Page 59 of Daddy Issues


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I held out my hand, helping her rise to her feet. The sadness in her eyes tore me apart. I handed her phone back to her, brushed a shiny strand of hair off her cheek, and left for my office down the hallway.

“Jared. Office. Now,” I called out as I passed by the nursery. The door stood wide open. J.J. could’ve heard or possibly seen our encounter. I paid him to keep his mouth shut, and he better remember that.

I rushed into my office and closed the door behind me. Circling my desk, I fell into my chair, holding my hand against my chest. It hurt and ached to my core. The truth always did. If Maggie knew what I’d done, the cover-up I allowed to happen, the life I ruined, she’d despise me too. I’d never be able to turn off the “if they really knew me” track in my head. I tried once, and I swore never again.

I dialed my sister from my office phone, switching it to speaker. The call rang out in the room.

“Lucas,” Chloe answered. “How are you, big brother?”

“Never better.” I scoffed.

“You’ve been dealt a hard hand with the baby thrust on you. You still want me to come over tonight?”

“Please. My temporary nanny has the night off. I’m not ready to handle the baby alone.” I longed for the order I had in my life. Nothing was left to chance. Nothing made me feel either. I’d hit foreign territory at light speed.

“My last appointment is at five. I should be done by six or six thirty. I can’t wait to meet my niece.”

“She reminds me so much of you when you were born.”

I was ten years older than Chloe. When my mother brought her home from the hospital, I pulled a chair next to her crib and watched her sleep. I didn’t want to leave her side in the early days. She was only seven when the accident happened, changing her life forever too. She still had no idea I was driving the snowmobile.

“I bought a few things for Esmé in Toronto before I flew back. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Also, I need your thoughts on expanding the nursery, using some of the space from the gym. And I need a bedroom for the permanent nanny.”

“I’ll take a look, but you might want to buy a larger apartment. It’s hell going through that kind of renovation with a small child.”

J.J. walked into the office as instructed, though it took him longer than it should’ve.

“I need to run. See you after the nanny leaves.”

“I’ll spoil her rotten until you get home. And after too.”

I punched the speaker button, ending the call. “Jared, have a seat.”

“Yes, sir.” He carried his trusty iPad in his hands. We were back to business. This I understood.

“I need you to do two things today. First, add a GPS tracking app to Maggie’s phone and connect it to mine. I believe Google has an interface. I need to know where she is with Esmé at all times.” J.J. punched away on his screen. “Next, I need you to start interviewing permanent nannies. Ones familiar with the needs of a child raised in Manhattan.”

“But, sir, what about—”

I cut him off before he could say her name. “I prefer a career nanny, not an au pair or someone between jobs. Also, the more matronly, the better.”

“Sir, Maggie is amazing with the baby,” J.J. rushed out.

“You have today’s assignment. Do it properly so you have a job tomorrow.”

I rose from my chair, pulling my cell from my pocket. “Bring the car to the front of the building,” I told my driver.

“I’ll meet you downtown,” I said to J.J. “I’m going to my attorney’s office alone.”

I exited into the hallway and headed toward the front door. I heard Maggie’s laughter followed my Esmé’s, and I strode by the nursery. A stabbing pain twisted in my gut, but I was the one who held the knife’s handle.

In the car, I made another call. This one in complete privacy.

“Mr. Newsome. It’s Lucas Shaw.”

“Mr. Shaw. It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from you. I thought you might’ve fallen in love, left us for good.” I scoffed at his attempt at humor. Nothing was funny to me right now.

“Send me résumés of who’s available. Please limit them. You know what I like. Compliant. Blondes only.” I wanted the opposite of her.

Minutes later, an email from Newsome arrived in my inbox. I scrolled through his choices. The first was a leggy blonde. NYU undergraduate. Well-versed in current affairs. I skipped over her. I needed a hard fuck, not a date to the U.N.

After viewing all the profiles, I closed the email. None of the women did a thing for me. I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. I’d revisit the email later when my head was clearer.

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