Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
I sat in bed in the dark well after Chloe went to sleep with tears streaming down my cheeks, worried that I’d be disrupting Chloe’s life again and moving back in with my parents.
I picked up my copy of Silent Stones from the nightstand, barely able to make out Miles’s headshot on the back.
Why did he have to be like every other man?
I didn’t know why I thought he might be different.
Perhaps his beautiful words had seduced me.
How could he write such emotion, but be so heartless?
What was Sophie thinking, giving Henry to him?
Her other family members must be awful. Obviously, their dad didn’t have a lot of scruples, having an ongoing affair with the nanny.
From the sound of it, Miles’s mom wasn’t the only one over the years.
And it said a lot about Sophie’s mom for putting up with it.
Definitely not someone I would want to raise my child.
I wiped my cheeks and shoved his stupid book in the nightstand drawer.
I was never reading it again. Or the sequel.
It all felt like lies now. It made me feel ill that I related so much to Isabella.
That I thought for one second, or maybe even two, that Miles might be a man for whom I would consider beginning the search for the key to my heart.
Ugh! What was wrong with me? I threw the covers over my head.
I knew better. Hadn’t I learned anything from Leland?
I blamed my friends for all having incredible relationships.
False hope had crept in. Well, I was back on guard. No one was getting through ever again.
For most of the next day, Henry insisted on playing in his nursery.
I had no reason to tell him no, other than it made me uncomfortable being so close to Miles, who was down the hall once again locked up in his office like some brooding master.
I waited on pins and needles all day for him to come in and tell Henry to keep it down or, you know, fire me.
With that thought in mind, I got out my doodle pad with the intent of drawing a picture of Henry for me to keep as a memento.
I intended it to only be of him, but I kept being drawn to the picture of Sophie and Kevin on the small table near Henry’s toddler bed.
I sat on Henry’s bed and picked up the framed picture and ran my fingers across the glass.
Sophie was beautiful, with sandy brown hair and the same enigmatic aqua blue eyes her brother had.
More than that, she radiated goodness. I wished I could talk to her, understand her reasons for choosing Miles.
Tears filled my eyes when I set down the picture and saw the empty cloud-grey upholstered rocker. I could see Sophie rocking her son in it. How I ached for her and Henry. What had she seen in Miles to give him her baby?
I took my pencil out while Henry molded clay and crashed trains, and began to sketch Sophie rocking Henry on the chair. I knew it sounded crazy, but I felt like she wanted me to.
By the time afternoon rolled around and I still had a job, I decided to put away the sketch and do some work for Miles.
I got out his laptop to answer fan mail while Henry stacked his large blocks as tall as he could before knocking them down.
I kept waiting for Miles to come in and complain about the noise, but I never heard him stir.
Did he even eat during the day? I knew his chef had come on Sunday to prepare him meals for the week.
They were all neatly organized in the refrigerator downstairs that—get this—was a computer too.
I could watch Netflix on it if I wanted to. Weird.
There were several emails to respond to when I logged in. His fans, mostly female, were rabid. I supposed I got the appeal. He was talented and gorgeous, but these desperate women had no idea what was behind his pretty exterior. Like this poor woman:
Dear Taron,
I just finished reading Silent Stones. It was bloody brilliant.
I loved your use of allegory. The desolate castle was a beautiful way to symbolize Isabella and her journey.
And those videos you’ve been posting with your nephew have me in heat.
I would love to get together and discuss your works further.
I live in Liverpool but do business in London all the time.
After we’ve finished talking you can prove to me that smart men really do make better lovers and, from the looks of it, fathers.
I’m happy to send a photo of myself. You won’t be disappointed.
Patiently waiting,
Mary
I tried not to wretch. You have me in heat. Who said things like that? I was going to just send her the standard reply, but this woman needed some help and a dose of reality and self-respect.
Dear Mary,
Get yourself a fan or throw some ice down your shirt.
Not only am I a bloody bastard, but I’m a selfish douche bag without the slightest idea of how to raise a child.
You know what they say about selfish men in bed.
It’s all true, sweetheart. Stay away. Go find yourself a nice gentleman.
Better yet, stay away from men all together. You’ll be happier, I promise.
Sincerely,
Taron
P.S. You are spot on about the book.
“Nanny,” Henry interrupted me before I could decide whether I should send the email.
I mean, Miles was probably firing me anyway, right?
And I was truly doing this woman a service.
