Chapter Twelve
Bailey
“You’re such a fool,” I muttered to myself. “He probably forgot all about you.”
I’d already had a hell of a week, and it was only Tuesday.
The day before had been taken up with me pleading with my sister to drop her idea and get into therapy instead, but she refused.
Belinda remained adamant about withdrawing her order of protection, and when Tuesday rolled around and she told me she’d never talk to me again if I didn’t do what she asked, I had no choice but to comply.
Reluctantly, I agreed, and I made the motion to the judge. I was interrogated as if I were the one who’d made the decision, but finally the motion was granted, and I called Belinda to tell her.
“Great. I can’t wait to tell Jonas.” She ended the call.
I continued to stare at the black screen of the phone. “You’re welcome. No problem at all. I always work for free.” Not that I expected payment, but a thank-you would’ve been nice.
What would have also been nice was a call from Keston. Or another surprise visit. This time I wouldn’t push him away. I’d rather be weak-willed and well-fucked than strong and solitary.
Unfortunately, my wishes didn’t come true, and I went to bed alone and woke up the same way.
I decided to drown my sorrows in a spin class.
If I couldn’t get screwed, I might as well get sweaty and sore another way.
The class was crowded, and I used the opportunity to check out the guys.
Skimpy, tight shorts made the hour go by quickly, and there was one guy in particular who’d always caught my eye.
He was no Keston, but I was so damn lonely.
The music stopped, and the class was over. I got off the bike and headed to the showers. I’d just finished drying my hair when the guy I’d ogled stopped behind me and ran a finger across my nape. He was still in his tight bike shorts, which showcased an impressive package.
“You missed a spot.” He smirked. “Want me to get it for you?”
I met his eyes in the mirror and handed him the blow dryer. “Sure.”
Hot air hit my neck, followed by his lips. “I’ve been watching you for a while.”
“Have you now?” I murmured, doing the dance, though my heart wasn’t in it.
“Wanna get together later?”
“Sure. Call me.” I reached into my wallet and handed him my card.
“My name’s Dallas. But in case you forget, lemme make sure you remember me.” Giving me no chance to take a breath, he kissed me, sticking his tongue down my throat while grabbing my ass. My instinct was immediate, and I pushed him away.
“Whoa. Slow your roll.” Huge cock or not, I didn’t like to be mauled. Plus, sloppy, wet kisses weren’t my thing.
Dallas rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those date-me-before-I-screw-you types. We both got an itch. Let’s scratch it.”
Maybe I was getting old. In the past, I might’ve been into a little bump and tickle with a random hottie, but somehow the prospect of being merely one more in line with this guy left me depressed.
Besides, I didn’t want him. I wanted Keston. Dammit.
“I hope you have something else going for you besides being hung like a horse, but I’m not interested in finding out. Lose my number.”
I walked away.
My day didn’t get any better in the afternoon. In the middle of preparing a complicated estate plan for a new client, I heard a loud, demanding voice outside my door. I tried to ignore it, but when I recognized who it was, I clicked out of the file.
Son of a bitch. Just what I didn’t need today. Keeping calm because I didn’t want to lose my cool, I opened my office door. In all my years of practice, she’d never come to my office. Why now?
“Jennifer, what do you want?” I put a hand on Lincoln’s shoulder to reassure him. “Don’t worry. She’s my mother.”
Lincoln gaped at me. “Mother? I-I’m sorry, Bailey. I didn’t know. She just came in and started demanding to see you and wouldn’t give me her name. I thought she was your new client at two o’clock, Mrs. Fishbein. The eldercare-abuse client.”
Without a word, Jennifer sailed past me in a cloud of cologne. Coughing, I waved a hand in front of my face. “Don’t worry, Linc. She might be my mother, but I’d barely call her that.” I squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
I returned to my office and shut the door. “To what do I owe this greatest of pleasures, Jennifer?”
My mother wasn’t done. “That sad excuse for a receptionist should be fired.”
I sat at my desk and clasped my hands. “Lincoln is the best. Why would I do that?”
She arranged her hair and smoothed her skirt. “I don’t think I look old enough to have an almost forty-year-old son, and he calls me elderly. How dare he?”
“Why are you here?” It could only be one thing. Money. That was the only reason my mother ever initiated contact with me, but I tried to keep an open mind and waited.
