Chapter 30
THIRTY
RACHEL
Rex: She’s her mother’s daughter.
I stroked my thumb across the screen once I’d read his message.
At face value, I thought he was referring to Wynter’s adoptive mother.
Then, it registered he was talking about me and that stirred up a whole host of feelings, most of which were unexpected and were a pleasant escape from the terror gnawing at me.
“Rachel Laker?”
I peered up at the receptionist when she called my name and tucked my phone back into my pocket.
Sweating, nauseated (not from morning sickness,) and jumping like I was a cat on a hot tin roof, I suffered through my appointment. It was hard not to bolt, just to endure, but I had to get used to this.
The alternative wasn’t an option.
I wanted this baby; that meant I had to see this through.
This would be my first doctor’s visit, and I’d been dreading it. Mostly because of the past, partly because I knew what I’d be told.
And I was right.
I was underweight. Overworked. I was borderline anemic and had low blood pressure. All of which were things my doctor expected to be worked on before I visited with her again.
Like I could wave a magic wand and out of nowhere, the desire to slow down as well as to have more iron in my blood could be fixed.
Right.
There was only one positive from the visit—that pain in my side? She suspected it was an ulcer.
Once the appointment was over, thank fuck, and tired of being poked and prodded, it was with no small amount of relief that I left the office.
As I did, and as luck would have it, Rex sent me a text message.
Rex: Can I call?
I didn’t answer, just presented the nurse with the folder my doctor had given me, made another appointment, proceeded to make a note of it in my calendar, and then I left the damn place as my cell buzzed.
Parker: How did it go?
Rachel: Badly.
Parker: She tell you to eat more, take iron supplements, and to try meditation for stress?
Rachel: Why did I bother going through the trauma of visiting her when I could just have seen you?
Parker: I’d say that I could have saved you the copay but it’s not like you pay it anyways.
Rachel: Lol. I’ll pay you the copay next time.
Parker: Next time… lemme see. I’d have to get up close and personal with your vajayjay. I love you, honey, but I think that’s where our relationship ends.
Rachel: And I thought we were the next Thelma and Louise.
Parker: We can be. So long as I don’t have to see your lady garden.
Rachel: LOL. I need to graduate you to non-fade-to-black books. Anyway, gtg.
Parker: You’d better be going for lunch.
Rachel: I am. MOM.
Sucking in a couple deep breaths of chilly air, I didn’t bother texting Rex a reply, just directly called him once I’d stuck my earbuds in.
He answered almost immediately. “Rach?”
His voice, damn, sounded so good in my ears. Even if I’d heard it this morning, it was nice to hear it now after being scolded by the doctor.
I bet that bitch would have been different if Rex were there.
Almost huffing at the thought, I asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I finished up with Wynter and I’m back in my room. I figured you’d want to know how it went.”
Hearing her name made me press my hand to my belly. It was a stupid thing to do, but talking about my firstborn while I was carrying my to-be-born child had a weird way of twisting the past and the present together.
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I told him, “I got your text.”
“Yeah, I saw you’d read it.”
“You meant me, right?”
“Of course I did. I don’t remember dick about Ally anymore.”
Her adoptive mom.
Ally.
What had made him choose Wynter's adoptive parents? Was it like Mav said... Rex knew they were already looking into adoption?
I pursed my lips. “What’s she like?”
“She’s a detail-oriented, pedantic pain in the butt. She won’t let me get away with shit, barely smiles, and is so hungry it hurts but… she’s awesome.”
I half-laughed at his description, but the depth of the eagerness I felt to know more about our child took me aback.
The notion of getting back in my car and talking to him there didn’t fill me with glee, so I headed to a coffee shop down the street.
“If you hear noise, it’s just me going into a café.”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“Is that one of your questions?” I teased.
“No,” he groused, but I heard the smirk.
Sure, it was technically impossible to hear a smirk, but that was how well I knew Rex.
“I’m in New York.”
“Still?”
He wasn’t to know that my OB/GYN was there because I didn’t want the rest of West Orange knowing that I was pregnant.
“Business.”
His hum was dark. “Business.”
I grinned as I peered at the menu once I’d taken a seat in a corner booth. It was after lunch so the rush had died down about forty minutes ago.
With the doctor’s warnings in my ears, I made my selection and pointed to it when the server came and ordered a chai latte too.
