Chapter 12
Brooks
I never considered parenting to be hard. Actually, I never considered parenting at all. Being a dad wasn’t in my DNA. My parents didn’t want me, which is how I ended up adopted. My biological father and I have somewhat of a relationship, so I understand why he did it. It’s the exact reason I didn’t want kids.
Leverage.
People will use the one thing that means the most to you to take advantage of you. And women? They’re as ruthless as the criminals my real father deals with. At least in my pretentious world. Before Presley, I reveled in the attention women gave me. Money, sex, and success. Just a man living his best life.
Then bam.
“Jessie had a baby. And we think it’s yours.”
The words that changed my life forever. Sounds dramatic, but it’s the hard truth. I met Jessie at a bar one night. Slept with her a few times, and then she disappeared. I never had a second thought about her again. She was like the rest of the women I slept with, forgettable .
Until a stranger walked into my office with news that cracked my life wide open. First, this stranger ended up being my sister. A sister I was unaware of. And second, Jessie had a baby. A baby who was apparently mine. Turns out, Jessie was playing a game, and I was a pawn. She meant to destroy my sister’s life, but in the end, it was hers that she ruined.
When the dust settled, I had a screaming seven-pound banshee, otherwise known as baby Presley. And my guilty pleasure of getting lost in womens’ arms became a distant memory. But I never once regretted Presley. The unconditional love I had for her the second I laid eyes on her is the eighth wonder of the world. There are days it stops me in my tracks. It’s a powerful emotion that brings out the best and worst in me.
She became my sole focus.
No more women.
Until…
“Daddy, I like Gracyn.”
Sigh. Yeah, kid. Me too .
Dancing with her in my arms felt invigorating. Powerful. Everyone was watching and not a single person knew that she was my wife. My. Fucking. Wife. I wasn’t lying when I told her about the rush I felt. In hindsight, I should’ve thought of a better word than owned. Little of my adult life has been my own, much to my credit. After being titled New York’s Bachelor of the Year when our business took off, at the ripe age of twenty-three, I craved being in the spotlight. I ultimately paid the price by giving up my privacy.
I should’ve been more careful with Gracyn. Or rather, let her leave after the wedding. People will question who she is. I wonder how much damage control I need to do. The annulment can’t come fast enough.
Except, I can’t stop thinking about her. She possesses the qualities I’d want my future wife to have. Confidence, caring, nurturing, and someone I can be myself around. To make matters worse, she wants to be a teacher. Which means my mom would approve. But that means nothing. I’ve known her for less than a month and have only spent three days with her. How much do I really know about her? Not enough to believe our marriage was destiny calling. A drunken night with a beautiful woman didn’t send my life on a different trajectory.
And Gracyn agrees.
Mistake.
End of story.
I peer down at Presley, who desperately wants a mom. “You met her once.”
I want to tell her that’s ridiculous. But is it? It only took me one night.
Presley skips around, grabbing her dance stuff as she goes, her ponytail swishing back and forth. “She was nice to me, and she’s very pretty.” That she is. I wonder if our shared attraction to the stranger is on a biological level. “You liked her too,” Presley sings. Little girls pick up on the tiniest details. It’s as if they’re wired to hear or see things they shouldn’t.
“Presley. She was only here for the wedding.” I squat, pulling her in between my legs. “And what have I told you about talking to strangers?”
Her squeals fill the room as I tickle her. Judith, Presley’s nanny, advises me to be more serious when reprimanding her, but her innocent blue eyes melt my stern facade. She knows it too, especially when she pulls out her fake crying. I swear she’s going to grow up to be an actress.
Or a con artist.
Just like her mom.
* * *
I drop my keys on the entry table and follow my nose to the kitchen. Standing at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand is Judith, with a big smile. The scent of rich, savory sauce fills the air, and it’s obvious Judith’s made my all-time favorite dish, her homemade lasagna.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe as I watch her stir the sauce.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I’m just happy. The wedding was magical this weekend, and it put me in a great mood. And I haven’t made it for you two in a while.”
“Well, you made my day,” I say, my stomach growling in agreement.
“I always love how much you enjoy my mom’s recipe.” She turns to check the noodles. “Oh, I meant to ask, was that woman okay?”
I try to recall if there was an incident at work today but draw a blank. “What woman?”
“The one you carried out of the wedding.” Her expression shifts to something between concern and mild embarrassment. “Was she that drunk?”
My head tilts, confused. “How did you see that?” She left with Presley at least thirty minutes before that happened.
“Sadie saw you leave with her,” she adds. “Don’t worry, she won’t tell anyone. She was just concerned.”
I sigh, irritated that Jared’s house manager is swapping stories with my nanny. They both signed NDAs, so they really shouldn’t be discussing anything they see.
“The lady was okay. A little too much of the open bar,” I say as I dip a spoon into the meat sauce, taking a small taste. “Hey, how’s Chuck?”
She playfully scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You know he’s just a friend. Nice deflection, though.” She leans against the counter, watching me expectantly, not letting it go. “Who was she? I’ve never seen her before but Presley seemed smitten. She wouldn’t stop talking about her on the way home.”
“She helped find Pres’s stuffy. Of course, she liked her. She’s her hero. But Ms. Carmichael was only in town for the wedding. I’m positive she left on a plane with a major hangover.”
A Brooks hangover .
I hide the smirk tugging at the corners of my lips as I walk out of the kitchen.
“She was strikingly beautiful. I wish I could pull off a dress like that,” she muses.
I flip through the pile of mail on the counter, pretending to give it my full attention. “Let me know when dinner’s done,” I say, already moving toward my office. I won’t eat until Presley is home from dance so we can eat together, but at least I can come out of hiding.
“Sure thing,” she replies to my back, amusement lacing her voice.