Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
CONSTANCE
The invitation might as well’ve been a ticking time bomb. But it wasn’t even an invitation, nor was I asked if I wanted to attend. It was an order. A demand from Morgan Creed, one he wouldn’t allow me to refuse. He didn’t even bother to make sure I had anything to wear to the event.
I stare at the cream envelope sitting on my desk that Mr. Creed so casually dropped off before heading out of the office for a meeting.
Black-tie charity event. Eight o’clock. The words taunt me.
Inside is an itinerary for the evening along with key people that I will be meeting.
Flipping it open, I scan through the few pages inside, not even retaining what I’m reading.
My stomach is so tied up in knots I feel as if I’m going to be sick. An evening event, out of the office with the man I wanted to be invisible to. He made sure to obtain my address and phone number before leaving, letting me know he’d be at my house at seven-thirty sharp to pick me up.
God, I’ve never wanted to have the flu so bad in my life.
I run through all my potential options for canceling on him before I remind myself I’m being ridiculous.
I’m twenty-eight for God's sake, not fourteen. I have a job, a son, and a life I built brick by metaphorical brick. I’m just an assistant to the CEO and doing my job like any assistant would.
Still, the knot in my stomach coils tighter the longer I sit there.
I don’t know why I’m worrying because if I can’t find a sitter, then I’m not going to be able to go anyway.
And it’s that silent fear of not seeing my boss that makes me hope I can find one.
The only reason I’m going home is to find something to wear.
“You notice things,” he’d said casually, as if it were nothing. Is that the main reason he wants me to go? Is there something he thinks I’ll notice over him, or maybe overhear from other assistants who may be there with their employers?
It plays in my mind, nagging at me like an annoying gnat during my drive to pick up Chance, then home. Even my son’s overly excited re-telling of the adventures he had during recess can’t make it disappear.
My house feels smaller than usual; the walls closing in as soon as I shut the door behind me. Chance drops his backpack by the couch before running down the hallway to his room.
I need to make him some dinner, but time is ticking away and I still need to find a dress, and then a sitter for Chance.
I head to my bedroom and open the closet.
Rows of practical clothes stare back at me—sweaters, jeans, and slacks all hanging neat and organized.
I’m starting to feel sick, knowing I’ll have to contact Morgan to cancel, but I don’t have his personal cell number, which means I’ll have to do it face to face.
I keep moving the hangers across the bar. Then I see it.
The emerald green gown hanging at the very end in a clear garment bag in the far corner, half-hidden behind my winter coats.
It’s a bridesmaid dress I’d worn at an ex-friend's wedding years ago. Before I was pregnant with Chance. The only reason I still have it is because I couldn’t fathom throwing it away after paying so much for it.
I take it out of the closet and walk over to my bed, laying it down on top.
Slowly I unzip the bag, touching the soft fabric with my fingers.
It’s a floor-length dress, and I cross my fingers, hoping it still fits, because if it doesn’t I’m gonna have to wear my funeral dress and I really don’t want to do that.
“Please, please, please,” I murmur. “Because you're my only option.”
Now, I need a sitter. Taking a deep breath, I leave my room and head to Chance’s. When I open the door, I see he’s sitting on the floor playing with his race cars.
“Hey, buddy, I need to run next door and ask Mr. Bartholomew a question. Then I’ll be right back to make some dinner. Stay in your room.”
He doesn’t even look up at me, just continues playing as he says, “Okay.”
I leave my house, cutting across the lawn to my neighbor, Mr. Bartholomew.
He’s lived in the neighborhood for decades and was the first to welcome me when I moved in.
He’s quiet, kind, and always looking out for us.
He’s been like a father to me and a grandfather to Chance.
But this will be the first time I’ve ever asked him for something like this.
A ride. Yes. Milk. Definitely. But babysitting? Never.
I lift my hand, my knuckles hovering over the door as I shift my weight on my feet. I swallow hard, my eyes drifting back over to my house as I contemplate heading back across the yard. But then I’d have to face Morgan and risk losing my job. That would be devastating for Chance’s medical care.