When I was done, I said, “It’s for a gala.”
“A gala?”
I scoffed, “Like you don’t know about the FAST galas.”
He snickered. “You’re not supposed to know that I know.”
“Let’s just assume that I believe you know everything there is to know about me, whereas I know piteously little about you.”
“Piteously little, huh?”
I grunted. “Yes. Much too little. Anyway, the gala is approaching. I mostly leave it to a couple of events organizers, but some things need my attention. I’ve brought Lily on board too at Giulia’s suggestion. She’s been a lifesaver.”
“Giulia?”
I snorted. “No. Lily.”
He chuckled. “When is it?”
“In a few weeks’ time.”
“What happens at that one?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him, but I just smiled at the server when she dropped off my drink and told him, “There’s a charity auction. It’s the biggest fundraiser I organize.”
“More than the ticket price?”
“Yeah. We get good donations.”
“Let me guess, that’s where you come in?”
I smirked at my chai. “Knowing the rich and powerful’s dirty secrets comes in handy when you want a favor.”
“A favor… Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Yep.”
“What’s the main lot this year?”
“A purse.”
“A purse? How can that be the main lot?”
I grinned to myself at his bewilderment. “It’s very rare and very unique.”
Not my style, but who was I to argue with what rich people wasted their cash on?
“It’d have to be. What’s its value?”
“About forty grand, but I have a feeling it’ll go for over a hundred.”
“Jesus Christ. Rach, I’m a fucking millionaire, but I wouldn’t waste a hundred grand on a purse.”
“That’s why you’re not invited,” I teased, which had the added benefit of making him laugh.
“Oh, that’s why, huh? Not because it’s black tie and I’d show up in my cut?”
“Well, that might have something to do with it.”
It didn’t. But we were joking around, and I enjoyed it.
Most of our interactions were fractious to say the least.
This was easy.
God, I needed easy right about now after that scolding from the doctor.
“I’ll bet,” he mocked. “What else are you auctioning off?”
“Everything from stays in private chalets in Switzerland to jewelry. We get a variety of lots.”
“Who attends?”
“Do you want the honest answer?”
“Of course.”
“Mostly my clients and their associates.”
He was quiet a second, then he chuckled. “You and your goddamn loopholes.”
From the second contract I’d signed with his company, I quoted, “‘You, Rachel Laker, whose firm is retained by Dark & Dirty Sinners LLC as a sole client, do hereby confirm that you will undertake work only for your chosen charities and no one else.’”
“Queen of Loopholes. So, they, what? Pay you through donations?”
“Yep. For the most part, anyway. I get arrangement fees.”
“Goddammit.” But he was laughing. “I should be pissed.”
“Nah. You get perks.”
“What kind of perks? Those guys probably pay through their teeth for you.”
“They do and it all funnels to my charities.”
“More than the four-hundred-K we pay, I’d assume.”
“You assume right. Your perk is that you don’t have to attend my fundraisers. They do.”
“I’m surprised you don’t make us go. Why don’t you?”
“The rote answer is because the MC helped make me who I am and that’s donation enough.” I took a sip of my chai, bracing myself for his next question.
“What’s the real answer?”
Two weeks ago, I’d never have told him, but we had declared an impasse, and that was more important than anything else.
“That I’m terrified you’ll end up in jail, so I’ll do whatever I have to to make sure that never happens.”
More silence boomed down the line, louder than a foghorn. “You look after me in your own way, huh?” he eventually muttered.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Rach.”
“You’re welcome.”
It might not seem like a nurturing move, but the MC got into a lot of hot water. It was a good thing that ice flowed through my veins.
“If I find out Maverick knew about your loopholes, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
“Exactly what he doesn’t need with his CTE,” I drawled.
“Fucker,” he grumbled. “He probably does know. My fucking friends but they’ve always been protective as hell about you, even when it bites me in the ass.”
My lips curved slightly. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
He sniffed. “Wanna bet? Anyway, who’s your biggest client?”
I didn’t mind him changing the subject. “Not gonna tell you that,” I taunted. “Ever heard of NDAs?”
“I’m curious!”
“Well, tough. If someone asked me if you were a client, I’d throw the same answer back at them.” A moment passed, and I demanded, “Are you pouting?!”
“Maybe.”
