Chapter Thirty-three
An exhausting afternoon at the park leads to naptime for Maisy. She snuggles Bolt in her arms. He’s a happy recipient of her attention. The two of them are inseparable. Standing in the doorway, I watch her drift off. When I’m certain she’s out, I walk back down the hall, passing Blake’s office. He wouldn’t mind if I checked out his wine collection, would he?
It’s a lie I tell myself to assuage the guilt for entering his private space. I do look at the extensive wine rack, but then I slip into the large office chair behind his desk. I sink into the comfortable leather, imagining him typing away on his laptop or having remote meetings with… whoever he does that sort of thing.
He’s the heir to a successful winery. That means Maisy is too. That may make her life easier in some ways, but, like me, she’ll still be the deaf child of hearing parents, which comes with its own obstacles.
Suddenly my mouth goes dry. What if Lucinda has changed? What if she not only wants Maisy back, but wants to give it a go with Blake? After all, isn’t the best thing for a child to be with both biological parents?
I sigh, thinking of the monster who is my own biological father. No, it’s definitely not always best.
Without even thinking, I get up, leave his office, and turn the corner into Blake’s bedroom. I’ve never been in this room before. I inhale and get bombarded with his cologne. My eyes close and my mind wanders as I bask in the scent. Before I know it, I’m making his bed. Then I’m sitting on it. I’m sitting on it wondering how many women have sat here before me. How many has he—
My phone vibrates.
Sierra: He’s buying it, hook, line, and sinker. I’ve been texting Mom’s old phone for two weeks, sending pictures of me in New Zealand. After a week, I started acting worried, asking her why she wasn’t responding. Then today she did. I mean, he obviously did for her. Ellie, he doesn’t want me to know she’s gone. He probably thinks I’d assume he hurt her again, or worse. So he’s pretending everything is copacetic knowing I won’t be back in the states for months.
I lie back on Blake’s pillow, enveloped by the scent that has pleasurable memories bombarding me.
Me: That’s a relief. She’s doing well in her new job. I check on her a lot. She’s shy and reserved and keeps to herself, but she seems to be doing okay. I doubt she’ll truly be happy until she’s totally out from under his control.
Sierra: Do you think he’ll just give up eventually?
Me: I don’t know. Men like that need to win.
Sierra: I was afraid you were going to say that.
Me: We’ll think of something. In the meantime, have a great season. Don’t worry about your mom. I’ve got an eye on her.
Sierra: I can’t thank you enough. I can already tell a difference when I talk to her. She was never able to text so freely. She knew he would read them. It’s like I have a new mother.
Me: Just wait until she’s completely free of him—that’ll be a day for celebration.
Movement out of the corner of my eye surprises me. Blake is leaning against the bedroom doorway, a smug smile dancing across his face.
I sit up quickly, text Sierra goodbye and… well, shit, there’s just no way to recover from this predicament.
I throw an embarrassed hand across my face, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“Sorry,” I sign.
He laughs. “Don’t ever feel sorry for being in my bed. In fact, I think you should be here more often.”
I swing my legs over the side, stand up, and straighten the wrinkles. Then, shaking my head at my stupidity, I head for the living room.
I turn and sign, “How was it?”
He sighs and sits on the couch as if gathering his thoughts. My entire body tenses as my worst fears linger.
It takes him a good five minutes to text me the complete details of their meeting.
She’s dying?
She won’t be in Maisy’s life? Or Blake’s? I scold myself for the fleeting sense of relief that courses through my body. I should be sad, not relieved. I’m disgusted with myself after processing how awful that must be for such a young woman. No matter how pitiful a parent she is, I vow never to be okay with another person’s misery.
Me: What are you going to do?
Blake: What do you think I should do? Do you think it would mess with Maisy’s head if I took her there?
Me: I’m not a psychologist, but I do have a lot of experience with deaf children and what they do and don’t understand, although Maisy has proven to be the most interesting by far.
“You mean the most difficult.”
