Jealousy Page 6

  No.

  The coldness of the proposal brought her up short. She couldn’t do it. But Neil assured her that he would pay for everything, and they would share custody. Maybe they would even have a life together . . . ? They were certainly making a good start.

  Layla could admit now that she’d let herself be persuaded by the life he dangled in front of her, one she could snatch if she just said yes. So, she agreed to the deal, tentatively, and suddenly there was the document to sign, which gave up her rights to the eggs she donated. She remembered how tightly she’d gripped the pen, how the angel and devil on her shoulders screamed in both her ears. In the end, she listened to the devil and quickly scribbled her name to the pact.

  Neil paid for the extraction of her eggs and gave her an additional twenty thousand dollars.

  She had yet to touch a dime of it.

  “Well, here I am,” he said a bit impatiently. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “It’s no secret. You know I want to share custody of our son.” She said it in a rush. “That’s always been understood. I just haven’t felt lately ... that we’ve been communicating enough about Naomi and the baby.”

  He set down his champagne glass very deliberately on her counter and smiled at her. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I know. But the baby’s going to be here soon, and I don’t know any of your plans. I almost bought a crib the other day. I saw one in a thrift shop off Seventeenth.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Neil, that’s what’s wrong. You say things like that, but you have no plans for me and the baby.”

  “Well, technically, legally, he’s mine. You signed away your rights.”

  “I know. But he’s yours . . . and mine.” She swallowed some of the fizzing liquid in a big gulp. “I want to share him. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

  “It’s not unreasonable, it’s just that I paid you for your eggs. It was a business transaction.”

  “And I can give you the money back. I have it all.”

  “You signed a legal document.”

  “Yes. I know I did. I have the copy you gave me.” She glanced toward her bedroom. “I’m not trying to interfere with your plans for fatherhood. I just realized I can’t completely give up my child. I never really meant to.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have signed.”

  “I know ... I know. Believe me, I know. I think we’d be good parents together. There’s just no legal provision for me to be any part of his life as it stands now, and I’d really like to fix that.”

  “I know you’ve never been in business, Layla, but when a transaction takes place, a legal transaction, that’s a binding document.”

  She could feel the heat rise inside her. “That’s why I want to amend it. We started out as friends, and then things progressed to whatever we are now. I’d like to start over.”

  She drew a breath and waited, her pulse pounding in her ears. She was lying. She didn’t want to start over. She was sorry she’d ever connected with Neil. She’d learned very quickly that it was his way or the highway. The wonderful life he’d dangled in front of her was as real as smoke.

  But she wanted her child.

  When the moment stretched out as long as she could stand it, she said, “I can write you a check right now.”

  “Keep the money, Layla. I want you to have it.”

  “I’d rather have some rights to our son.”

  “You knew what I wanted from the beginning. I didn’t hide anything from you. You can have more children. You can use a surrogate, the same way we have. You’re young and healthy. From a good family.” He carefully rubbed his jaw, thinking over his words. “I’m just not sure you’re mother material for my son.”

  “Our son,” she corrected.

  “Not legally,” he reminded her.

  With that, he headed for the door, plucking his coat from the wooden rack, nearly toppling it over. He steadied the rack as Layla followed him.

  “I’m not giving up,” she said. She’d known this was going to happen. In the back of her mind, she’d known it.

  “Oh, Layla. Don’t turn this into a battle you can’t win. I have the means to go a long, long time in court. If you play nice, I’ll play nice and let you see him occasionally. But if you fight me, you get nothing. You understand?”

  He spoke gently, as if to a child, but she heard the implied threat.

  Layla’s insides were in turmoil. “I understand more than you know,” she bit out.

  He smiled and let himself out.

  Every once in a while, Layla had a psychic moment where everything aligned. Her own personal syzygy. With crystal clarity, she knew she was going to have her son back. How, when, and where was still a mystery, but it would happen. No matter what she had to do.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she hit the button for a number she’d added to her call list earlier, the lawyer she’d gone to see two weeks earlier, when she decided she was going to have her child no matter what it took.

  “Eddie,” she said, naming him after her great-grandmother Edwina. Neil could call him anything he wanted, but he was going to be Eddie to her.

  Chapter Five

  Kate leaned into her husband, spooning up against him as she listened to the rain pepper their bedroom windows. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, listening to his steady breathing stutter a little at the contact. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Mmm,” was his sleepy response.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to lower her anxiety, which had hit a full-blown rollick after meeting with his terrible sisters. Layla! Having a baby with a surrogate! It made her want to weep. Quickly, as she had from the moment she’d heard, she mentally wrapped that information in a box and tied it tightly and set it on a shelf. She might be able to look at it later, open the box and examine the terrible shock of it, dissipating its power. Maybe . . .

  She inadvertently tightened her hold, and Lyle shifted rather sharply, she thought. She eased up, fighting back her hurt. When she’d gotten home to him and Daphne, things had really deteriorated, not least of which was that Lyle was mad at her. Mad at her. Because she’d done as he and his father had requested and alerted Lucy and Layla to their plans? Kate had been speechless in the face of Lyle’s fury.

