Chapter 12Googly Eyes – Vic
Chapter 12
Googly Eyes – Vic
I ’m sitting in my office, casually dressed in an open-collar shirt and jeans, a much different vibe than most know me to give, but I find myself uncharacteristically at ease.
Lately, I’ve felt lighter, and my actions have seemed to reflect that as well.
Even now, I should be tackling the mound of paperwork on my desk, but instead, I’m doing what I’ve done every morning at 7:00 a.
m.
for the past two months—starting my day off by listening to the sweet sounds that steady my tense mood and calm my clouded mind.
“Good morning, Mr. Grimes,” Kerry cheerfully greets me through my kitchen camera.
Every morning.
Every afternoon.
Every evening.
I find myself the happiest I’ve been in years because of three people—Ari, Syd, and Kerry Kind.
“Morning, Ms. Kind. Are the girls up yet?” I ask playfully, fully aware of the answer.
“You know good and well they’re not!” Kerry laughs back.
“You left work early yesterday, then came home and got them all jacked up on cotton candy! You’ve been breaking all the rules lately. What’s happened to you, Mr. Grimes?”
She happened.
Kerry’s unexpected emergence in my life gentled the hardened parts of my soul.
“Your recklessness is rubbing off on me.” I playfully remark.
“Oh really? Is it my recklessness or my infectious joy? Because I bet you’re smiling right now.” She laughs .
And she’s right.
Smiling is all I’ve been doing lately, much to my own surprise.
“So…” Switching gears, she tones down the cheerfulness.
“Today’s the big day. Are you ready?”
“For you to officially be my woman in public? No, of course, I’m not ready.” I admit, as grim as ever.
Kerry laughs softly, “Oh my gosh, I wish I could see your face right now. Everything’s gonna be okay. This will be great for your image, but most importantly, the girls will be so happy to get out and have some fun. So, please don’t be late.”
“I won’t be,” I assure her.
“Just make sure Syd takes it easy on her arm this morning. No more dance-offs for a while.”
She beams through the camera with a smile as bright as the morning sun.
“Syd’s just as competitive as you, so tell that to yourself! She has to wear her arm compression sleeve all day because y’all are both so dang on stubborn. But don’t worry, I’m turning that sleeve into a fashion statement with some glitter and butterfly patches to match her braids. We had a blast last night, though.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“You gotta send me pics.”
“Of course,” She replies with a playful grin.
“Need anything from me?”
She asks like there’s more I could possibly want beyond her being here, which makes me hesitate for a second.
“Well,” I start, clearing my throat, “are we still on for our evening drink? Your glass of wine?”
“And your shot of whiskey?” she adds with a soft laugh, her voice dipping into that flirtatious charm that always sneaks up on me.
“I look forward to our talks.”
“Me too,” I admit, my tone quieter than I intended, but I shake it off quickly.
“Now, stop distracting me. I need to at least pretend I’m working. Call me when the girls wake up?”
“Always.” She chuckles as she turns away from the camera with her perfectly curved figure momentarily catching my eye before I forcibly drag my gaze away to refocus.
Just as I’m about to dive into the work I’ve been neglecting, Hudson’s voice slices through the quiet of my office.
“Lusting over the hot nanny, I see. ”
I roll my eyes, leaning back in my chair.
“Kerry and I agreed to amend her title. She’s not my nanny. She’s the girls’ homeschool teacher.” I clarify, trying not to sound defensive but utterly failing.
Mom’s here too, joining in on Hudson’s foolishness with an amused smirk playing on her lips.
“Kerry sure does a lot for a teacher. She’s even got you dressing down now, huh? Who are you, and what has she done with my son?”
Their teasing grates on my nerves, but I can’t help but laugh.
“Ha, ha, ha, very funny. I was up late last night playing Dance Dance Revolution with Syd then Ari kicked my butt in a midnight game of soccer.”
I learned a few things about myself hanging out with my girls last night.
First, I can’t see in the dark.
Secondly, my nine year old may be a future soccer champion.
And third, despite my perfect body, I’m completely out of shape.
I couldn’t move this morning.
I literally rolled out of bed!
Hudson and Mom exchange knowing looks, both of them smiling like they’re in on some joke I missed.
“Wow,” Mom says softly, her eyes shining with something more than amusement.
I narrow my gaze, suddenly uneasy.
“What?”
They don’t answer right away.
They just keep grinning at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended.
Hudson just shakes his head, still smirking.
“Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”
But Mom’s expression softens.
“It’s just nice to see you so...happy. You haven’t been this lively in years.”
Her words strike a chord, one I didn’t realize had been waiting to be played.
I nod in agreement, acknowledging a truth I hadn’t fully admitted to myself until now.
I haven’t felt this light in years.
After the loss of my wife, a permanent fog settled over my life, dampening even my brightest days.
