‘You’re a cutie. Oh yes, you are.’
‘Hey, I want to hold her too,’ my sister Kimberly protested. ‘You’ve got her the whole weekend.’
‘Girls,’ Gran said. ‘Stop bickering.’
I kissed Rose’s head before handing her to my sister. She was right—I could get cuddles all weekend long, so I could be generous right now.
Kimberly immediately took Rose in her arms, keeping her close to her chest. Our cousin Travis and his wife were on vacation, and I’d volunteered to babysit. I was good with babies, toddlers, and teenagers. I loved all my cousins’ kids.
‘Do you want something to drink, Gran?’ I offered. ‘I’ve got coffee. Or something stronger?’
‘Coffee is good,’ Gran said.
‘So, how’s married life treating you?’ Kimberly asked our grandmother.
Our family was huge. We had six cousins, and everyone was engaged or married. When Gran tied the knot in June, we were all immensely happy for her. She’d been a widow for as long as I could remember, and it was endearing that she’d found a second soulmate.
‘It’s an adjustment. I’ve been on my own for decades, and now I’m learning to live with someone else.’
‘Gran, you sound like me,’ I said.
‘I can’t believe we’ve had so many weddings this summer,’ Kimberly added.
Our cousins Tyler and Declan surprised us when they announced they wanted a double wedding in July. They had both waited quite some time to get married, but all the pieces fell into place this summer.
I made three coffees—decaf for me—and returned to my dining room table. Rose had fallen asleep with her head on Kim’s shoulder. All my instincts craved to ask to hold her again.
Get real, Reese. You’ll have her all to yourself soon enough. Don’t be too greedy.
As I sat down, we each took our cup of coffee and clinked them together.
‘To more weddings in the Maxwell family,’ Gran exclaimed.
‘We don’t have that many left. Only Luke and Megan, and Kimberly.’ I looked at my sister, grinning and batting my eyelashes.
‘We haven’t set a date yet.’
‘Please tell me you’ll give me more of a heads-up than everyone else is doing lately.’
‘Definitely,’ Kimberly said.
‘I want us to plan everything in detail.’
We both glared at Gran. We’d had three months to organize her wedding. Our cousins had given us even more headaches—we’d only had one month to put everything together for theirs. None of them had specific expectations, though, so they went along with most of the things we suggested.
“What are your plans for the weekend?” Kimberly asked.
‘I need to finish up some spreadsheets,’ I told them. I had nothing going on. Usually I tried to set up a date, but ever since the guy I was seeing back in June turned out to be an ass, I’d decided to press Pause on dating. And here I’d thought he might be the one. Ha!
Gran frowned. ‘Darling, life’s too short to work weekends. Please trust me.’
‘It relaxes me. And maybe I’ll drop by The Happy Place too.” Once upon a time, the Maxwell family was known for owning a chain of bookstores. Our dad, uncle, and aunt sold it successfully. But Gran had insisted on keeping the first-ever store—The Happy Place. I was beyond grateful because, as the name indicated, it was my happy place. I’d spent a large chunk of my childhood there, and now I worked right above it in the hotel I was running with Kimberly and Travis. The Maxwell Hotel was doing spectacularly, and I couldn’t be prouder. We were opening a second one in Aspen and had lots to do. I loved keeping busy.
‘By the way, the hotel received an invitation for the annual De Monet charity event. Want to join me?’ I asked Kimberly. It was a local event for underprivileged children, and our family had been involved in it for years. Gran used to talk about the events growing up. They were black-tie and involved fancy dinners and sometimes even a weekend of activities.
‘Sure. When is it?’
‘Next weekend.’
She scrunched her nose. ‘I can’t. Drake and I plan to fly over to Aspen again.’
Drake also worked at the hotel, and the two of them were very hands-on with the Aspen location.
I waved her off. ‘That’s okay, I’ll go by myself. Or maybe I’ll rope someone else into joining me.’ I was good at that. ‘Let me just check what time it is.’
I looked at the email, scrolling to the end. They’d attached two lists, one with the details and one with the attendees. Of course, I clicked the wrong list. I went to close it as soon as it popped up on my screen, but then a familiar name made me freeze.
Malcolm Delaware.
It couldn’t be.
I swallowed hard, but the name I below nearly choked me.
Francisca Delaware.
No, no, no.
I took in a deep breath. I thought they’d moved away from Chicago, but the names weren’t coincidental. My ex-fiancé and my former best friend. I swallowed hard. What are they even doing here?