  “What did you do?” he demanded, fingers digging into her arm as he led her out of the family room and away from Daphne, into their master bedroom.

  “You knew ... you knew . . .” she babbled, too stunned to fight for herself.

  “We talked about it with Abbott, but nothing was decided!”

  This was patently untrue, but Kate didn’t argue with him directly. That never did any good, and she was upset anyway. Lyle lived in awe of his father. Couldn’t even call him anything but Abbott. Kate understood this and prided herself on being the liaison between the two men. “Abbott said he wanted to get started, step one being alerting your sisters,” she reminded him.

  “We were in discussions. That’s all!” He dropped her arm and stalked across the room to the window.

  Kate had revealed to Lyle that she’d told Lucy and Layla about the plans to close the store. She hadn’t mentioned anything about their discussion about Stonehenge. The sale of the lodge was for phase two, and Lyle would be even more livid when he learned she’d unfortunately let that cat out of the bag early. Well, Layla had pressed her on it and she’d tried to fob her off, but the conversation had rapidly grown out of her control and so the deed was done. But what of it? This way they were just one step closer to selling and dividing the Crissman assets. No harm done. It was what her husband wanted, so she wanted it, too. She’d painted herself as a neutral party to Layla and Lucy, but really, everyone would be better off if the family just sold everything. Lyle knew that, but then, he was smarter than his sisters, more business-minded than even Lucy, whose smarts were a little bit overrated.

  She’d almost cried out about Layla’s news but had st
opped herself at the last moment. When Lyle was in one of his moods, there was no room for Kate to appease him. She just had to wait it out, let him do his worst and stay silent while he heaped on the abuse. It was just his anxiety problem. No big deal. The one time she’d recommended meds to lessen the effects, he acted as if she were crazy. He didn’t think he had a serious problem, and maybe he didn’t. She just knew that when something happened to ratchet up his stress, he looked for her to bring it under control. And that was fine. She could do that. She could be everything to him because he was everything to her.

  Briefly, she thought of Daphne’s father, who’d bounced from one career idea to another, sucking up her hard-earned money along the way, never sticking to anything. When Lyle crossed her path—Lyle Abbott Crissman IV of Crissman & Wolfe, a store where she’d often shopped—she’d divorced Adam Lawrence and married the man of her dreams. That was seven years ago, and though Lyle’s sisters were both straight-up bitches, she’d learned the ways of dealing with Lyle’s father, who appreciated her business savvy and bemoaned the wasted lives of his two daughters, well, except for Lucy’s overly vaunted business skills, nothing like Kate’s own experience in the corporate world. It had been a shock when Abbott had hired Lucy for a job Kate was more qualified for. She’d ended up taking a job at April Academy because April had absolutely begged her to manage the school. She’d accepted the job, figuring it would only be for a short time, just until she and Lyle had their own child, and Kate would quit working and become a full-time mom. Things hadn’t worked out on her original timetable, and she’d had to adjust her thinking. It just sucked that Daphne had insisted that Evie come to April Academy and the two girls had worked on both sets of parents to that goal, and, of course, Lucy and John had caved. Lyle hadn’t seen how terrible it was, had suggested Kate “get over it.” She’d had to swallow back how upset she was and act like she was completely on board with Daphne and Evie’s plan, that she’d been about to propose the same plan, but the girls beat her to it. Very difficult. Sometimes she wanted to pull the covers up to her mouth and bite into them while she silently screamed.

  But ... she loved Lyle, and she was blessed by the fact that Abbott trusted her in a way he would never trust Lucy or Layla. Maybe he even thought she was a teensy bit better than Lyle, who’d graduated in business and was proving himself at Crissman & Wolfe until that hard-ass Miranda Wallace had made life so difficult for him. Miranda had thought it was her job, apparently, to school the Crissman children in the ways of Crissman & Wolfe. Fat lot of good it did her, considering the brick-and-mortar store was on its last breath. Kate had initially warned Lyle that he should make nice with Miranda, but Lyle had refused, and Kate saw now that it was best to let Lucy work things out with the controlling bitch. Too bad Abbott listened to Miranda so much. She knew nothing and less about the company business, no matter what she said. Kate could have run the place better if Abbott had let her. He knew Kate’s worth, so maybe in time he would turn over the reins of the internet business to her and kick Miranda and Lucy to the curb. Lyle didn’t seem to want to make that move, so it would be up to her ... maybe. She needed to think about that.

  Lyle had finally walked back out of the bedroom, but he hadn’t said a word. Kate had asked about dinner, but he hadn’t been interested in anything she came up with. She’d heard him on the phone later, talking to his father, and she’d made certain Daphne ate the organic salad she’d created with wheat berries, avocado, cherry tomatoes, and kale. Her daughter had made gagging noises and protested that her friends got to eat pizza, her friends like Evie, and that had really burned Kate.