“I’m here to talk to you about selling the house. Every time I mention it, you ignore me. Here you can’t. I hate it, and I don’t belong there.”
So I wasn’t too far off. But instead of asking me for the cash outright, she went with the sentimental punch to the gut, and it worked. My stomach cramped. She was correct—I avoided talking about the subject. “Sell?” I repeated.
“It’s a hassle living in the middle of nowhere. If I sell, I’ll take the money and buy a little apartment in the city, where I belong.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not buried somewhere in Brooklyn to wither away.”
“Dad loved the house. He always told me he was the first one in his family to own property. Grandma and Grandpa were so proud of him.” Every holiday, my grandmother would cook a huge meal, as if ten people were joining us, instead of it being only the four of us.
I’d sit on the counter and help—whether it was stirring her matzo-ball soup, helping mix the potatoes for her latkes, or making Hamantaschen.
It was one of my core memories, and when they died within a year of each other after being married for over sixty years, I cried buckets.
All the people who’d ever truly loved me were gone.
“That’s a nice story, but it has nothing to do with me. Your grandparents never liked me.”
With good reason, I wanted to snap at her, but I restrained myself because it would only result in a shouting match, and this was my place of business.
“I’m not sure I want to sell.”
My father never bothered to change his will that left everything fifty-fifty to Jennifer and me. He probably never thought he’d die so soon. I was only in college, too young to say or do anything about it, even if I’d known.
A hot-red flush rose to her rouged cheeks. “You can’t be serious. Why would you want to stay attached to that dump?”
I struggled to maintain my composure. “It’s not a dump.
It’s my childhood home, all I have left of my father.
Dad loved that house—planting vegetables in the garden, playing catch with me in the yard, decorating it for Halloween.
You don’t give a damn because you don’t care about anything but yourself. ”
Ignoring my heartfelt words and how emotional I’d become, she curled her fingers into the palms of her hands. “I need that money, Bailey.”
“Maybe get a job.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Seeing me desperate, making me beg. I bet you think I deserve this.”
“Sorry, Jennifer. I know you might not believe it, but I don’t.
As a matter of fact, most days, I don’t think about you at all.
Now please excuse me, but I have work to get to.
” I got to my feet, walked to the door, and opened it.
Alone in my apartment, I could imagine a time my mother and I might have a relationship like my father had hoped for.
Face-to-face, we were oil and water, destined never to mix.
Fuming, she stomped by me and stood seething by the elevator. I waited until she disappeared to speak to Lincoln, who sat wide-eyed and openmouthed. I put up a hand.
“Don’t even ask. It’s a very long story I’ve got no desire to relate. Ever.”
As my mother exited, the second elevator opened and my next client stepped out.
The meeting with Mrs. Fishbein proved as long and complicated as I’d expected, and I’d never been happier to see my couch when I entered my apartment that evening.
With a beer in hand, I sank into the pillows and groaned.
A night of Netflix and chill, just me, myself, and I, didn’t seem like a bad thing.
Although I did wonder what Keston was up to.
Probably up inside someone else. I sighed, fighting the itch to text him.
My phone rang, and seeing it was Grady, I picked up, curious. We were friendly but not close like he was with Weston and Brenner. Still, I liked the guy, apart from his connection to his sexy-as-fuck brother.
“Hey, Grady, what’s up?”
“I’ve got some news. I’m getting engaged.”
“No shit? Mazel tov! Lauren is beautiful and smart—I’ve had some dealings with her at the DA’s office. Looks like you hit the jackpot.” As happy as I was for him, I wondered why Grady was calling to tell me this news.
“Thanks. I know I’m the lucky one. Still trying to figure out what she sees in me, but I’m not gonna look too deep.
Anyway, I’m having a little get-together this weekend to celebrate.
I’m doing the deed on Thursday, just Lauren and me, and then we’re having some people up to this cabin I rented for Friday and Saturday night for a celebration. I’d love it if you could make it.”
“Wow, uh, that’s really nice of you to include me, but—”
“You’re wondering why?”
I set my beer on the coffee table. “Well, yeah. Not that I don’t think you’re cool and a great lawyer. I just thought this would be something reserved for close friends and relatives.”
“Growing up in foster care, I didn’t have much of either. I’ve learned to be cautious, but I recognize good people I’d like to be around.”
“Thanks, Grady. I’m honored you want me at your special occasion. I’d love to come.”