I threw myself into work and fatherhood, convincing myself that fulfilling my responsibilities was all the satisfaction I needed, but Kerry’s arrival has shifted something fundamental within me.
Coming home every day to a house filled with love, laughter, and a newfound peace is nothing short of a blessing.
It’s a gift that had been cruelly snatched away and then unexpectedly returned through Kerry’s presence.
She’s rekindled a part of me I thought had left forever with my late wife—the ability to connect intimately, to fos ter a personal relationship that transcends the boundaries of family and business.
In her, I’ve found someone I can come home to and share all my problems, fears, worries, stresses, and even joy.
Kerry has become a friend, a friend I’m grateful to have in my life.
Granted, we butt heads nearly every day, but by the end of the night, when it’s just us, sipping on wine and whiskey, all is forgotten.
The only thing that remains is the comfort our presence seems to bring each other.
“Alright, stop with all the coded looks,” I say, snapping out of my thoughts and narrowing my eyes at Hudson and Mom, who are exchanging smug glances.
“It’s obvious that Kerry’s awesome. She’s sweet, nurturing, funny, smart. She’s… she’s perfect for the girls.”
“Who knows?” Mom shrugs, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Maybe she’s perfect for you too.” She adds a playful wink as if that’s supposed to be subtle.
I shake my head, letting out a dry laugh.
“Nope, not happening. I’m her boss, Mom. I’d never cross that line,” I say firmly, ignoring the flicker of heat in my chest as I think about the one or two too many times I almost did.
“You sure ‘bout that?” Hudson asks, arching an eyebrow. “You got that dinner date tomorrow night, and I know Kerry’s gonna be lookin’ good. Umm, umm, umm , that woman…” He trails off, shaking his head with an exaggerated grin, clearly imagining Kerry in some disrespectful scenario that sets my blood boiling.
I glare at him, my jaw clenching tight. “Hudson,” I snap, my voice dropping an octave, “whatever you’re thinking, you better chill… now .”
His grin evaporates, and he throws his hands up in mock surrender. “So… your friend slash nanny that you’d never cross the line with is off-limits, even in my thoughts ? Got it.” He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair like he’s the victim here.
“Boys, that’s enough talk about Ms.
Kind,” Mom cuts in, her tone sharp enough to slice through the tension.
She smooths down the front of her blouse, giving us both a look that brokers no argument.
“Besides, she’s way too good for the both of you.”
Hudson mumbles under his breath but wisely keeps it low enough that I can’t catch the words .
“Now,” Mom continues, her voice all business, “let’s focus. We’ve got a PR situation to handle, remember?”
With that reminder, we make our way to the boardroom, where the number one topic of discussion happens to be my love life.
If I have to endure one more conversation about taking photos with my so-called arm candy, hyping up the image of being a hot single dad, or generating buzz, I’m going to lose it.
I understand that I’ve stepped back from the spotlight for the past five years and that my personality hasn’t always been.
.
.
stellar.
But I’m a master chef, the best on this side of the hemisphere.
I can anchor a cooking show.
I can be the face of my restaurants.
And I can certainly secure lucrative brand deals without the GQ hype.
I don’t need to put on a dog and pony show gallivanting around town with Kerry on my arm like a prop.
I’m adamant about not turning our working relationship into a public spectacle.
She’s far more than just a pretty face to parade around.
Yet, despite my resistance, we agree to officially begin our public charade today.
“Mr. Grimes, you’ve been supposedly dating your bombshell, small-town girlfriend for months,” my head of PR snaps, her frustration mirroring my own.
“So why haven’t we seen a single post on social media? Why hasn’t there been a glamorous getaway to get the bloggers riled up? You need to be out on the town with your face in front of cameras as much as possible. She’s our key to making you more human, softer, more likable. You haven’t even been spotted out as a family. I’m sure the girls adore her.”
I clench my jaw, the tension snapping like a rubber band.
“First off, don’t mention my daughters.” My voice drops, low and firm.
“Secondly, I value my privacy, and so does Kerry. And thirdly, it’s my culinary creations that should be drawing attention, not my personal life.”
“Exactly,” Mom chimes in, nodding her support like she’s been waiting to back me up.
“Wrong,” Hudson cuts in, leaning forward with that infuriating know-it-all smirk.
“We’re launching three new ventures in the next six months, Vic. Your name needs to be at the forefront of everyone’s minds before the show even airs. You’re not just a CEO; you’re a figurehead.”
“Well, I don’t need to be like every other CEO, Hudson .”
“Oh, you definitely aren’t. I’ve never met a CEO more concerned with menial matters like restaurant menu items over profit margins, branding strategies, and securi ng partnerships,” Hudson fires back, his voice sharp with barely concealed frustration.
“You get to play chef while I handle the real work that keeps this company running.”
I slowly exhale, willing myself to stay calm, but my patience is hanging by a thread.
