side in frustration. Last week, I was at the height of my career with nothing but possibilities. Today, I’m grappling with the weight of choices I never saw coming, wondering if I’ve already lost everything I’ve worked for.
The bottle of champagne rests on the blistering cold ice. I scoot to the edge of the couch and grab it out of the bucket, then pop it open. The pop of the cork is sharp, but not sharp enough to silence the reminder that my life is slipping out of my hands.
Just as I’m pouring the second flute for Jessie, she walks back into the room with Roxanne following behind her, rolling a rack filled with clothes.
My eyebrows rise as I take in all of the items. “Wow. You gathered all of that quickly.”
Roxanne smiles enthusiastically. “It’s my job. Plus, this one has a figure to die for. I may have gotten carried away with my excitement to dress her.”