I set aside the laptop and career suicide to focus on my favorite part of my soon-to-be ex-job.
Oh, how I would miss this little man who was tiredly rubbing his dark eyes he’d inherited from his daddy. I took him into my arms.
“Rock me,” he sleepily pled.
I eyed the rocking chair. It felt like sacred territory.
I wasn’t sure if I should. Then I swore I heard Sophie say, Do it for me.
With a lump in my throat, I carried Henry to the chair and reverently took a seat with him and his teddy, George.
I held him tight for his mother and me while I kissed his sweet head. He snuggled into me. “Read me a story.”
There was a basket near the chair filled with books.
Sitting on top was The Tiger Who Came for Tea.
It looked well-loved with tattered edges.
I picked it up and began to read. Henry giggled softly against my chest, half asleep.
I didn’t even make it halfway through before he was sleeping soundly.
I placed the book back in the basket and closed my own eyes for a minute, soaking in the moment.
For Henry, I didn’t want this job to end.
I was beginning to love this little boy very much.
I would even put up with his broody, boorish uncle if it meant I could take care of him.
I found my own eyelids becoming heavier and heavier the longer I rocked Henry. I hadn’t slept well at all, worried about what today would bring.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes Miles sat on the bed staring intently at the sketch I had started of Sophie and Henry.
Crap. I shut my eyes again. He’d caught me sleeping on the job.
Worse, he sat closely to the open laptop I’d left on Henry’s bed with that unsent email front and center.
I prayed the screen timed out or maybe the computer went into sleep mode.
He wouldn’t check, would he? Maybe if I kept my eyes closed, he would go away.
I peeked my eyes open. He still stared at the sketch. His eyes were a bit misty. His show of emotion had me opening my eyes all the way. As if he knew I was staring at him, his head drifted up. Such a thoughtful gaze emanated from him. Much different from the one last night.
“Bloody hell, you are lovely,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I was apologizing, but it sounded like that was a problem for him.
“Don’t be. I knew full well when I hired you how hard it would be to . . .”
“To what?”
“Never mind,” he sighed. He held up the half-drawn picture on the doodle pad. “This is remarkable. Sophie would have loved it.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I—”
“Not at all. You captured her perfectly. She loved Henry more than the last breath she drew.” His voice faltered.
I pulled Henry tighter against me. Tears stung my eyes.
“Aspen.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on his legs. He looked like a giant sitting on the small toddler bed. “I apologize for being an arse.”
That aptly described him.
He continued, “I wouldn’t blame you, if you told me to piss off.”
My lip twitched, making him half-smile.
“But I hope you don’t. I can’t stand the thought of you thinking ill of me.
There are very few people who I care what they think about me.
You have quickly become one. I’ve written nothing but drivel the last two days as your chastisement has filled my thoughts.
You are right, Sophie expected better of me even though she knew what a selfish bastard I could be. ”
I bit my lip. Had he read the email? That’s basically what I had called him.
He gave no indication that he had and continued. “Aspen.” His eyes locked with mine. Those enigmatic things were back to making my heart sting and zing.
I held my breath waiting for him to speak. I told myself to breathe, I didn’t hold my breath for men anymore. So why weren’t my lungs filling up?
“I want to be a better man. Will you help me?”
My breath came out all at once. This wasn’t what I expected at all. He wasn’t what I expected. I thought I would be polishing my resume by now, instead I found myself nodding. I was doing it for Henry. Yes, yes. It had nothing to do with the dashing Brit who smiled at me.
Satisfied, Miles stood. “Thank you, Aspen.” He held up the picture. “Can I keep this?”
“It’s not finished.”
“When you do finish it, I would be honored to have it.”
“It’s yours,” I promised.
Pleased, he set the doodle pad back down. “Why don’t we all have dinner tonight?”
I thought for a moment. “Okay. It will have to be after soccer practice.”
“You mean football?” he teased.
“You still haven’t fact-checked me.”
“It’s on my list of things to do. I will see you tonight?” There was a fair amount of hope and anticipation in his voice.
“Yes.” Mine sounded timid.
“I look forward to it. By the way,” he pointed at the laptop on the bed. “You were mostly correct, but I am a generous lover.”
Oh holy mother of all that was good. My entire body was on fire. “I . . . uh . . .” What did I say?
“Good day.” He didn’t give me the chance to respond. He strode out chuckling.
I kissed the top of Henry’s head. “Your uncle,” I whispered, “might be my undoing.”