I GRIP THE RECEIVER tightly against my ear, hearing my knuckles crack from the exertion. “What do you mean Harper hasn’t been picked up?”
“Mr. Hawthorne, as I already stated, your wife has yet to pick up Harper from our mother’s day out program. We’ve attempted calling both numbers in the system, but this is the first time I’ve been able to get ahold of anyone.” The snarky tone of the woman’s voice grates on my nerves as I try to make sense of what’s going on. “Someone must pick Harper up immediately or we will be forced to call Child Protective Services. We will be left with no choice but to report this sort of negligence.”
“I’m on my way now…” I pick up my keys and begin to head out the door. “And ma’am, if you ever threaten me again, I’ll personally ensure you never see the inside of a childcare facility for the rest of your damned life.” A huff of outrage escapes the woman, but I continue. “Seeing as how this is the first time we’ve received a call like this, threatening with CPS involvement for what may be tantamount to mere miscommunication is absolutely ridiculous.” Seething with anger, I end the call before she has an opportunity to respond. Nobody comes between me and my child. Nobody.
I get into my blacked-out Range Rover, slamming the door behind me. How dare this woman even insinuate that CPS needs to get involved. Over the past six months, Harper has been timely picked up and not one complaint has been issued.
Sure, it probably wasn’t smart to threaten the person who currently holds my child in her care, but she definitely knows who I am and knows I have the power to make that threat a reality.
I dial Heather’s number again as I speed my way down the road. No answer. Where in the hell is she? I try and recall if she told me to pick up Harper, but nothing comes to mind. Heather had been acting distant lately—more than usual—but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to ask what the hell was wrong.
It’s no big secret I hadn’t married out of love. Heather was one of many women I kept on constant rotation.
I know, I know… what a manwhore. But if you grew up like me, seeing the example my parents set, a relationship would be the last thing on your radar too. For fuck’s sake, they made Peg and Al Bundy look like Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver.
After a couple of months of ‘dating’ Heather, we found out she was pregnant. Not wanting my child to grow up in a broken home, I did what I thought was right and asked Heather to marry me. She initially jumped at the idea of marriage and a family, so I was extremely surprised when I found a pamphlet on abortion laying on her nightstand. When I confronted her, she said she was ready for marriage but wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother, reasoning that she had to keep her ‘trophy wife’ figure.
I roll my eyes at the memory of it all. The only reason I was marrying her was for our child and she was going to get rid of it?
I was upfront and honest with Heather, telling her that I would only marry her if she was keeping the baby; otherwise, there would be no point in staying with her. Now before you get all up in arms about it being her body, her choice—the decision of whether or not I married her was never intended as extortion or bribery, it was just the mere truth of the situation. She was a hot fuck turned baby momma, not the love of my life, and marriage would only come into the equation if my child were involved.
I may be many things, but a deadbeat father would never be one of them.
Heather quickly changed her tune and developed a sudden case of baby fever. Not seeing it for what it was—the first red flag—I foolishly believed her change of heart, refusing to acknowledge what truly lay beneath it all.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m at St. Albert’s ready to see my little girl and get her the fuck out of there. Approaching the main office, I see that Harper is being held by an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight knot.
“Mr. Hawthorne, so good of you to make it.” Ignoring the sarcasm, I take Harper from the woman’s arms. “I’m Mrs. Morgan, we spoke on the phone.” She pats Harper on the head and continues with her mock concern. “We were unable to locate Mrs. Hawthorne. We do hope everything is okay.”
“Can’t kill the Devil,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I was just saying I’m sure she’s fine. It was probably a mix up in Harper’s schedule.” I move to pick up Harper’s bag and notice an envelope sitting on top of the baby gear. “Was this envelope here before drop off this morning?”
The shrew turns back around, a fake smile plastered across her face. “Why, yes. I do believe so. Your wife must have left it in there by accident.” The woman nervously fidgets with her wire-rimmed glasses before continuing. “We didn’t open it of course. It is addressed to you, after all.”
Didn’t open it, my ass. I’m sure she’s already read it and it’s made its way around the facility. Shaking my head, I turn around without a second glance and head back to the SUV, ready for this day to be over.
Back at the house, I put Harper down for her nap and make my way to the study, dreading whatever lies inside of the mysterious envelope. Multiple possibilities assault my mind as to what it could be, but in the back of my mind I already know.
She’s left us…. Well good riddance, she could go to Hell for all I care.
A pang of guilt hits me full force as I have these thoughts. No matter how shitty of a mother she is, Harper still deserves to have her in her life, even if it is in the smallest capacity.
I pour myself a tumbler of Macallan and sit at the large mahogany desk anchoring the room. With a deep sigh, I pick up the large manila envelope and unfold the flap, dumping out its contents.
The first thing I see is a letter in Heather’s handwriting, attached to it is a petition for divorce and relinquishment of custody. From the looks of the documents, she must have been planning this for a while. Enough time to hire an attorney and get our assets all divvied up and outlined.