A chortle escaped me. “You’re nuts.”
“Just for you.”
Those three words settled deep in my being, warming me from the inside out.
“I thought our calls today would be awkward.”
“The idea is for us to open up to each other,” he answered gently. “That won’t happen if we shut each other out.”
He was right, but I’d still expected him to give me attitude.
“I’m not complaining.”
“Good.”
The server appeared again, this time with my salad. As I started to eat, I asked, “How did it go with Wynter?”
“What are you eating?”
“It went bad, huh?”
“Nope. But I want to know what you’re eating.”
“An avocado salad.”
“Sounds disgusting.”
“I like it. Go on then, tell me what happened.”
“She opened up to me after I told her why we had her adopted.”
My stomach started churning and I placed the fork down. “She must hate me.”
“No. She might have before. Or, well, to be honest, I think hate’s too strong a word. I think it was more like she was angry and resentful. When I explained, she looked sad. Like she could understand.”
I released a shaky breath. “Does she want to meet with you again?”
“She agreed. I took her to school on my bike and asked if she wanted me to pick her up—she said yes.”
His excitement was clear.
I smiled and picked up my fork again. “I’m so glad. What are you going to do?”
“Mostly feed her. I found out that her mom co-signed on the lease for her. But I don’t know why, and I don’t think she’ll tell me. I offered to help out with the rent, but that might be too soon to get her to agree.”
“The place she’s living in is that bad?”
“It’s a shithole.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe you could arrange with her to pick her up for breakfast and to drop her off after school?”
“Do you think she’d be okay with that? It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
“Suggest it gradually. She’s hungry?”
“Yeah. She ate an omelet, a breakfast muffin, and two pastries.”
My brows lifted. “Is she underweight?”
“No. But I get the feeling this is a recent change.”
Unease filled me again. “Were they abusive? Her adoptive parents, I mean?”
“No. But her dad was, apparently, in debt with the Triads.”
“What?” I hissed.
“Calm down, Rach,” he soothed. “It pissed me off too. He’s a gambler. My sources tell me he always pays his debts.”
Hand tightening to the point of pain around my fork, I rasped, “They could have hurt her to get to him.”
“I’m trying not to think about that.”
“You’re right. It’s all conjecture until we know what’s going on.”
“We?” he asked quietly. “You interested, Rach?”
“Of course I am!”
“Couple months ago, when I raised the subject of Wynter, you started crying, Rach,” he soothed. “Then after Scott… I wasn’t being judgmental, just trying to assess your limits.”
“She’s one of my biggest regrets,” I whispered miserably. “Not the adoption. Just that I let her down.”
“You wish we’d raised her?”
“I wish I’d been able to.”
I stared down at my barely-showing belly and prayed to God that I’d be better with this one. That I’d be able to do it this time.
The actual process of being pregnant was terrifying to me.
This situation with Rex had to resolve itself soon because I’d need him to get through it. Yet…. Wynter needed him too. More than I did. She was only a kid, and I was a grown-ass woman.
“Me too,” he said on a sigh. “Should I have fought harder, Rach?”
“No. If you had, I’d have shattered into a million pieces. I barely kept it together as it was.” I stared down at the puddles of ranch dressing on my plate, trying not to feel nauseated when I knew I had to finish the meal. “I wish things were different, but they’re not.”
He sighed. “We can be there for her now, can’t we?”
“We can.” I raised my hand for the server. “Can I get some bottled water, please? With ice?”
She smiled at me then disappeared.
“You doing okay?”
“Been better.”
“Understandable.”
“What else did you learn?”
“She plays the piano.”
The smile that blossomed on my lips warmed my soul. “She does? You know—”
“You always wanted to learn how to play the piano. Yeah, I remember,” he teased me gently.
I picked up my fork. “I can’t believe she plays.”
“She’s with the school band too.”
My brows lifted as I swallowed some lettuce. “Really?”
“Really.”
I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. “Mr. Cool Dude King has a kid who’s a band geek.”
As I chomped on a walnut, he chuckled. “Yeah, it took me by surprise too. But as long as it makes her happy, that’s all that matters, right?”
My smile appeared again. “Right.”
After five minutes of him telling me my daughter looked like us both, loved history, and that he was going to buy her her own helmet, my plate was empty and I hadn’t even realized I’d been eating.