12. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Harvey
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in the little boy walking up the steps into that hellhole of an apartment.
The place is old and falling apart. It’s not what I had as a child his age. When I was little, I had the best of everything, including a house in the safest area. Chad doesn’t seem bothered by it, though. I wait in case Jemima turns back around, but when they both disappear from my vision, I head to my car.
Chad goes against everything I thought kids brought into one's life. My friend Xavier has a child. He was on track to make partner at his firm when he had a baby on the way. His partner said they'd "figure it out together," but somehow, it all landed on him. He missed deadlines, skipped networking events, and suddenly he’s the guy who’s "not reliable."
We invite him out, but he’s always too exhausted. I never want that for myself while I’m trying to set myself up. In five or ten years? Sure, but now? No.
But then why do I care where they live?
Why do I care about her?
I find her beautiful in that effortless way. She doesn’t care to put on makeup or dress up in order to impress anyone. But the natural flush of her cheeks on her pale face makes me crave for her to touch me again.
Maybe that's the problem. She touched my dick and now I can’t stop myself from wanting her to do it again.
At first, I didn’t know how to talk to Chad. I haven’t interacted with children much. My brothers don’t have kids. All my close friends are childless too—except Xavier, and we’re not as close as we used to be—meaning my experience is minimal. But Chad was honest and fun. It was nice shooting hoops with him, and having his mom squirming made it that much sweeter.
The time went by so fast today when the three of us were hanging out. I’d steal the occasional glance at Jemima, who at times shared her softer side.
She’d hate it if I pointed that out.
Chad has the same honey-colored eyes as his mom, but his hair color is much lighter. That he must get from his dad.
I’m aware of her ex-husband’s recent arrest because one of my staff members brought it to my attention when I was originally going to acquire Jemima’s business. But we haven’t spoken about it.
Is she done with him? He’s in jail, but it doesn’t mean she’s over him. Again, I don’t know why I care; I don’t need to know anything that’s going on in her life. She has a kid, and that's one thing I’m not ready for.
I’ll learn the business, make it profitable, and then get the money from my father and move on. But I don’t want to hurt Chad like that, especially after everything he’s been through with his father. During the basketball game, he mentioned he played with his dad before he went away. The question “do you know where?” sat on the tip of my tongue, but it didn’t feel right to ask him. I’ll have to ask her.
He didn’t seem upset when talking about his dad.
I think about my parents and my silver spoon life versus what he’s got. Yet, he doesn't know what he’s missing. He’s truly a happy kid. And that has to come from Jemima. She’s a wonderful mother, trying to do her best in life. She’s trying to protect her family, and I can’t blame her. I just wish she didn’t see me as the enemy. I want her to see me as more than someone with money.
Driving to Grams’, I wear a stupid grin that refuses to leave my face. The moment I step into her limestone house, she asks what I’m so happy about.
“I’m happy to see you.”
“Don’t fib, Harvey.” She giggles, gracefully making her way with her walker toward her kitchen, and I eagerly follow.
“How do you know?” I ask, my grin widening.
“I’ve watched you grow up, dear.” She starts gathering ingredients for the cake she’s about to make.
Her mention of my upbringing causes me to ask something that’s been playing on my mind since I left Jemima’s.
“Do you think I’m different because I grew up in a more privileged lifestyle?”
She pauses her task to face me, giving me her full attention.
“Not at all, Harvey. From what I’ve seen, you’ve always had a strong sense of determination?”
“People call me cocky,” I interrupt, a tinge of defensiveness in my voice.
“Don’t say that word,” she says firmly but kindly. “You grow up how you grow up; that’s not a choice you get. It’s what you choose to do with the rest of your life, but even more than that, it’s how you treat people. Do you treat them like you're better than them because you have money, and they don’t?”
“No,” I say, the words coming out stronger than I expected.
“Exactly.” She smiles and returns to pour the batter into the tin. “You’re a brilliant man. Money or not, you were born to be successful because you work hard. And you’ve got great parents who pushed you to see your potential.”
I was lucky to have two great parents. Helping Chad’s mom save the business will help him and that’s where my focus needs to stay.
“Thanks, Grams.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I glance at her pale complexion.
“I wish people would stop fussing over me. I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”
My lips twitch at her smart comeback. This interaction warms my heart and reminds me of the easy banter I have with Jemima.
“I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself.”
“Your dad’s here every day watching over me. I can’t scratch myself without him worrying about me. All I’ll be remembered for is having cancer.”
Is that what she actually thinks?
My heart sinks at her admission. “Grams, you’ll be remembered for being the most fearless woman anyone has ever met.”
“Don’t flatter me, you look silly doing it.”
I laugh.
She steps over and cups her hand to my cheek, her fingers cool against my face. I swallow the question, Do you need the heater turned up or a thicker cardigan ?
She drops her hand away from my cheeks, and as I see her veiny, frail hands, it hits me how we don’t know how much time we’ll have with her.
When she carries the tin to the oven, the chocolate mix makes my mouth water. I’ve always had a thing for chocolate, and it brings back the moment when Chad told me Jemima also likes chocolate. A secret I’m sure she didn’t want me to know.
Eyeing the empty bowl, I dip my finger in, and I scoop up some batter. Grams smacks the back of my hand and warns me, “Harvey.”
I chuckle around my finger as the sweetness of the raw batter hits my tongue.
“Your baking is too good to resist.”
“You’ve always had a sweet tooth.”
I laugh as a memory floods my mind. “I was always the first to steal the bowl and run around the house with Oliver chasing me.”
“Or Jeremy trying to trick you so he could grab it first. But you always figured it out and you never lost.”
“I never did.”
Truthfully, I’ve never lost anything. Determination and intelligence are my power tools.
I help her clean up the kitchen and make her tea, before joining her on her plush sofa. When her eyelids droop, I can tell she needs to rest, so I stand.
Her eyes widen at my movement. “Where are you going?”
“Rest, Grams.” I kiss her paper-thin temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” I whisper.
She smiles, not bothering to argue.
At least one woman in my life isn’t arguing with me.