Continuing to walk away, I make my way upstairs and toward my bedroom. I gave up the master bedroom years ago, now I have one of the guest rooms and it suits me just fine, especially since it has a lock on the door.
TENNESSEE
“Cheers!” Bethie cries as our sweet teas arrive.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
She shakes her head. “Okay, spill, babe. I want to know all about your life.”
Deciding I can’t keep anything in, I tell her what I can. “I have a two-year-old son named Holden. It’s why I want to work at Astor Investments.”
“The childcare,” she whispers. “It’s the best around.”
Nodding, I look down at the table. Then, as if she can sense that I need something more, she reaches across the table, wrapping her hand around my wrist. Lifting my head, I look up into her eyes.
“No father?”
Shaking my head, I don’t tear up the way that I used to when people would ask me. Instead, I smile. It’s fake as hell, but I learned a long time ago that you have to fake it sometimes in life, and that’s okay.
“Nope. Which is great for me, because I was able to move from Oklahoma after I finished classes without any issues.”
“Bright side.” She grins.
“Bright side.”
Our food arrives, and Bethie tells me about being single in the city. How she thought it was going to be a lot more exciting than it actually is, but that she wouldn’t trade living here or her job for anything in the world.
“Oh, Laurent. Stay away,” she says in the midst of her talking.
“Yeah, I got the impression he was kind of into himself,” I murmur.
She laughs softly. “He is more than into himself, but I guess you’re allowed to be when your father is the Landry Astor.”
“I thought he might be related to him, but I didn’t think…”
She snorts. “Yeah, he’s his oldest son. He has another one and a daughter. They don’t work for him though, only Laurent does. Sometimes they come in, and let me tell you what, second son is just as fine as the first and Landry himself. The daughter, stunning. All spoiled rich kids, but nice, they aren’t snotty like you’d expect.”
I don’t tell her that my mother was friends with Susan. I don’t want her to think that I’m like any of the Astor kids. I’m not. I’m far from spoiled, far from having any money or anything. My mom pulled this whole thing out of her hat and I’m a bit surprised actually that it really happened.
“I know you have your son, but I would really like to take you out, show you the nightlife?”
Shaking my head, I flick my eyes down to my food before I lift them up to meet hers. “I can’t. I don’t know anyone here and I’ve never left him with anyone aside from my mom. Even leaving him at the childcare center on Monday is giving me anxiety.”
“Really? Nobody?”
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and wrap it around the front of my throat. I could tell her why I don’t ever want him out of my sight, but it would make me sound neurotic.
I’m scared to death that someone will hurt him, that on top of the reoccurring nightmares that I’ve had of his father finding him and kidnapping him.
It’s all stupid really, his biological father doesn’t even know he exists, hell, I don’t even know the man’s first name. In fact, it’s been so long, my memory is so hazy from the drugs, I probably wouldn’t even recognize him if I saw him walking down the street.
“I just don’t go out. I’ve been so busy with him and with school, I haven’t dated since before he was born.”
Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I watch as her lips curve up into a grin. “Well, we’ll fix that. Some of the people in the office have teenagers, and I know they babysit all the time. Hopefully, you’ll meet them, get to know them, and trust one of their teens to watch your Holden. Then we can go out, get you a little somethin’-somethin’ and have some fun.”
I let out a snort. Somethin’-somethin’ didn’t interest me all that much before Holden was conceived. Now it just sounds kind of unappealing.
Except Mr. Astor.
My thighs tremble just thinking about him. His intense gaze, his strong forearms, one of which was covered in colorful ink. That was something surprising and unexpected about him. I found it hard to stop staring. His longer beard and short hair. I don’t know how a man his age looks as good as he does, but boy does he ever.
I honestly don’t know how I’m going to work for him, seeing him day in and day out, being his assistant, being at his beck and call. I don’t know how I’m going to do it and not swoon over him all freaking day long. Maybe I’ll luck out and he’ll be a total asshole to me.
Though a man that has the benefits for his employees that he does and the childcare in place for them too, he can’t be a dick like that, it’s impossible. Thank goodness he’s married, off-limits, and thank goodness I’m not looking for anything at all. I’ll swoon from afar and nothing more.
Chapter Five
LANDRY
I spend the majority of my weekend working, locked in my bedroom, alone. Sunday evening rolls around and I let out a groan as I look at the clock. Susan will no doubt tell our children about the divorce, and I’m sure this is going to be uncomfortable, but it’s long past due.
Decades long past due.
After showering and dressing, I open my bedroom door, locking it behind me. I don’t have very many personal things in there and I hope that Susan wouldn’t bother them, but she’s pretty angry with me. If something for work gets destroyed, like my laptop, I’ll be fucking pissed.
I make my way downstairs, hearing the voices of my children as I approach. “Mother is drunk, more than usual,” Lucinda murmurs.
Her voice carries through the formal living room and up to my ears. I curse to myself, knowing that this will be a nightmare of an evening, but I’ve spent far too long avoiding it, avoiding everything. They are all adults now, they should be able to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done.
“Dad,” Lawrence calls out.
Lifting my head, I turn the corner, plastering a fake smile on my lips. He catches it, immediately. Though Laurent and I are the ones who work together, Lawrence and I are the closest. Perhaps because he is more like I am in personality. He is even-tempered, calm, and easygoing, but has a passion for what he loves.
“I’ve upset your mother,” I admit.
Their heads all turn to face me, Lawrence shakes his head once, looking down at his shoes, as if he already knows what I’m about to say.
“Yes, yes he has,” Susan screeches from the study.
I watch as she sways toward us, stumbling on her too-high heels. My body automatically moves to stabilize her. Taking a few steps in her direction, I wrap my fingers around her elbow and guide her into the formal living room and toward the sofa.
Susan jerks her arm away from me with a snarl. “You,” she says, pointing her finger toward me. “You and your bullshit,” she retorts.
I’m not doing this, not now, not ever, and especially not in front of my children. There is no need for it. This cannot come as a surprise to her. This cannot be a shock at all. What this is, is her being petty because she did not deliver the paperwork to me first. She thinks that I have the upper hand, and that is never allowed when it comes to Susan Astor.