Chapter 7 #2
Ruthie and Tulane share another moment of smiles and gazes before Ruthie glances at me. Her expression grows more thoughtful, then almost stern. She straightens her shoulders and lifts her head taller.
I’m liking the red-framed glasses on her, although her blonde hair is pulled back a bit too severely. She’s got that principal-vibes happening, but as often as I’d been called into a school office, no principal ever looked like her.
“Am I suddenly a page in your bad boy past?” she asks.
The sharp inhale I take causes me to catch a whiff of her scent. Floral and spice.
I’d love to tell Ruthie no. I’d love to say she isn’t a page but the start of a new chapter. I would love to explore more with her. However, a relationship is not in the books for me; not with this arrangement with Melody. Heck, I’m not even a reader.
I need a wife, and I—
The gears in my head chink slowly at first. Then, my slog brain churns faster and faster.
“Let’s head back to the conference room,” I state, needing a minute.
Could I explore more with Ruthie? Is there a way to keep her? The sudden idea is not that absurd, is it?
Then again, I’ve never been known to have sound thoughts or make smart decisions.
+ + +
Ruthie leads us back to the meeting space where Jared is standing, facing the windows, and Floyd is on his phone, seated at the table.
Jared turns as we enter and offers Ruthie a warm smile.
Floyd scowls in my direction. He hasn’t liked this new development in my life.
A daughter. He’s a shark and worked hard between Japanese law and American to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s, as he put it, to ensure Tulane was all mine, and I owe him.
Which is one reason I am willing to entertain his plan.
And another reason Melody Cross, his niece was proposed.
“Maybe the lady could take the child into the hall,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at me.
“The lady is right here,” Ruthie responds, giving Floyd a glimpse of her thorns despite her delicate appearance.
Jared chuckles, brushing off the sudden tension, and waves a dismissive hand at Floyd while taking his seat at the head of the table. “Let Tulane stay. This meeting concerns Ruthie as well.”
“It does?” Ruthie and I say in unison again, reminding us he’d said something similar earlier. I’m curious if Jared has the same sudden idea I do.
As I step toward the side of the table where Ruthie had been seated, Tulane drops forward again as if she wants Ruthie to take her.
My flower reaches out for my daughter, like it’s instinctual to take her from me. We stand in this awkward moment of Tulane leaning forward and Ruthie standing with her hands up, ready to catch my girl again.
“I don’t mind holding her, if you don’t mind.” Her voice is soft, her offer hesitant. Her eyes are wild while eager.
“Of course,” I state reluctantly, as I’ve become a bit of a helicopter parent when it comes to Tulane. A hovering father but not one who intends to smother my girl. She’ll be allowed to be whomever she wants to be. On her terms.
As I shift Tulane toward Ruthie, I narrowly miss a brush of my knuckles against her breasts in the pass off.
Ruthie easily pulls Tulane to her chest, and the girls focus on one another again.
Tulane’s small fingers fiddle with the buttons on Ruthie’s blouse, which is closed at her throat.
Ruthie smiles, stroking her finger around Tulane’s cheek.
Then Tulane settles her head against Ruthie’s shoulder.
Dammit. I shouldn’t like how good they look together. A simple bouquet of red and yellow.
“Shall we take our seats?” Jared directs, although he’s already seated.
I pull out Ruthie’s chair, placing my hand near her lower back to help her take a seat.
Then I lean across the table, setting my fingertips on my copy of the report, and slide the file across the table toward me.
I settle into the chair beside Ruthie where Tulane can see me, and I can keep my eyes on both of them.
“We left off where you need a wife,” Floyd begins. “A family man is more attractive to the Chicago Anchors in light of what’s recently happened on the team.”
One of their new-to-them players last season slept with a fellow teammate’s wife. Scandalous, indeed. I’m aware of Romero Valdez’s reputation, and at one time, worried mine equals his, but I’ve never, ever so much as look at a teammate’s wife or girlfriend other than in a friendly manner.
I do have boundaries.
I nod at Floyd, acknowledging my understanding, although my gut has told me his choice will never make a good wife nor a decent stepmother for Tulane.
I need a partner.
Tulane needs someone compassionate and caring to act as her mother.
This is the part that concerns me most. Would any woman want to mother my child?
And what would that do emotionally to Tulane when the year is up, and that woman is no longer contractually bound to us?
What damage will she have done if Tulane grows close to her?
What damage will be done if Tulane isn’t close with her?
My own experience with a mother who flitted into and out of her role is the background for my concerns, and I wasn’t comfortable with Tulane having a similar type of mother-figure.
Melody Cross is an issue for me.
“You will secure a full-time nanny,” Jared adds, as if reading my internal worries. If I have childcare, I don’t need a mother for Tulane. For appearances, I simply need a wife for me.
“And finally, I’m promoting Ruth to be your new agent.”
“You’re what?” Ruthie barks, leaning forward, clutching Tulane tightly in her arms.
“Why?” I choke, watching as Tulane slowly closes her eyes as if comfortable in Ruthie’s lap. Or maybe she just feels the sudden tension in the room and wants to shut it all off. I know I’d like to pretend none of this is happening.
Pretend I’m not agreeing to someone random being my wife.
“You’ll need someone full-time to coach you through appearances and monitor your behavior. Ruthie is being assigned to you.”
“Jared,” she groans. “No.” Her eyes widen, and an entire conversation ensues between them. Is it me? Am I the problem? Does she not want to be assigned to me? Then again, I don’t know that I can have Ruthie close to me, with another woman pretending to be my wife.
Eventually, Jared speaks again, his voice soothing. “This won’t be like the last time, Ruth, darling. You’re older, wiser, and better experienced. You can handle this assignment.”
What last time?
Ruthie falls back in her seat, still clutching Tulane who has closed her eyes and nestled her head into the space between Ruthie’s neck and shoulder.
I won’t think about how I nipped Ruthie there. Nope, not allowing those thoughts to enter my thick head.
Instead, I clear my throat. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about the assignment. The Reputation Repair Report. I’d like a new plan.”
Floyd groans and tosses his phone on the table. “You’re out of options, Bolan. You have a reputation as a loose cannon. And now this.”
He waves toward my baby girl in Ruthie’s arms, who looks like she’s holding Tulane even tighter, as if protecting her from the insult.
This. My child.
“A marriage is the best solution,” Floyd adds.
My earlier thought, the one that popped into my head while staring at Ruthie in the bathroom, tumbles forward.
“Then I don’t want Ruthie as my agent. I want her for my wife.”