Authors: Everly Drummond
“Chloe likes you well enough,” Avery replied. “She’s still just a little shocked that you’re Parker’s father.”
“You told her?” Brody gasped. “What did she say? She must think I’m a total douche bag.”
“I didn’t tell her, she guessed. It’s not that difficult to figure out. The two of you look a lot alike. And why would she think you’re a douche bag? If anything, she’s mad at me for not telling her the truth about who Parker’s real father is.”
Brody was going to ask Avery what she’d meant by lying to her sister, but decided to leave it for another time. Right now there were more pressing matters at hand. Wordlessly, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced a small white envelope, setting it on the table between them.
Looking curiously from the envelope to Brody, Avery asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s a birthday present for Parker.”
“But you already gave him a gift.” She motioned to the plush, green frog sitting on top of the stack of birthday presents.
Now it was Brody’s turn to be nervous. “Just open it, would you?”
Avery picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hand, examining it. When she was satisfied that it gave no clues as to its contents, she slide the tip of her finger under the lip of the envelope and tore it open. Inside was a folded slip of paper. She tossed the discarded envelope onto the table and carefully unfolded the rectangular piece of paper. Printed across the front in bold letters were the words:
Pay to the Order of Avery Carmichael, Twenty-five Thousand Dollars.
“Is this some sort of twister joke,” she demanded, staring at the cheque in utter disbelief.
“No, it’s not joke,” Brody assured her.
Avery sat there motionless, fixated on the piece of paper in her hand and trying to interpret its meaning. Did Brody think she was some sort of charity case that needed handouts? Because if so, he was poorly mistaken. Whatever his reasoning, A
very wanted no part of it. She’d done fine on her own up until now, and she’d already told Brody as much. Without giving it a second thought, Avery handed Brody the cheque. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.”
“What do you mean you can’t accept it? Damn right you can. And you will.” The agitation on his face was clearly visible.
“No, I can’t. And how on earth can you even afford this? You’re only…” Avery stopped herself before she actually said the words out loud, but it was too late. The look on Brody’s face told her that she didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand her meaning.
“I’m only what, Avery, a lowly tattoo artist? Do you think that because I work in a tattoo parlor I can’t afford to contribute to my son’s upbringing?”
The seriousness of Brody’s tone caught Avery off guard and she faltered with her response. “No, I…” she began, but her shoulders went slack as she quickly tried to think of a plausible excuse for her inappropriate comment. “I never meant you any disrespect. Being an artist is a very reputable profession.”
“Just like I never meant anything by giving you that money,” Brody countered. “I thought that you could use it to start an RESP for Parker, or maybe use it to pay for private school.”
The cheque weighed heavy in her hands. Did she crumple it up and throw it in the trash, or did she keep it and use it towards Parker’s education? How could she cash it in good conscience knowing that this money was probably every last cent of his life savings?
Brody could almost sense what Avery was about to say, and so he interjected. “You don’t have to cash it right away. Hold onto it for a while and think about it. I did some research and I know that a decent private school doesn’t come without a hefty price tag. I only want what’s best for Parker.”
“We both do, but this is too much money.”
“Please promise that you’ll at least sleep on it.”
Avery hesitated and examined the cheque once more for good measure. Having researched them herself, she was equally familiar with the cost of private schools. Would taking the money be such a bad thing? Brody was, after all, Parker’s father. After a brief internal struggle, she finally conceded. “Fine, but I’m not promising that I’ll cash it.”
“Fair enough.” Brody breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that becoming a permanent part of Parker’s life was going to take a lot of time and work, but this was a step in the right direction. Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, he lunged right into his next question, the one that had been eating at him all day. “Have dinner with me?”
This time she didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Somewhat surprised by her response, he blurted out, “Why not?”
“I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to confuse Parker.”
“You’ll share your bed with me but you won’t have dinner with me? And how would his parents going on a date confuse him? He’s only five years old.”
Avery glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure that they hadn’t been overheard. Sitting in the middle of Chuck E. Cheese was not the best place to discuss sharing a bed. Luckily, Chloe and Scott chose that moment to return to the table. Avery lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned into Brody. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Talk about what?” Chloe asked as she took her seat.
