36. Brook
While Baldo reluctantly promised his patience, Uncle Rupert proved to be a very persistent bastard.
We put him off for a whole two weeks. Two weeks while we resumed some sort of existence in New York.
Me editing and arguing with the TV network.
Baldo mostly spending time on the phone, monitoring his business. Or in his club. He didn’t go to see Mom.
He came with me to visit Paris and her baby and, surrounded by all that love, I wanted to cuddle into his side.
Only, that’s not us. Not yet.
It’s like we were pretending to be a real couple, and now that we are one, we’re faking the make-believe.
What’s stopping us from taking the leap? For all his controlling tendencies, Baldo seems to have relinquished control in this case.
He’s left me to lead on when and how we tell the family.
While a part of me understands why he did that, I still find it an unfair burden. If we’re a genuine couple, shouldn’t we tackle this hurdle together?
I know I asked him for patience, but he abandoned the topic all together.
And my fear of losing either him or my family is too real, so I don’t act at all. Avoiding reality has always been my superpower.
“I’m nervous.” I wiggle my shoulders as if I could shake off the feeling.
Baldo helps me out of the car in front of Rupert Montgomery’s house. “It’s going to be fine.”
He snakes his fingers through mine, and we walk together to the large entrance.
We ring the bell.
“Have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?” Baldo wraps his arm around my waist, pulls me to him and kisses my neck.
“You’re trying to distract me.” I lean into his embrace.
“Is it working?” He grazes his teeth around the hem of my cleavage, and I sigh.
“Erm—” Rupert’s butler clears his throat, and we jump apart.
Baldo snickers and leads me inside. We’re ushered to a small, eclectic dining room. It’s an airy room with light furnishings, and at such odds with the rest of the stuffy house.
Though the entry hall has changed somewhat as well. Modern art has replaced the heavy paintings.
Rupert has different tastes than his sister, and he didn’t wait long to apply them here.
The man who greets us looks very different from the man I met two months ago. He is wearing a light blue shirt and brown slacks.
His skin is smoother, more radiant. There is an air of lightness around him. I guess this is the less grieving version of him.
Even his creepy smirk is gone, though as I look at him closely, his facial muscles don’t move. Did he get Botox?
The evening flows with idle chitchat, mostly between Rupert and Baldo, focusing on business. And I’m happy I can just chew and count down the minutes till this ends.
Because Rupert might be more relaxed and warm than the last time, but he’s still scrutinizing our every move.
Baldo doesn’t miss any opportunity to touch me, to praise me with respect and reverence, to kiss my knuckles. It’s so effortless for him that I relax.
Why I’m even stressed is beyond me. In front of Rupert, we can be a proper couple. Not like with my family.
“I must say you two seem genuine,” Rupert announces after the staff serves us dessert. “But I still have my hesitations. You’re siblings, after all.”
“Not blood related,” I snap.
“Of course, of course, but still—”
“Frankly,” Baldo interrupts, “I find it quite interesting that you’re so eager to comply with your sister’s wishes. It’s not like she extended you much respect while she was alive.”
I whip my head toward him. What is he talking about?
“Excuse me?” Rupert puts down his dessert fork. “Whatever are you implying?”
“You can’t tell me you’d be okay if the inheritance fell to the hands of those despicable organizations, particularly to numbers sixteen to twenty-one on the list.”
Rupert’s face pales. And while I have no idea what they are talking about, I can see Baldo’s words hit the intended target.
“Would you, Uncle Rupert?” Baldo urges.
Rupert clears his throat. “No.”
“I see. So, in that case I’d suggest you stop questioning the integrity of the future mother of my children. Brook and I are married. End of story.”
Future mother of my children.
I don’t hear what is said afterward, because those words beat in my temples so loud I might faint.
Future mother of my children.
“So, this is what’s going to happen, and believe me, there is more I can do to tarnish your name. Brook, if she chooses, will come up with an alternate list of organizations that can benefit from the inheritance, and deserve it. You will transfer the funds to them and stop pestering us.”
Rupert drops his napkin on the table. “I think this dinner is over.”
“Do we have an understanding?”
Baldo stands up and helps me to my feet.
Rupert adjusts his pocket square. “That would be against the terms of her will.”
“Get creative then.” Baldo smirks.
We leave the house.
“What is sixteen to twenty-one on the list?”
Baldo opens the car door for me, and I get in.
“Homophobic groups.” He slides onto the seat beside me.
“Is Uncle Rupert gay? How did you know?”
“I have my sources, baby.” He pulls me into his lap and unbuttons my top, skimming his hand over the fabric of my bra.
I shiver and wrap my arms around his shoulders as he dips his head and kisses my neck. As usual, he finds the most sensitive spot that gets me all squirming and yearning for him.
Future mother of my children.
All the words he said tonight. I want to run to Mom and Dad and tell them everything, but as much as Baldo seems to be all-in with me, I’m still hesitant.
He trails his hand under the hem of my skirt and finds my underwear, and I push away all those thoughts for later.
* * *
Paris
Little Micah smiled for the first time.
Syd
Sorry to tell you, but he is two weeks. It’s farting.
Lo
(laughing emoji)
Paris
Come on, I need it to be a smile because I’m going crazy here.
I’ll come over to keep you company.
Paris
I love you.
