Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thaddeus
Nori’s red-painted lips moved, but I could barely keep up.
It wasn’t because she was rattling off a list of demands, but because the scent of Kiyah’s floral perfume, paired with the warmth that radiated off her, was spellbinding.
We were squeezed into the booth, and my leg occasionally brushed against hers because of the proximity.
I apologized, of course, not wanting her to think I was doing it purposely, but she didn’t mind.
She probably doesn’t notice because she’s so wrapped up in my son.
Every so often, my eyes would wander to Kiyah and Pete. They were smitten with each other. She softly sang nursery rhymes to him, and he grinned and patted her cheeks appreciatively like he would with my wife.
And now, with Grant out of the way, I can woo Kiyah without any interruptions.
According to the text messages I read, that asshole would be locked up in rehab for the next three months, and the forbidden couple would be divorcing.
Kiyah would be heartbroken, grieving the dissolution of her marriage, and what better person to comfort her than a man wallowing in grief from the unfortunate and tragic passing of his wife?
“Can it, Nori. We have to go,” Daisy suddenly mentioned as she waved down the server for the bill.
“Why are we leaving? I’m in the middle of my four-year property tax deduction program proposal,” Nori protested, nearly whining like a petulant child.
“We’re leaving because I need to swing by the office to put out a small fire, and he doesn’t care about your program proposal. I’m sure he already has an economist on his team—he doesn’t need another.”
“I have three,” I answered cordially.
“See there. He doesn’t need a fourth.”
“I guess I’d better be going, too,” Kiyah chimed in.
“Nonsense. You should stay. Mr. Branson hasn’t finished his meal, and it would be rude to leave early. This should cover it,” Daisy said, tossing four crisp $100.00 bills onto the table before dragging her wife and their designer handbags out of the booth.
“Did she truly have a work emergency, or am I that boring?” I joked, earning a sweet titter from Kiyah.
“Knowing Daisy, she probably did have a work emergency. I was shocked when I found out she agreed to a two-week honeymoon. She’s an absolute workhorse.”
“She’s quite intense; they both are. Have they always been like that?”
She snorted, “Since day one. Believe it or not, they’re a lot tamer now than when they were kids.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” I urged with a teasing smile.
“It was Thanksgiving Eve, the first year we were with the Bakers. I was three, Daisy was two, and Nori was one. Nori was sitting on the floor, minding her business and watching TV. Daisy thought it was a good idea to climb onto the back of the sofa and jump on top of Nori. She leaped through the air like a flying squirrel, and Nori rolled out of the way at the last minute.”
“Ouch,” I commented as I pictured the scene.
“Nori toddled off triumphantly while Daisy was left gasping for air like a fish out of water. It was a mess, and I was nervous around Daisy for a while. I was so paranoid that I kept checking over my shoulder when we’d watch TV.”
“Days like that make being a single child less painful.”
“No shit,” she replied before sipping her wine. I used that brief moment to study her profile.
I wonder if she’s aware of what she does to me. I wonder if she knows that every time she smiles at me, she’s pulling me in deeper, sucking me into a twisted abyss of obsession and wicked desires.
“How have you been since we ran into each other?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m taking it day by day, you know?”
I nodded and reached over to ruffle my son’s hair. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do. That’s what I’ve been doing since Anna’s passing.”
“Oh, my God. I feel horrible for not offering my condolences.”
I waved her off dispassionately. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Honestly, I prefer you didn’t. Every ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ reminds me of what I lost. I’d rather move on and focus on the future.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s easy to say but difficult to live by, if that makes sense, but a part of me started grieving Anna as soon as the doctors told me there was a near-zero percent chance she would recover after the hit and run.
I have no choice but to move forward. I need to be a father to my son and a leader to the people.
” My eyes strayed down to my son in her lap.
“Unfortunately, I feel that I’m faltering on the father side. ”
She narrowed her eyes curiously. “What would make you say that?”