“Nothing,” Avery replied sharply, earning her a disapproving scowl from Brody.
Brody stood up from the table and fished his keys from his jeans pocket. “I should get going.”
“So soon?” Chloe asked. “I was going to invite you to join us for drinks at my place.”
“Thanks. I’d love to, but I have to get to work.”
“Maybe next time then.”
“It’s a date.” Brody stared at Avery as he emphasized the last word, and after saying his goodbyes to Scott, Chloe, and the twins, he knelt down so that he came eye to eye with Parker. The urge to hug his son was almost unbearable, but it was too soon for that. He didn’t want to frighten Parker or cause a scene in front of Avery’s family, so instead, he settled for a simple farewell. “Later, buddy. I’ll see you again soon.”
Brody stood up and brushed the dirt of his knees, but as he turned to leave, two little arms hugged his leg, holding him tightly.
“Bye Bwoodie.”
The sound of Parker’s boy-ish voice and the feeling of having his son hug him for the first time caused tears to prickle the back of his eyes. At risk of crying in front of Avery and everyone else sitting at the table, Brody leaned over and kissed the top of Parker’s head then quickly made his exit.
“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Chloe declared.
“What?” Avery asked absentmindedly as she watched Brody disappear out of sight, secretly hoping that he’d turn around and come back.
“You didn’t see it? It took every ounce of that man’s strength not to burst into tears right here in the middle of the restaurant.”
“Yeah right,” Avery scoffed. “He wasn’t crying.”
“Wasn’t he?”
When the last of the soda had been drank and the last present unwrapped, Avery retrieved her purse from the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you outside as soon as I can find the waitress and pay the bill.”
“Scott, you take the bags and I’ll take the kids,” Chloe ordered. The twins grumbled their complaints and dragged their feet as Chloe led them unwillingly out of the restaurant.
Avery’s frustration deepened when the waitress by-passed her for the fourth time, ignoring all attempts to get her attention. When the waitress passed by for a fifth time, Avery lost what little patience remained and followed her to the opposite side of the dining room.
“Excuse me,” she huffed as the girl stared at the computer screen and continued to ignore her. “I’d like to pay my bill now.”
Turning around, the waitress acknowledged Avery for the first time. “What bill?”
Avery handed her the plastic folder that contained a receipt and her credit card, “My dinner bill.”
The waitress opened the black plastic folder and looked at the slip of paper, confused. “The gentleman already paid this bill on his way out.”
“Do you mean the man carrying all the presents?” Avery inquired, but she had a sinking feeling that Scott wasn’t the one to cough up the cash.
“No, the tall man wearing jeans and a t-shirt,” the hostess clarified.
“Of course he did. Thank you.” Avery took her credit card from the folder and placed it back into her wallet. She quickly maneuvered across the dining room and stepped outside into the pouring rain, cursing Brody and his charitable nature.
He has
got
to stop doing this!
Chapter 7
Brody's hands moved swiftly across the keyboard, the click of the keys rebounding loudly off the walls in the small office as he pounded down on them. What right did Veronica have to tell his mother about Parker? None! But she had, and now he was left to clean up her mess. Of course he would've told his family about Parker, but he intended to do it on his terms and when he was ready, not at her leisure. Veronica knew she could use this as leverage against him in the divorce, and when it boiled down to it, she was a greedy, vindictive bitch at heart.
He groaned heavily into the phone pressed against his ear and held firmly in place by his shoulder. "Of course I was going to tell you about him."
"When, Brody? When we were you going to tell me that I have a grandson, and how long have you known about him? Do you even know if he's yours?” Using the tip of her index finger, Cynthia Duncan rubbed at the pain in her temple and sighed in frustration. “Maybe Veronica was right when she suggested you get a paternity test. It’s the only way you’ll know for sure if the boy is yours.”