“Wow, you look—” Baldo starts when Paris opens the door, but I elbow him and he lies, “radiant, sis.”
Her hair is messy, her T-shirt is stained, and her breast is leaking.
She puts a finger to her lips. “Shh, he’s just fallen asleep.”
She tiptoes inside. Baldo looks at me, shrugging, and we follow.
Micah is sleeping in a bassinet by the sofa. Paris stares at him with adoration and then pleads with us.
“Finn went to get wipes. I forgot to put them in the delivery order. Could you watch him? I really need to shower. And get changed. He’ll be down for at least half an hour. I’ll be done in five.”
She trips over her sentences like there’s a prize for hushed speed talking.
My eyes dart between the sleeping baby, Baldo, and Paris, a bit of panic rising in me. I want to help, but like by cleaning her kitchen, cooking her a meal. I don’t know what to do with a baby.
“Sure. You stink,” Baldo teases.
Paris’s lower lip trembles.
“Jesus, I was teasing you. Go take a shower. We’ll watch the baby.” He lunges into the seat beside the cot.
“Thank you.” Paris dashes upstairs.
Okay, I guess we’re going to babysit. Well, it’s not like she’s far away.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I whisper, walking to the kitchen corner of Paris’s open concept day room that is the first floor of her townhouse.
As an interior designer, she remodeled the typical layout and opened up the space.
“Whiskey.”
I whip around, wide-eyed. “We’re babysitting.”
He shrugs. “Exactly.”
I roll my eyes, giggling. He seems to be completely unfazed by the fact we’ve been left alone with a newborn.
Getting two glasses of water, I walk back, but stop in my tracks.
Baldo picked up the baby, and he’s sitting now, holding the tiny human in his large muscular arms.
His broad frame is a stark contrast to the delicate life cradled in his arms.
He holds Micah with such tenderness, protecting him in a safe embrace. His usually intense eyes are soft now.
He is whispering something to Micah while running his index finger up and down his teensy spine.
Tears prickle behind my eyes as a warm feeling spreads through my chest. God, he’s hot. And so completely in the moment of pure love.
The sight of this man—so imposing, yet so caring—fills me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
“Wow, look at that, you’re a baby whisperer,” Paris says behind me.
Baldo looks up and our eyes lock. His full of adoration, and I’m hoping he can find the awe in my gaze.
Because right in this moment, I know with irrevocable certainty that I love this man.
“Where is my whiskey?” he rasps.
I snort.
“You’re holding him as long as he sleeps,” Paris decides. “And if it’s more than forty minutes, you’re staying here.”
“Not a chance.” He chuckles.
“I’ll pay you,” she pleads, and I don’t think she’s kidding.
Finn returns and we drink coffee. It might be Paris’s hundredth cup today. Not that she’s finished any of them, guessing by the haphazardly scattered cups with cold, dark liquid all around the room.
Baldo joins us, holding the baby effortlessly like he’s done it a million times. And I grin dreamily.
Future mother of my children.
After seeing him today, I’m sold on the concept.
“Since you’re here, can you help me put together the stroller?” Finn asks.
“Why don’t you get someone to do this shit for you?” Baldo hands the baby to Paris.
Finn shrugs. “My parents were distant and MIA, mostly. I want to be as involved as possible.”
“Sure, but it’s not like Micah knows at this stage. Get help, and get some sleep,” Baldo says.
“Sleep is overrated.” Finn chuckles and they retreat upstairs, where I assume the stroller is.
“Do you want to hold him?” Paris doesn’t wait for an answer and pushes the baby into my arms.
He smells like innocence. So fragile, but surprisingly solid. The rhythm of his breathing and his warm weight fill me with peace.
“So, Lo told me the two of you are banging?” Paris says as we take seats in the living room.
Micah stirs in my arms but settles immediately. “Jesus, don’t be crass in front of your son.”
“Oh, come on, my days are spent with a newborn, diapers, breasts out of my bra… give me something juicy.”
“We’re together.” I don’t look at her, focusing on the tiny heartbeat against my chest. Hopefully, my thundering pulse won’t wake him up.
“Well, that’s unexpected and weird.”
“For fuck’s sake, Paris, we’re not blood related.”
“I know, but we grew up together. It would take a bit of getting used to that my sister and my brother… Is it serious?”
I sigh. “I think it would be, but we haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, so we’re kind of hanging in limbo.”
“What are you talking about? The depth of your commitment has nothing to do with the outside world.”
“Yeah, but it’s a hurdle.”
“If you make it one. Look, Finn and I faced all sorts of bullshit from his family, but we learned the hard way we can’t let that define our relationship.”
“Yes, but I’m glad I’m back with all of you. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Who says it’s one or the other? I mean, we’ll forever tease you about it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not happy for you.”
“I don’t think Dad would agree with that.”
“I think you need to give him more credit. Did you know Lo fake dated Dom to appease Dad?”
“Really? Now I can see how he even got the chance to tame her. But that’s exactly the problem. We’re all doing things to make sure Dad continues to have a happy life, for as long as possible.”
“Yes, but that might be our own way to deal with…” She sighs. “Being confronted with his mortality. I think at the end of the day, Dad just really wants to see us happy.”
I bury my face in the bald head of the sleeping baby.
Baldo makes me happy. And as much as I want to believe Paris, I wonder if that’s enough for Dad to accept us.
He refused to do that once before, after all.