‘Reese?’ Kimberly asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I clicked on the wrong list.’ Was my voice shaky? I hoped not. I didn’t want Gran and Kimberly to notice something was off. ‘It’s at seven thirty in the evening.’
‘I’m sure someone will be able to join you.’
I looked up at her, confused for a second, before remembering what we’d been talking about.
‘Actually, I changed my mind. There’s no need. I’m representing Maxwell Hotels, and I know Travis is leaving next weekend, too, so I’ll go there on my own.’
The last thing I wanted was for any of my family to run into Malcolm. He’d caused enough headaches for me and my family. He was my problem to deal with.
Kimberly lifted a brow. Damn it. I’d changed my mind far too quickly. She’d figure out I was hiding something.
‘Stop by the house before you go, and I’ll feed you something good,” Gran said. “At those fancy events, they usually put out some crumbs and call it dinner.”
‘I’ll do that.’ I was grateful for the opportunity. I would need to soak in some family love before facing my ex.
Years ago, Malcolm and I were engaged. I bought this apartment right around that time. I had so many dreams about it, and about us. I thought we’d start a family here.
I’d even crossed one of my personal boundaries, because he’d asked me to. I agreed to do a spread in Vogue highlighting the wedding. The Maxwell name was a big deal in Chicago, though we rarely spoke with the press. I was generally a very private person, but I’d wanted to do it for Malcolm and make him happy.
Just before the wedding, I found out that he was sleeping with my best friend, Francesca. I felt an ache in my chest, just remembering the way they both betrayed me.
Shake it off, will you? It’s been years. Your family can’t see you like this.
After Gran and Kimberly left, I was restless. Rose fell asleep, so I put her in the mobile crib.
I went to the egg-shaped swing hanging from the ceiling. I liked to curl up in it with my Kindle and read for hours; it made me feel safe, like I was in a cocoon. I threw a fuzzy blanket over myself, even though I wasn’t cold, and settled into it.
I couldn’t believe I had to face Malcolm and Francesca. Though maybe it would do me good. As my therapist liked to say, ‘Sometimes we have to come face-to-face with our demons in order to put them behind us.’
But I’d come face-to-face with him several times since we broke up. After every encounter, I was in shambles. He’d come after my family and me repeatedly. Last time, he blackmailed me into giving an in-depth interview to the press. My cousin Declan threatened him and made sure no firm in Chicago hired him. Malcolm moved away after that. Was he back?
I couldn’t believe I’d have them together.
Maybe it would be just what I needed to put everything behind me.
Rose woke up at seven o’clock. I was going to have trouble putting her to sleep later, since she’d had such a healthy nap. To be honest, I still hadn’t mastered the art of them. I was trying my best to follow the instructions Travis and Bonnie had left me, but the naps still eluded me. I always messed up and let her sleep too long.
‘Come on, baby girl. I’ve got a delicious puree for you. Oh yeah, Aunt Reese is going to spoil you all weekend long. And we’re going to spend some quality girl time with your cousin as well.’
I was taking Paisley, my cousin Tate’s daughter, out and about tomorrow. Initially, I’d offered to take her baby sister as well, but I knew my limits. I hadn’t yet mastered the art of juggling two toddlers at the same time, but I was a fast learner.
My mind circled back to Malcolm and Francesca. Maybe I could bail.
But deep in my heart, I knew I couldn’t. The charity event itself was planned as a few separate activities overall, and I’d even helped organize one of them. I couldn’t let them down.
Besides, I was no chicken.
***
Dom
‘Mr. Waldorf, I have everything covered,’ Dora, my father’s caregiver, said.
‘Let me know if there’s an issue with his medication or anything else,’ I replied.
‘I will, but so far, we’re good. He’s in the living room. The chessboard is already prepared.’
These days, Dad could barely get around without help, but his mind was still as sharp as ever.
Dad still lived in the same house I grew up in—a historic home near Irving Park. It was like walking back in time. He’d kept everything as it was when Mom was here. Even the outside was painted the same blueish color with white windowsills and trim.
I’d tried to talk him into moving into a condo or a bungalow—something without stairs—but he insisted that he belonged here, so I didn’t argue. I went right into the living room.
‘Looking sharp, son.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Charity event.’
‘Always those charities, eh?’ Dad said. The board was right in front of him. ‘Come on. Give me your best.’
He turned the chess clock the second my ass hit the chair. That was Dad to a tee; he didn’t like to waste his time.
‘Now, don’t you dare let me win.’
‘Never,’ I said.
He looked at me suspiciously. I might have done so over the past few months, especially if he was having a hard day.
‘How’s the company?’ he asked.