“The real work? Is that what you think?”
Hudson scoffs, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed like he’s been waiting to let this all out.
“Who do you think kept our doors open during the market crash, Vic? Who locked in the deal that got our cookware line onto every website and in every high-end department store across the country? Who negotiated the damn TV show that you get to be the face of? Meanwhile, you were off perfecting your butter-poached scallops.” He shakes his head, laughing bitterly.
“So, forgive me if I don’t think your priorities are straight. You shouldn’t even be the one calling the shots.”
I slam my hand down on the table, rattling the water glasses and our executive leaders.
“Yet, I am . ” My voice is steady, unwavering.
“I’m the one sitting at the head of this table. I’m the one Dad named CEO. Not you.”
Hudson’s jaw tightens, and his glare is sharp—flashing with something between anger, betrayal, embarrassment, and forced humility, but he doesn’t push back, at least, for now.
The room is tensely silent, and the rest of the team sits stiffly, exchanging cautious glances while their leaders navigate the fine line between personal feelings, family spats, and professional duty,
Nevertheless, my resolve hardens.
I won’t let our feelings or some corporate strategy undermine the genuine connection I’m building with Kerry, or worse, put my daughters in the crosshairs of public scrutiny for the sake of buzz.
I’ll protect them at all costs.
My daughters are perfect, and I refuse to allow the darkness of others to dim their shining light.
I take a slow breath, recalibrating, shifting the focus back to the actual meeting.
“Look, I get it. Optics matter. But I won’t turn my personal life into a marketing campaign just because it fits neatly into a PR strategy. I’ll manage my personal life on my own,” I assert firmly.
“I’m fine with being photographed and seen at events. I gave you a list of planned appearances with Kerry and the girls. Anywhere else, any other time I haven’t approved, is where I draw the line. ”
My PR head still looks wary after the verbal brawl but presses on carefully.
“Vic, no one’s asking you to exploit your daughters. We’ll work with what we’re given, but the reality is we need a balance. You can’t keep hiding behind your food. People connect with people, not just recipes.” She concedes, offering a compromising but satisfied smile.
I nod, simply wanting the conversation to end.
For the next three hours, Hudson and the team dive deep into financials, outline quarterly projections, and discuss my upcoming press tour while Kerry and I text back and forth about the girls.
I’m anxious to get out of here, and just as I think we’re wrapping up, my agent clears her throat.
“The studio’s been considering some potential co-hosts for the show,” She begins cautiously, glancing at me like she’s waiting for an explosion.
I sigh, already exasperated.
“Go on.”
Encouraged, she slides four glossy photos across the table.
“We’ve narrowed it down to these candidates. They’re young, gorgeous, charismatic, photogenic, and used to being in front of the camera.”
“But are they chefs?” I ask, skepticism dripping from every word.
“Well, they’re more like… self-taught culinary influencers with at least 100,000 followers on social media,” she replies, her voice losing confidence with every word.
“They’re what? ” I exclaim, incredulous.
“You want me to work with—”
Hudson cuts me off, grinning like the devil himself.
“Money makers, yes! They’ve got personalities that really pop—something you don’t have. They aren’t just any social media chefs; they’re trendy. They could really spice up the show with some youth, click-worthy energy. This is the way the industry is moving, Vic.”
I scoff, shaking my head.
“ The industry, ” I mutter.
“What a joke.”
“These are credible candidates, Victor. Just review their profiles and pick one.” My agent insists, her patience clearly wearing thin.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hudson says, snatching the photos off the table.
“I’ll handle it.” He stands abruptly, his frustration barely contained.
“I swear he has no business being in this position.” He mutters, just loud enough for me to hear while he storms out.
Mom covers her face with her hand in frustrated shame over our behavior.
Meanwhile, I glance at my watch and curse under my breath .
“Damn it, I need to go,” I announce, standing so quickly my chair scrapes against the floor.
Everyone in the room freezes.
“Mr. Grimes,” a board member stammers, clearly bewildered.
“You’re leaving? Now? ”
I adjust my jacket, offering a tight, unapologetic smile.
“Yes, I am. I’m off to do exactly what everyone wants me to do. Spend time with my amazing woman and my two incredible daughters.”
“But sir, you’ve never left work this early—”
Mom’s grin grows broader.
“You heard him. He has important places to be, which doesn’t include this office. You want Hudson to manage today’s meetings?” She glances at me for confirmation.
“Absolutely,” I reply without hesitation, already halfway to the door.
I hurry to the elevator, tapping my foot impatiently as it descends ten agonizing floors.
The moment the doors slide open, I spot Gary parked right out front.
He starts to get out to open the door for me, but I wave him off and slide in quickly.
“Sir, you’re late. Ms. Kind won’t be happy,” Gary remarks with a knowing grin as I buckle my seatbelt.