Me: That’s not what I said. And I don’t think of it that way. To answer your question, I’m not sure. From what you told me, it seems that Lucinda and Maisy’s relationship may have been nothing more than warden and prisoner. She was neglectful to the point of it being a criminal offense, one she only got away with because she went to rehab instead of jail. Becoming sober has shown her the error of her ways. But that doesn’t mean Maisy will understand. How could she? It took a long time for her to understand you’re her father. One thing is for sure, Maisy will be confused. She may think you’re taking her back to live with Lucinda.
Blake’s jaw drops and he sits heavily on the couch, as if the weight of the situation finally hit him.
“What?” I sign.
After resting his forearms on his knees and taking some deep breaths, he texts.
Blake: I’ve been so consumed over what to do about this situation that I forgot what it means. Maisy is mine. I’ll have sole custody. She’ll live here with me. Forever.
I can see the battle in his eyes. He wants to jump for joy over the fact that there won’t be a custody battle. There won’t be visitation schedules and co-parenting arguments. No back and forth from here to the city. No frustrations if Lucinda doesn’t up her parenting game. At the same time, however, it’s only happening because Lucinda will be gone.
“Maisy is yours,” I sign. “She’ll live here with you forever.” I teach him the signs and watch his reality sink in even more as he does them back to me.
“The grandparents?” I sign.
Blake: They didn’t want anything to do with her before. I’m not sure they would now. Besides, no judge would hand over custody from a loving father to people who left her with a stranger to go on a world cruise.
His head slumps and his hands scrub across his face. Finally he looks up. “She’s mine,” he says, glancing back at the bedroom where his daughter is napping after a long day at the park. “She’s all mine.”
Me: I’ll reach out to our school psychologist. He knows Maisy. But in my opinion, I’d leave well enough alone. Lucinda said it herself, Maisy had a better relationship with the maid. Trying to explain to Maisy that Lucinda is her mother but she’s dying and that’s the last time she’ll see her—it could do more damage and potentially cause setbacks.
“My thoughts exactly,” he signs. “But I figured I was just being selfish.” He fingerspells selfish and I show him the sign.
Me: Blake, you are the most selfless man I’ve ever met.
He looks up, a smile finally crossing his face. He grabs the back of my knee, urging me closer. I’ve no choice but to sit on his lap or fall over the edge of the couch. He swipes a piece of hair behind my ear. “You are the most beautiful woman.”
He got the ‘most’ sign wrong, but with the way he’s looking into my eyes, now is not the time for a lesson.
“What time did Maisy go to sleep?”
“Twenty minutes.”
His smile widens. “We have at least an hour then. Stay?”
I feel his erection beneath me as I contemplate his invitation.
“Stay, Ellie,” he signs, with as much emotion on his face as I’ve ever seen.
I don’t answer. Or maybe I do. My lips lower to meet his. As we kiss, a thousand things go through my head. How I wasn’t lying, he’s the most selfless man I’ve ever met, right up there with my father.
There are so many things about this man that I’m drawn to. Almost all of them have to do with his daughter. His resilience. His ability to adapt. His larger-than-life heart. Not to mention his smile, and… well, other parts of his anatomy.
I pull away. I can’t fall in love with a man who goes through women like frat boys through beer.
Even if I could put aside all the stories, rumors, and flat-out facts I’ve heard about him. Even if he has miraculously changed because he’s now responsible for another human. I have to see this for what it is.
My phone vibrates for the third time. I hold it up, using it as the excuse I need to roll off his lap.
Brooke: I was wondering if you’d like to meet for dinner. I can pack up something from the cafeteria and we could meet in the park.
Blake taps my shoulder. “Is that the same lady as before?”
I momentarily panic and try to remember what I told him when he caught her texting me last time. This is exactly why I hate lying to people. In my experience, secrets never stay secrets for long. Someone always makes a mistake. In this case, I hope it won’t be me.
I hesitate long enough that he answers his own question. “She’s a client, right?”
I nod.
He shuffles off the couch, then leans down, caging me against the backrest with his arms. “As long as you aren’t accepting dinner invitations from male clients.”
He stares at me long and hard as if to punctuate his point.
I raise my eyebrows at his possessiveness. Then I grin and shake my head.
“Good. Because the only man I want you having dinner with is me.”
The intensity of his stare makes me wonder if he wants more. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and right now, his are likely revealing much more than he wants me to know.
He thumbs to the back, breaking the moment. “I should check on Maisy.”