So I do the only thing I can. I knock. Just twice in a row, and then I wait, giving the elderly man a chance to come to the door. After a few minutes, I lift my hand to knock again just as the door creaks open, revealing the older gentleman in his sweater vest and slippers.
“Well, hello, Miss Constance. Is everything alright?”
I force a smile as I bite on my lip, trying to maintain eye contact with him. “I was hoping you might… watch Chance for a few hours tonight. I know it’s a big ask and I understand if you say no.”
His brows lift, the corners of his mouth turning upward. “Do you have a date?”
I almost laugh. This thing with Morgan tonight is most definitely not that. “No, sir. Just a work event I wasn’t informed about until today.”
He just stands there, eyes locked on me, and I’m sure he’s about to say no. “Doesn’t mean that it can’t be a date. But, I can do that. On one condition.”
I brace myself for what it is he could want. “Name it.”
“Strawberry-cherry pie,” he says solemnly. “And a glass of that sweet tea you make.”
Relief rushes through me so fast I swear I feel myself getting dizzy. “Deal.”
“I’m being picked up at seven-thirty so I can bring him over around seven. Is that okay?”
“Or you can bring him over now. I just put a pizza in the oven, and I know how much he likes it. As for the pie and tea, you can bring those to me tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t want to bother you more than I need to.”
“It’s no bother. Now, go get my boy,” he tells me sweetly.
I want to throw my arms around him and squeeze him tightly. But I don’t. Instead, I hold back the tears that want to fall and rush across the yard to get Chance, thankful for the small amount of extra time this will give me to get ready. “Mr. Bartholomew is going to hang out with you.”
“Really?” His face lights up with excitement. “Can I take my race cars?”
“Yes. He wants you to come over now; he’s making pizza.
So, grab a few toys and I’ll get your jammies and take you over.
” He gets busy deciding what he wants to take, and I head over to his dresser, getting him some clothes to change into.
Once he’s picked out some toys, I take him over to Mr. Bartholomew’s, who greets us at the door with the same amount of excitement as Chance.
“Give me a kiss, Baby.” l lean over as Chance comes up on his toes, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Thank you again, Mr. Bartholomew.”
“It’s no problem, Miss Constance. Just promise me you’ll have a good night. And if you’re out past ten, then just let him sleep over.” He winks and I can’t help but smile.
“I can’t do that,” I tell him.
“You can, and you will. I’m an old man and he’s a young boy.
We need our rest.” I just stare at him, mouth parted, eyes tearing.
“Chance will be fine. Besides, you deserve a night to yourself. Go on this non-date work event, have fun, and then go to bed and sleep in. I don’t want you knocking on my door before ten tomorrow morning. ”
“Are you sure?” I ask softly.
He smiles sweetly. “Positive.”
I lean forward and give Mr. Bartholomew a kiss on his forehead like I had Chance, before turning and heading back across the lawn to my house. I need to shower and get dressed, and time is ticking away. I just hope the dress fits.
An hour later, I’m standing in my room, staring at myself in the mirror.
The emerald gown fits like a glove, hugging me in all the right places.
It looks even better on me now than when I originally wore it years ago.
I have my dark chocolate hair pinned up high on my head, leaving two curled strands hanging to frame my face.
I decided to wear a little more makeup than I normally do, since this is such a formal event.
I barely recognize myself.
For the first time in years, I look like someone people would notice. Someone they would take a second glance at.
My phone buzzes where I have it sitting on my dresser, and I pick it up to see it’s a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: I’ll be arriving in 5 minutes.
I quickly program his name into the contact information.
I can only imagine what the wealthy Mr. Creed thinks about my humble neighborhood.
It’s not the worst in town, but it also isn’t the best. Most of the homes need a great deal of work done to them, including mine.
My mind drifts to the roof that’s in desperate need of repair.
But I still try to make it a home for Chance. One that he wouldn’t be ashamed of.
I take a breath, steadying myself as I pick up my clutch, making sure my driver's license and bank card are inside before adding my phone to it. Slipping the tiny strap over my shoulder, I head for the front door.
Whether I’m ready or not, Morgan is about to be here.