I start with Heather’s letter, in it she shares how she’d come to the conclusion that being a wife and mother wasn’t what she’d really wanted out of life but that she wished me and our one-year-old the best of luck.
Really, Heather? I’m sure a one-year-old child prefers half-hearted well wishes to the actual presence of her own mother.
Finally getting to the divorce papers, I see she has overstepped the boundaries of our prenup. I already see what a huge clusterfuck of a battle this is going to be. I hope she doesn’t think she’s getting a dime. After all, she’s the one who is walking out on our family.
Shaking my head free of the fog it’s in, I start to make plans for Harper. For her sake, someone needs to have their act together in this relationship. I pick up my phone and dial my sister’s number.
Ashley picks up on the third ring. “Hey big bro. To what do I owe this honor? You never call me during the week.”
“Well.” I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. “My life has taken an unexpected turn…”
I fill her in on the details of today’s events, ending with a plea for help. Ashley agrees to come and stay with us for a month until I’m able to set up a permanent nanny situation because there is no way in hell I’m taking Harper back to St. Albert’s after today.
“I’ll get the jet out to you tomorrow morning. My assistant will email you the specifics once everything is confirmed.”
I let out a big sigh of relief, taking a grateful sip of amber liquid. Maybe, just maybe, Harper and I can come out of this unscathed.
One month later
I find myself sitting at the conference room table with Ren, Aiden, Titus, and Hudson, my childhood friends and co-founders of WRATH, our private security company. We all met in prep school, with the exception of Aiden—Ren’s older brother—who ended up joining our band of merry men after his tour in Afghanistan.
A little over three years ago, we were all off doing our own thing—Ren was a tech genius by day and notorious womanizer by night; Titus a private investigator up in the Hamptons, getting the lowdown on cheating husbands for their wives; Hudson, an accountant with his own private firm here in Dallas; and last but not least, Aiden, fresh out of the NAVY trying to figure out where he was going next.
As for me, I’d just finished my Master’s in Business and was ready to make a name for myself, independent of my family drama. I was full of ideas on what to do, but the one that stuck out the most was the one that included my honorary brothers. I’d pitched the idea of partnering up and forming a private security firm, utilizing all of our different skill sets. The men agreed, and here we are, three years later and a nationally recognized name, serving the who’s who of our fine country.
The clock strikes five and we’ve just wrapped up our weekly case management meeting.
“It’s officially happy hour,” Titus announces while making his way to the bar.
Feeling the need to vent, I catch the guys up on the disaster that is my life. “Ashley flies back home on Sunday, and I have yet to find a full-time nanny for Harper,” I huff out while kicking my feet up on the table and throwing my head back on the chair.
“Can’t your sister move here permanently?” Ren asks.
“No. I asked her, and she shot me down immediately. Can’t say that I blame her. I would rather live in sunny Palm Beach than here in Dallas too. So many horrible memories for her here. I’m surprised she’s even stayed this long.”
“She’s your sister. Of course she’d come help you when you needed her. But if you need a nanny, I’m sure Isabella would help through the summer. She’s going off to college in the fall, but it would give you enough time to secure a permanent live-in nanny for Harper until then,” Aiden offers as he pats me on the shoulder in sympathy.
These guys. I’m once again reminded of how true and loyal our brotherhood runs.
“Wait, doesn’t Bella watch the twins after school? Matt and Max are more than a full-time job. I know this from personal experience.” Ren laughs out loud as I remember the last prank they pulled at Harper’s baptism brunch. Those boys managed to get into the kitchen and pour an entire container of salt into the chocolate fondue.
“To Bella’s defense, she wasn’t on watch duty, I was,” Aiden sheepishly admits. “Plus, it’s temporary. It’s just until William finds a more permanent solution and seeing how it’s Friday, I don’t think he’ll be able to find a better substitute nanny.”
“Thanks, Aiden. I really appreciate the help. If it’s okay with you, have Bella stop by the house tomorrow morning so she gets a chance to meet with Ashley and go over Harper’s schedule.” Breathing a sigh of relief, I start to relax a little.
“Of course. Any word on the baby momma front?” Aiden asks.
“Yeeeesss. Do share!” Titus bellows from the bar across the room. “Last we all heard she was in New York trying to bag herself a younger boy toy!”
“God. I hadn’t heard that one yet, but I wouldn’t put it past her.” I roll my eyes and sigh. “Honestly, marrying her was a mistake. I just didn’t want Harper growing up in a broken home. So much for that.”
Titus slams his whiskey glass onto the table. “Forget her ass. There are plenty of hot fish in the sea. That broad has no clue how good she had it. Just mark my words, she’ll come crawling back to you the moment her dumbass realizes it.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll gladly remind her where she can shove it. I wouldn’t keep her out of Harper’s life, but she can’t just come in and out of our lives whenever she pleases. That isn’t healthy for Harper.” I try to stay calm but this conversation needs a change of subject, pronto.
If I keep dwelling on that woman I’m liable to lose it and show up to the house piss drunk. I’m too old for that mess. Honestly, having to take care of a screaming baby while having a major hangover is not appealing. Been there, done that, not doing it again.