  “You can go live with your father anytime,” she said, a favorite of hers, which normally brought Daphne in line, although today the girl had looked rebellious for a moment before she’d gone back to her homework. It was an empty threat, though Daphne didn’t know that; her ex seemed to have less and less interest in his daughter as the years rolled by. He’d been dating the same woman for almost five years and she apparently had the funds to put up with his schemes and promises, although Kate had heard he’d taken a job with an investment firm and had been there going on almost three years. Hard to believe. Lyle’s job consisted of meetings and phone calls with Abbott, which meant he could pick up Daphne and run her around when Kate couldn’t, which was very nice ... a godsend, really.

  She just wished he received a regular paycheck; Abbott paid him sporadically because his pay wasn’t put through the regular store payroll. Sometimes it felt like begging for the very real salary Lyle worked for, but then the store was about over. Most of the employees would be let go. Such was the way of progress.

  With Lyle disinterested in dinner, Kate had made herself a peanut butter and honey sandwich, of which she ate half. She could have used another drink, but she decided on a glass of white wine instead, sipping away in silence. Peanut butter sandwich and wine. She would be embarrassed if anyone knew.

  By the time they’d gone to bed, Lyle had been speaking to her again. Well, Kate was speaking and Lyle was listening. He complained of being tired, so she’d told him to take a shower and then crawl between the sheets. He took her advice, and she asked if he wanted anything more to eat, to which he said he’d stopped by Morton’s Steakhouse and had a little something on the way home. She’d laughed and asked what “little something” he’d found there, at which he’d become stubborn all over again.

  Now, hours later, she’d slipped in beside him. She’d wanted him to make love to her, wanted to feel him inside her. It was about all she could think about. She tried not to obsess too much about conception, having their baby. That had gotten her nowhere so far, and she knew the more desperate she became, the less the chances. She needed to ratchet down the anxiety and live in the moment. She could feel the box unwrapping in her mind, ready to spring Layla’s news all over her again, like raining confetti. Gritting her teeth, she mentally strapped it down hard, yanking on the bow till it was extra tight. No lovemaking tonight. Lyle wasn’t in the mood. She’d told herself to be content to just cuddle with her husband, feel his arms around her, burrow into the comfort of his embrace, but with that in mind, all she’d gotten was his back.

  Well, fine. She could cradle him. They were a team. Nothing without each other. Abbott understood that, and Lyle did, too.

  “Goodnight, lover,” she said, waiting, hoping he would turn toward her.

  Instead, he just nestled his head farther into the pillow, easing a bit farther from her embrace so that Kate loosened her grip. She pulled back to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling of their bedroom.

  * * *

  Abbott called Lucy on her cell phone while she was at her desk the following morning. She pushed back from her desk and her Excel program to take the call. “Hi, Dad,” she said coolly, getting up from her chair and leaving the room. She didn’t need Miranda’s ears listening in, or anyone else’s for that matter.

  “I understand you’ve been trying to get hold of me,” he said shortly.

  “I came by your house last night when you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “I was having dinner with a friend.”

  “Ah. After sending Kate to tell us you’re shuttering the business and selling Stonehenge?”

  He ignored the Stonehenge issue, saying, “You know as well as anyone that sales have been dismal.”

  “Why couldn’t you talk to me about it? Or John?”

  “I talked to John this morning. We’re not closing the store immediately. We’re staying open through the summer. Our lease is up in September. John understands.”

  “Does he?” Lucy felt the burn of angry tears and forced her voice to stay steady.

  “He’ll be running the online sales division.”

  Lucy absorbed that. “Oh.”

  “With Lyle,” he added. “You’ll be working with them both, unless you don’t want to.”

  She squeezed her hand around the receiver. That would never work, but it wasn’t for her to say. Lyle
didn’t work well with people, and neither did John.

  Her father grumbled, “Kate was supposed to set up a time for us all to meet. We’ve settled on Friday at my office. I want Layla to be there as well.”

  “So, this isn’t just about the company?”

  “I want all of you there. No misinterpretation. Crissman and Wolfe is still my company. You all seem to forget that,” her father said.

  No, we don’t. You never let us. She asked carefully, “Are we going to talk about Stonehenge, too?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Kate said there was an offer on the table.”

  “We can talk about everything on Friday. I’ll call Layla next and tell her to join us.” He trailed off, and she suspected he wanted her to step in and say she would do it. Lucy might have trouble connecting with her father, but Layla was a complete mystery to him and he was always uncomfortable with her.

  Lucy wasn’t going to let him off the hook this time. “Call her. Good idea,” she said. “Oh, and I should let you know congratulations are in order. You’re going to be a grandfather again.”

  She clicked off before he could answer. Let him stew on that one. Layla might not have wanted her to spill the beans, but she was feeling ornery . . . and a little hurt. Everyone seemed to be keeping secrets from her. It was a small victory to have the last word with her father, but it felt inordinately good.

  “I’m going to have to find a new job,” she said aloud. This was not a healthy situation, no matter what the future brought.

  She sat in her chair, reviewing every syllable in the call with her father. She had to practically shake herself back to the present. There was still over half a day of work ahead of her, but Lucy was feeling angry and reckless. She grabbed her purse and coat and headed toward the door. What were they going to do to her anyway? Fire her?