“There.” She pulled back, her hands on my shoulders. “Come to me for hugs. Don’t go searching for human contact from inappropriate sources.”
“I don’t think I was searching for it,” I protested. I hadn’t protested Elliot touching me, though. Not even a little bit.
“You allowed it because you needed something. Not Elliot—you don’t need that kind of complication in your life.” She went back to Jeffrey’s smoothie, smashing the berries into vanilla yogurt. “You think I don’t want to tell Jeffrey to piss off? But everything’s simpler if I come in, do my job, go home, and forget about it. I like simple.”
Raymond tugged on the cuff of his tweed sports jacket. “Personally, I’m into messy—but not the kind of messy that comes from getting overly involved with the man signing my check.”
He gave me a look that was long and pointed. Then, his expression softened so much I had to wonder if I was giving off the wounded creature vibe Liam told me I sometimes had.
Without warning, he lunged at me, giving me a hug more gentle than Davida’s. Raymond smelled like Christmas morning, all pine and cinnamon. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he let me.
The scene in this room was far from professional, but no one was watching. The assistants were the only ones who ever came in here, and we had our own code. Hugs weren’t outside the lines of acceptable, though it was fair to say this was the first time we’d ever indulged.
Davida looked up from her task. “Now, tell me, darling, you mentioned no one’s been with you for your appointments. Who’s going to be there for the birth?”
My lips pressed together, the panic I’d shoved aside since Liam admitted he was gone for good, threatening to rise.
“I’m doing it on my own,” I admitted, pulling myself away from Raymond’s delicious scent.
“No.” She put her hands on her hips. “All of this is foreign, but as the official daddy to the child, I can’t allow you to go through this by yourself. I’ll be there.”
Raymond groaned and folded over the counter. “I’m going to have to be there too, aren’t I?”
“You don’t have to, Ray,” I whispered.
Their offer was too big for me to speak at full volume. I’d been mentally preparing myself for going it alone. To have even one of them there was more than I could have ever asked for.
“No, no.” He pulled himself upright. “I don’t take my title of Daddy lightly. I’ll be there too, but I’m not looking. Strictly moral support.”
“I didn’t give you that title,” I reminded him.
He pressed his hand to his heart. “I’m a daddy now. I’ve got this.” Then he spun himself toward the door. “Anyway, duty calls. I’m out.”
When it was just Davida and me again, she picked up the envelope I’d tossed on the counter. I’d been in such a daze I’d forgotten I’d brought it in here with me.
“Oooh, this place is supposed to be posh.” She slid the gift card out and gaped at the amount. “Oh, Elliot Levy is far more generous than I assumed.”
“Me too.” I took the card from her, rubbing my thumb over the embossed logo.
“You don’t seem thrilled.”
“It’s a generous gift. It really is.” I huffed, frustrated I couldn’t be happy with what I’d been given. “It’s hard to get it up for spa treatments right now. I don’t really need a massage, and I sure as hell won’t have time to lie around and get beauty treatments after Baby Girl’s here.”
Davida shook her head slightly, obviously seeing my point.
I tossed the gift card down on the counter. “If he really wanted to get me something I could use, a gift card for Target would have had me singing his praise. Do you know how many diapers I’m going to need?”
She shook her head again, less subtly this time.
“I didn’t either, but I looked it up, and it’s staggering.” I sighed. “I—”
“Excuse me.”
I whirled around at the sound of Elliot’s voice coming from behind me. He was standing there, holding my iced coffee out to me.
“Elliot—”
He shoved the cup toward me. “You forgot this in my office. I thought you might want it.”
“Thank you. I do want it.”
I took it from him gingerly, trying to catch his eye. He allowed his gaze to graze mine once, then he nodded and walked away.
Davida broke the thick silence first. “Shit.”
I turned around to face her. “How much did he hear?”
“All of it, darling. Didn’t you see me shaking my head?”
I slapped my hand on my forehead. “I thought you were going along with what I was saying. You need a better signal.”
“I can’t do better than shaking my head aside from covering your mouth with my bloody hand.”
I fell down in a chair and moaned. “I’m such a prick. He made this nice gesture, and I can’t even appreciate it.”
“You’re in a right state, darling.” She shoved the lid on Jeffrey’s smoothie and walked over to me. “Elliot isn’t the kind to have tender feelings. I’m sure he’s already forgotten all about this.”
“Probably.” One could only hope.
My hopes were dashed by noon.
When I returned to my desk after lunch, there, sitting in the very center, was a small red envelope with a distinctive white bull’s-eye.
A knot in my throat, I opened it and nearly shrieked at the amount.
One thousand dollars.
Holy shit.
My hands trembled as I read the note.
Catherine,
Something useful to go along with the luxury.
The spa card doesn’t expire. Use it when you have the time, even if it’s three years from now.
Congratulations on your impending arrival. I should have said that sooner.
-Elliot
It was strange being this grateful to a man who drove me up the wall on a daily basis. He didn’t hire single women, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t know how to reconcile these warring feelings.
The sound of Elliot’s voice approaching instantly sent me into professional mode. I circled my desk, standing behind it with a practiced smile.
I needn’t have bothered. Elliot was conversing with a pair of men older than him by at least two decades in starched suits with serious, no-nonsense expressions. Elliot gestured toward his office, and the men swept in with Elliot right behind them, disappearing inside without a single glance my way and pulling the door closed.
Exactly as expected.
This was the Elliot I knew.
The world had tilted back on its axis, just as it should’ve been, and I breathed easier.
But that little red envelope glared at me from my desktop, telling me there was more to my boss than what was on his slick surface.
Glaring back at it, I whispered, “Go fuck yourself. You’re just a card. What do you know? You don’t even have a brain.”
Now that I’d told the inanimate object off—undoubtedly a new low for me—I sat down in my chair and turned on my computer, getting back to work.
Chapter Eight
Elliot