“I’m stretched thin because of my campaign and responsibilities. I feel that I’m giving my son 10% and everyone else 90%.”
“My dad sometimes felt the same when he was close to burning out.”
“What did he do to keep his head above water?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Disclaimer: don’t take what I’m about to say as wise advice or model your life after my dad, but he’d hunker down and work his ass off until he had nothing left to give.
I remember times when he wasn’t as present.
We had many breakfasts and dinners without him, or he would sneak into our events in the last quarter or during the last heat.
” She laughed softly and continued. “There was this one time Dad took all of us kids to the movies to spend time with us and give my mom a break. We were thrilled, you know? We had our dad and those expensive-for-no-damn-reason snack packs, and as kids, that was all you could ask for.”
“I imagine the snack packs were purchased to keep your father’s sanity intact. Five children to a large popcorn bucket sounds like Hell on Earth.”
“There were seven of us.” I raised a brow. “Sorry, Nori and Ronan.”
I held back my scoff.
They’re just one big happy fucking family, aren’t they?
“There’s no need to apologize. I think it’s amazing how your two families have melded together. I’m a little jealous. I didn’t have that growing up, and because of some archaic feud amongst the bloodlines, it was just my father and me,” I said sarcastically.
“Let me guess, one sibling inherited this, that, and the third, and the other sibling felt slighted because their parents made it clear their entire life who their favorite child was, and that was the last straw,” she replied, equally sarcastic.
I smirked. “Tale as old as time. But back to you and your six siblings,” I urged.
“Right. Where was I?” she asked while absentmindedly smoothing my son’s hair down.
“Snack packs.”
“Oh, right. The lights had barely dimmed when we realized Dad passed out. We screwed with him for a few minutes, throwing popcorn and candy at him until the movie began. When the movie ended, he jolted out of his seat, turned to us, and said, ‘That was the best movie I’ve seen all year.’”
“Did you all call him out on his lie?”
She shook her head. “Nah. We knew how tired he was. The important thing to us was that he made the effort to be there. He may not have always been present, but he was there.”
“Is that the moral of the story—not present, but there?”
“The moral of the story is that children are more perceptive than you think and are capable of empathy and grace, even from a young age. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“But wouldn’t you argue that your ability to give grace and show your father empathy was because you had a support system?”
She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut as she contemplated her response.
“There’s truth to your statement. His absence was easier to manage when we had each other and our parents and grandparents.”
“Sadly, I only had my father, and I’m saying that very loosely, and now my son only has me. I’m afraid that history will repeat itself.”
“May I ask what happened to your mother and her side of the family?”
I chuckled lowly and confessed, “My mother was a cocktail waitress at a high-end lounge my father frequented. When I was born, he paid her a large sum of money with the agreement that she would disappear forever or risk being sued for the small fortune he’d given her.
My father spent the next eighteen years choosing business and pleasure over me.
He never wanted me; he just needed to leave his legacy behind to someone. ”
“Did you try to find your mother when you were older?”
“I did. She died of an overdose when I was two. She had spent her newfound wealth partying like there was no tomorrow.”
“I’m—”
“No condolences, Kiyah.” She stared at me blankly with those expressive brown eyes.
I could see the gears turning in her head as she attempted to find something soothing and comforting to say.
Human nature was amusing but in a dire way.
The pressure to be seen as good or kind, or to say the right things, was obscene if you asked me.
It’s a good thing I never subscribed to this ideology of people-pleasing.
It’s fun to pretend and watch how easily people like her grandmother and sisters fall for it.
I’ll have Kiyah eating out of my palms in no time.
She’s already looking at me like I’m one of those shivering puppies on an ASPCA commercial. How tragic.
“No condolences,” she finally repeated.
“Good. If you want to feel sorry for me, then you can feel sorry for my inability to secure proper childcare for my son.”
She raised a perfectly manicured brow in question. “How is that?”
“I’ve gone through nine nannies, and none seem to be good fits.”