Waldorf Fashion was my life’s work. We were a force to be reckoned with in the industry.
‘The last quarter of the year is always a busy time.’
‘Don’t forget to take a break now and again.’
‘I won’t.’
Dad usually didn’t give advice, but since my divorce, he’d slipped one or two words of wisdom in here and there.
‘Dad, you’re winning again,’ I exclaimed several moves later.
‘Yeah, because you’re distracted. Thinking about that ex-wife of yours?’
‘No,’ I said truthfully. ‘Just about the shit show that followed.’
‘Son, you’ll get over this. Now come on, give me a real game. I prepared for this all week.’
A pang of guilt rose in my chest. I was a lousy son. Sure, work kept me busy, but I could find time to drop by Dad’s house more than once a week. It was one of the only times he got human interaction, aside from Dora. Most of his friends were the same age and not as mobile as they used to be either.
‘When does your charity thing start?’
‘I have plenty of time.’
‘I know you. You’re trying to weasel your way out of it.’
I held up my hand in despair. ‘I dislike events as a rule. And the ones for charity even more. I prefer to simply write a check. Just the fact that they’re organizing a party for it means some of that money’s going to be swallowed up by the event itself.’
‘Yes, but being able to boast about the celebrity attendees will likely attract more people. They’ll pay good money to rub elbows with the likes of you.’
I laughed. ‘Right. It still doesn’t make me keen on going.’
‘It’ll do you good to get out. And checkmate. Want a drink? Some sage advice?’
‘Nah, you don’t need to commiserate with me.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, I clearly do. I just beat your ass. Third week in a row. Come on. I need you to bring your best game.’
‘Want to play another one?’ I asked.
‘No. One time’s the charm. It’s when all the adrenaline happens. The game is boring without it.’
We spoke about my week for another twenty minutes, until it was time for me to leave.
‘All right, then. I’ll go,’ I said.
‘See you next week, son.’
‘I’ll drop by before that,’ I replied.
‘No, no. I don’t want you coddling me. You’ve got enough on your plate running Waldorf Fashion.’
‘I’m good with time management, Dad. I just don’t like events.’
‘Son, make the best out of it.’
That was his motto in life. To his credit, he always made the best out of every situation. He could have been crippled by pain at Mom’s passing, but he wasn’t. He was housebound and yet still full of life. I had plenty to learn from my dad, and I was glad to have him as an example to look up to.
I’d started Waldorf Fashion fifteen years ago, and he and Mom cheered me on from the get-go. Obviously, neither of us expected it to take off the way it did. I’d worked hard, yes, but I also had luck.
As I got into the car, my driver looked in the mirror. ‘Straight to the event, sir? Do you want to drop by the office too? We could still swing by, although that wouldn’t leave you much time.’
I considered this for a moment. Headquarters was above the flagship store on the Miracle Mile, and traffic was a nightmare at this time of the day.
‘No. Let’s head straight to the event.’ Punctuality was my forte. I might not be a fan of charity events, but I’d agreed to attend, and I was going to do it properly. I never did anything half-assed.
We arrived thirty minutes later.
‘Good thing we didn’t drop by the office,’ my driver said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. ‘Do you need me to pick you up, sir?’
‘No, it’s going to be late.’
‘I know a good restaurant around here. I can eat dinner there while I wait for you.’
I considered this. I liked the convenience of having someone pick me up and drop me off at a whim, but I didn’t want to keep him overtime. ‘Let’s do the following. Have dinner at the restaurant. Text me when you’re ready. If I’m done, too, you can pick me up. If I have to stay longer, you can go home.” I liked to treat my employees with respect.
‘That’s great, boss. Let’s do that.’ He smiled in the rearview mirror.
I stepped out of the car, immediately thinking I should have brought a coat. It wasn’t very warm for the middle of September.
I took a good look at the building. I had to give it to the coordinators of this thing: they’d chosen a good venue. We’d had company events here, and they’d always run smoothly. Even so, I would have preferred to write a check rather than attend.
I stepped inside, heading straight to the young woman who stood next to the door with a list in her hands.
‘Dominic Waldorf,’ I said.
Her eyes widened. ‘Welcome, sir. I hope you have a great time tonight. You’re at table seven.’
‘Thank you.’
‘May I get you anything?’ she asked. ‘I can ask the servers to take extra care of you tonight… or I can do it myself.’ Her smile widened. ‘I’ll give you my number. In case you need anything later.”
This sort of attention had been happening ever since the press published that damn article: “Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelor Is Single Again.”
‘I can find my own way to my table. But thank you.”
Tonight is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.