Brody pounded harder against the black, plastic keys of his laptop. This was the third time his mother had asked him the exact same question in the span of five minutes. Maybe telling Veronica that he had a son wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. He should’ve known that she’d use it against him, but for her to go behind his back and tell his mother about Parker was low, even for her. Brody’s head sank in defeat and he repeated himself for the second time. “I’m certain that Parker is my son. There’s no doubt about it. The boy looks exactly like me.”
“Listen, Brody,” Cynthia murmured in the motherly tone she normally reserved for scraped knees, broken prom dates, and heartbreak, “I know how badly you want to have a family, and I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Veronica, but please be careful. If you tell me that Parker is your son, I believe you, but you seem to forget how miserable you were when you never heard back from that girl. I just don’t want to see you hurt again. And, well, there’s a child involved now. Just promise me that you’ll be careful for your sake, and his.”
“Mom, this isn’t about Avery,” Brody lied. “Parker
is
my son and I have every intention of being the father he deserves.”
When Cynthia spoke, her voice beamed with pride. “You’re going to make one hell of a father to that little boy.”
Shocked by his mother’s words and her willingness to accept Parker as his son, Brody leaned back in his chair and smiled quietly to himself. “Thanks, mom, but I have a feeling that his grandma is going to give me a run for my money.”
“Grandma,” Cynthia whispered, as if the word was music to her ears. She was already a grandma four times over by Brody’s siblings, but the thought of having another grandchild thrilled her.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, and sat up straighter in the chair, staring intently at the email he’d rewritten a hundred times before finally settling on something simple and to the point. After saying a brief goodbye, Brody hung up the phone. He sat there for several more minutes watching the cursor blinked rapidly over the send button.
What’s the worst that could happen
? he thought to himself, and nervously clicked the mouse. A lump formed in his throat as the email vanished from his screen.
•••••
If it wasn’t for the fact that Avery had just spent $30 dollars on a manicure, her nails would be chewed down to the quick by now, so instead of ruining a perfectly good manicure, she fidgeted mindlessly with a ballpoint pen as she reread the email for a fourth time.
From: Brody Duncan [email protected]
To: Avery Carmichael [email protected]
Subject: Dinner Tonight
Avery,
You, me, and a bottle of merlot. Tonight 7pm sharp!
See you soon!
Brody
P.S. Wear something nice.
“Pompous ass,” she cursed under her breath. Not only did Brody
tell
her they were having dinner tonight, but he was dictating what she was to wear. Who in the hell did he think he was? Furious, she tossed the pen aside and began typing her response.
From: Avery Carmichael [email protected]
To
: Brody Duncan [email protected]
Subject:
Re: Dinner Tonight
Dear Brody,
Sorry, but I am unable to find a babysitter on such short notice. Even if I could find a sitter, my answer would still be no. I don’t appreciate being told what to do. If you’d asked me, I might have said yes.
Avery
A chime sounded, indicating that he had unread mail in his inbox. Anxiously, Brody opened the email and began to read. He couldn’t help but laugh. After all these years, Avery was still as feisty and stubborn as ever.
From: Brody Duncan [email protected]
To: Avery Carmichael [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Dinner Tonight
Avery,
It was not my intention to offend you, but you and I both know that unless I take drastic measures, you’ll never agree to have dinner with me. It’s not like I’m asking you to give me a kidney, I only want to have dinner. No talk of Parker, no talk of us, just two old friends catching up.
As for a babysitter, I’m sure you can figure out something. If I recall correctly, I think you said something about you and Parker having dinner at your sister’s house every night. I may be mistaken, but I don’t think Chloe will mind your absence.
Brody
P.S. I’ll see you at 7! ;)
“Pompous ass,” she cursed again, and slammed the laptop shut. Brody would be in for a rude awakening when he showed up at her door only to discover that she wasn’t there. Avery pushed back from the desk, almost causing her chair to topple over backwards, and stormed off in the direction of the shower, still furious that he would assume she’d drop everything to have dinner with him. And what made him so certain that Chloe would be willing to watch Parker on such short notice? Of course she would, but he didn’t know that.
The heat from the shower did little to loosen her muscles or calm her nerves. She’d told Brody no, that she was unable to find a babysitter, but she suspected that he’d be there at seven o’clock sharp regardless of what excuse she gave him.