“At nine, you should question if you’re the problem. Statistically speaking, there were probably some good ones in the bunch,” she insisted.
And there were, but they were dismissed because they weren’t you.
I forced a laugh out—one that would confirm “my guilt.”
“You might be onto something. Perhaps I was too picky; however, my son is all I have left, so his care is my top priority. My decisions to dismiss the nannies were based on Pete’s interaction with them.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed and prompted her to return my son to me. I smiled at the slight hesitation before she handed him over. I kissed his warm cheek before cradling him in the crook of my arm.
“Pete has been experiencing behavioral issues as of late.”
“What kind of behavioral issues?”
“He has these crying fits every once in a while, and most of the nannies experienced difficulties calming him down. Recently, I’ve had to leave campaign events to get him settled.”
“I get it,” she whispered, toying with the pendant around her neck.
“Grieving at his age is so confusing. It’s difficult to process that your loved one is there one day and the next day you’ll never see them again.
I had crying fits like that for a few years after my bio father’s death,” she confessed.
“And how did your parents manage?”
She shrugged lazily and stared at the half-eaten salad on her plate that had long since wilted. “They created a safe space to let me feel. I was never rushed to ‘get over it’ or made to feel guilty that I was still missing Rory despite the wonderful stepfather I had.”
“Do you notice that you speak about your father a lot?” I questioned.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Why do you think that is? Any quarrels with your mother?”
“No, my mother is great. It’s just….”
A classic case of daddy issues.
“I don’t know. It hurts more to let him down, I guess.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was given the same opportunities as my siblings, but I’d always been the screw-up. He took my mother and me in and gave us a life we never could’ve imagined, and I don’t know, I feel like I’m losing another father.”
I sighed dreamily.
Women with daddy issues are God’s gift to men. If they can’t appease their fathers, they’ll seek validation from any men willing to give it to them.
“What’s stopping you from changing?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, completely blindsided by my statement.
“You’re still young, Kiyah. It’s not too late to prove to your father that you’re not the family’s black sheep. I have an idea, and please, feel free to call me crazy, but why don’t you come work for me?”
Her eyes widened owlishly from my generous offer. “In what capacity?”
“I’m in desperate need of a live-in nanny and can use a few more hands on my campaign. I know you disdain politics, but you have the vision. You inspired me to change my campaign slogan, after all.”
She smiled gently. “And how is the new slogan polling?”
“Overwhelmingly positive. My campaign manager believes I have the election in the bag, but you know what they say about celebrating too early.”
“It’s not advisable. What position would I have?”
“One that has a fancy title without the heavy burden. I’m thinking—”
“Please don’t make me the hospitality manager responsible for setting up a drink station.”
I laughed genuinely, stirring Pete from his sleep. He eyed me cautiously, wondering if that was the first time he ever heard me laugh in earnest.
“I was thinking more along the lines of Entertainment Coordinator. You can plan what Pete and I do in our leisure time while on the road.”
“Sounds riveting.”
“Do you think you can handle it? It’s arguably the most crucial position on my campaign team,” I said, flashing her my politician smile.
“I don’t know if I’m qualified to plan a trip to the aquarium,” she said, drawling her words playfully.
“You’re considering my offer then?”
She looked away. “I don’t know. I know I need to do something with myself, but—”
I won’t let her refuse me!
“I’ll tell you what. How about you take a few days to think it over and give me a call?
” I said, climbing out of the booth with my son.
“I know being a nanny and an entertainment coordinator isn’t as glamorous as being a big shot attorney, but it’s important work, and your boss is amazing, if I say so myself. ”
I pulled out a business card and dropped it on the table.
“You’re a little full of yourself.”
I grinned. “I was referring to Pete.” I chuckled when her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Call me in 48 hours with your decision. Have a good evening, Kiyah.”
I left the restaurant feeling invigorated and accomplished because I had no doubt that I’d hear from Kiyah by the evening—tomorrow at the latest.
She’s an intelligent woman, but far too trusting.