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“As long as you quit calling me, Mr. Shaw.”
I smiled up at him, and he tried to return it, but there wasn’t an ounce of happiness in him and he couldn’t fake it. He gathered up some clothes for the night and started to leave the room.
“Good night,” he said to me. “And thanks.”
My heart leapt. He might not be a lost cause after all.
20
Lucas
It was D-Day—the day I would find out if I was Esmé’s father. I needed a drink, or several, but the thought of having one turned my already queasy stomach upside down. I stood out on my terrace breathing in some fresh air—an oxymoron in this city. The evening sun was sitting in the western sky as I waited for an answer that had the power to change my life forever. The clinic said they’d have the results to me by sundown and it was minutes away.
I fielded calls all day from reporters after the story about Coco, aka Erin, and the baby broke in The New York Post. Page Six wasn’t enough for my troubles. They’d plastered it as a headline on the front page. Most of what they wrote was the truth, so Iron Gate’s PR team had their work cut out for them.
So far, their only advice was exactly what I said to the reporter last night, no comment. But the lack of a denial gave the media all it needed to take a salacious story and turn it into a headline. Everyone loved reading stories about a Manhattan prince falling from his lofty throne.
I ran my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time and looked out over the city I’d grown to detest. It felt more like a prison than a home most days.
When my father called me in the early morning hours, I didn’t answer. He’d left a voicemail sharing his great disappointment in letting my personal life become gossip fodder once again. I hadn’t returned the call, because he was right—something I hated to admit to him. He’d cleaned up my messes since the accident with my mother when I was seventeen. This time, I was on my own. Nothing he could do or say would help.
Barclay told me he was there if I needed him. He didn’t realize he’d connected me to the one person who seemed to give a shit about me, even after I’d been a royal shit to her. Beautiful Peaches. I deserved nothing from her, yet I needed her strength like my next breath.
The terrace door clicked behind me. I felt her presence and a sense of relief before she came to stand beside me. Our hands, palms down on the brick and concrete edge, mirrored each other as we looked out over upper Manhattan. Our view towered over the city.
“She’s asleep.” Maggie spoke softly, trying not to disturb me in the quiet above the city’s noise, but it didn’t matter. My thoughts hammered against my skull with the possibilities of what the future held for the kid and me. Together or not.
“She’s mastered the art.” The child had slept more than she’d been awake since Coco walked out. Even during the DNA test this morning, she didn’t make a sound as the technician exchanged her beloved thumb for a cotton swab.
“Babies grow in their sleep. It’s totally normal.”
A gentle breeze blew Maggie’s hair away from her face. Raven locks moved in ripples with the wind, shining from the day’s last rays of sun. When she turned toward me, wisps fell across her cheeks, covering her beautiful eyes. I brushed them away, letting my fingers linger on her soft cheeks. She tilted her head, leaning into my touch. I was mesmerized by her beauty.
Remembering my promise to Barclay and myself, I dropped my hand. But my fingers still felt the buzzing connection that pulled me to her, making it easy to forget she was forbidden.
“Any word?” Her voice was raspy, deeper than usual.
“Nothing yet.”
The waiting game killed me. I wanted to know if the child was mine. If not, my lawyer would call the authorities, but where would the child go from there? A short-term foster home?
If our DNA matched beyond a reasonable doubt, I would be connected to the child for life. The idea of that happening scared the fuck out of me too.
Lost in our thought, Maggie and I continued to look out over Central Park. Shadows formed as sunlight fell from the sky. Her hand moved, our pinkies now side by side, more like a stranger’s touch in a crowded space, though we had plenty of room.
Her small finger lifted and wrapped around mine. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my body from reacting, but it was a vain attempt.
“You made a promise. But what if I was the one to touch you?” She took my hand in hers, both of us turned toward one another. “As a friend of course. We can be friends, can’t we, Lucas?”