Stepping out of the shower, she cinched the towel around her body and crossed the bathroom floor, marring the tile with tiny, wet footprints. Holding the towel in place with one hand, she used the other to wipe away the steam that had accumulated on the mirror. The black rings under her eyes reminded her of the rings of a tree. Where a tree’s rings represented its age, the black rings under her eyes represented the number of sleepless nights she’d endured the past week. Between the lingering cough that woke Parker up most nights and several overdue assignments that should’ve been finished days ago, sleep was a luxury that she couldn’t afford.
Avery stood on her tip toes and leaned into the mirror, appraising herself. The black marks under her eyes could easily be fixed with a little makeup, and even though her hair currently resembled a rat’s nest, a few curls and a touch of hairspray would have it looking presentable. The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea of having dinner with Brody became. A glass of wine, a nice meal, good conversation, and...
No
, she stopped herself mid-thought.
It was a onetime thing.
Heading down that road with Brody would only complicate things even more, wouldn’t it? Determined not to dwell on it, she returned to the living room and retrieved her phone from the desk. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen as she typed a text to her sister.
Are you busy tonight?
A minute later her phone beeped in response.
No, why?
Avery briefly considered her options. She could tell Chloe that Brody had invited her to dinner, but that would only lead to a million questions, or she could tell her that she was feeling under the weather and ask her to watch Parker for the night. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Avery decided on the latter.
I think I’m coming down with
Parker’s cold. Can you watch him tonight and I’ll pick him up first thing in the morning?
It took only a minute for Chloe to respond.
Cold? Please, you were perfectly healthy this morning. If you want me to babysit Parker all you have to do is ask. Lame excuse not needed.
Busted!
Fine! I’m having dinner with Brody. Are you happy now?
“Jesus, what is she, some sort of human lie detector?” Avery laughed, and tossed her phone on the desk. But before she could make it out of the living room it beeped one final time.
I want all the juicy details. Oh, and tell Brody I said hi!
The clock on the nightstand glared brightly in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. It was already six-thirty. She’d waxed, scrubbed, shaved, and primped every inch of her body—not that anyone would be seeing it—and the only thing left to do was chose an outfit. Standing in front of her closet, Avery reached up and pulled the small black bag from the shelf. After her last encounter with Brody, she’d purchased a matching set of red satin bra and panties, something that was a far cry from the granny panties and practical bras that she normally wore. And as much as she tried to convince herself that pursuing something with Brody was a bad idea, there was no doubt that he was at the forefront of her mind when she’d purchased the scanty garments.
Turning her attention back to the closet, she scanned the clothing that hung from the rack.
Wear something nice.
Brody’s words kept repeating over and over in her mind like a broken record. Without having occasion to dress up, she had turned into a classic frump girl. For the past five years she’d lived in jeans, sweatpants, sweaters, and t-shirts. As the panic began to set in, Avery frantically searched the closet, tossing aside anything made from denim or cotton, until at last she stumbled across a dry cleaning bag hanging at the very back of her closet. She wasn’t sure what Brody’s definition of “nice” entailed, but it would have to do.
Avery ripped the thin, plastic bag that
sheathed the dress. Having wore it only once for a dinner at the Dean’s residence, she’d almost forgotten about it. Even though it had been sitting in her closet untouched for over two years, the cheap plastic bag that covered it had prevented it from smelling like moth balls.
She glanced over at the clock.
6:45, damn!
As the minutes ticked away, Avery rushed to get dressed, stopping only for a second to luxuriate in the feel of the cool satin against her bare skin and how it felt so different from the rough touch of Brody’s hands.
Don’t go there,
she mentally scolded herself, and turned her attention to the dress lying on the bed.
With only minutes to spare, Avery quickly finished dressing and hurried to the bathroom to put the final touches on her hair. Locks of golden blond curls cascaded down her back and shoulders. She reached up and, taking the curls between her fingers, swiftly and expertly pinned them up into a knot at the nape of her neck. Just as the last curl was pinned into place, the sound of knocking reverberated throughout the apartment, sending shivers of anticipation up her spine.