“I know,” I sigh, running a hand over my fade.
“She and the girls are definitely going to give me a hard time. How far are we from Main Street? And—” I pause, glancing at my reflection in the window.
“How do I look?”
“Dapper, sir. Very dapper,” Gary replies with a chuckle, shaking his head.
I huff out a laugh, and then my expression softens.
“Gary, how was Ari this morning? We barely spoke, and I know she was stressed about her leg and the dress. Honestly, her meltdowns scare me, and Kerry handles them way better than I ever could.”
Gary chuckles, “She certainly has a way with them, doesn’t she? You’ll be happy to hear that Ms. Kind has everything under control. The ladies have been pampering themselves all morning—hairdresser, then nail salon. They’ve been having a blast.”
“What?!” My surprise borders on betrayal.
“They did all that without me?”
“Easy, Mr. Grimes,” Gary soothes, glancing at me through the rearview mirror with an amused smile.
“Would you really want to sit in a salon all morning? ”
I pause, consider it, and then sigh dramatically.
“Good point, Gary. I’ll just stick with this. Are the Kinds able to make it today?” I ask, reminiscing on last weekend’s festivities.
“Nope, he still hates you, Sir.” Gary chuckles.
Yeah, about that…
as expected, when Kerry’s parents returned from vacation, they weren’t thrilled to learn their daughter was dating a man with not one but TWO kids.
And, of course, they weren’t thrilled to learn about it from the town’s social media pages, let alone the Shaderoom .
Why in the world are her parents even following a gossip blog?
I knew they weren’t going to be easy to win over, but damn, I just keep digging myself into a deeper hole.
Last Sunday, Kerry ushered us over to her parents’ house for dinner.
What she didn’t tell me was that she promised her mom that I’d help her cook.
So, there we were side by side, cooking a Southern Sunday feast – mac and cheese, smothered chicken, potato salad, yellow rice, and cabbage.
My blood pressure spiked every time I saw how much seasoning Mrs.
Kind poured over the food.
She emptied nearly half a bottle of Lawry’s into every dish.
Meanwhile, Kerry sat in the living room with her dad and the girls, watching the Greer United Soccer team get their asses handed to them.
I laughed with every bad play, only causing Mr.
Kind to glare at me.
Needless to say, her father still hates me, but I’m happy to say they love Syd and Ari.
But even with all the judgmental glares and accidental insults thrown my way, being there with Kerry, my girls, and her parents felt good.
It felt warm.
It felt right.
“I’m gonna win them over soon, Gary. You just wait.” I say confidently.
We both laugh and joke about the numerous ways Mr.
Kind threatened to make me disappear before we arrive in downtown Greer.
The moment I spot my two little girls bopping down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand with Kerry, my heart races.
It took some convincing, over a month to be exact, but I welcome the idea of my daughters making friends.
Ari’s smile is as bright as ever for her first day out in our new town.
I can’t shield them from every bad person on earth, but I can expose them to the good, to people who can enrich lives and make way for my girls to enrich others .
And well, if the people of this town are as good and pure-hearted as Kerry, then I’m willing to give them a chance.
“Daddy! You made it!” Syd runs into my arms, adorable as ever, with her butterfly clipped braids and compression sleeve decorated with butterflies to match.
“Hey, hey, hey, now. Didn’t I tell you to relax your arm for the day? You’re flapping them around like a chicken when you run.” I playfully tease her while spinning her around.
“And shouldn’t you be in the bed or soakin’ in the tub after I whooped your butt last night? You shouldn’t ever try to break dance again!” Syd fires back.
I hear Ari and Kerry’s soft voices in the background and manage to tear my attention away from Syd to my other little angel—the one whose mind is surely racing with her insecurities, the one who’s extraordinary in every way but simply wants to be seen as normal.
She’s wearing a sporty shorts set with her full self on display, and she’s perfect.
I gasp, dramatic on purpose, hoping to pull a smile from her face.
“Is that my Ari wearing shimmery nail polish nearly blinding me? Or is that just your perfect smile?”
She giggles.
“Dad!” Rolling her eyes.
“Do you like my nails? What about my hair? Look at my curls! They’re so pretty. Ms. Kind did them. We’re twinsies now.”
“You look beautiful, baby girl.” I hug her with one arm while still holding Syd.
Then, I look at Kerry with admiration and add, “Good afternoon, Kerry. You look beautiful as well.”
She blushes, but I don’t quite know why.
She knows she’s gorgeous, and she knows how hard it is for me to take my eyes off her.
Unless the girls have something to say about it, of course.
“Ooh, Daddy’s giving my Ms. Kind googly eyes again.” Syd interrupts our moment.
I sigh, rolling my eyes while Kerry blushes even harder.
We all hold hands and step into the ice cream shop for our first family day and Kerry’s official first day out in public as my girlfriend .