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First came Hank, the only thing besides my work that I truly regretted leaving behind in New York City. He was a balm on my soul, and having him here in California with me—and away from a soulless boarding facility—was almost better than therapy. Could a dog be a replacement for a best friend? Hank was always my best friend, particularly when the woman who I thought was my best friend slept with my fiancé.
Then there was the case of whiskey. The last thing I needed in a house full of boxes was yet another box. What if I slipped up and donated it to charity along with other old gatherings of clothes and toys and decorations? The only reason I didn’t say anything to Graham about my particular concern was that I was afraid he would just send another case to my apartment in New York. If he found Hank without my input, he would’ve had no problem figuring out my mailing address.
Next—after Graham hadexpresslypromised not to do any more of these little favors for me—he revamped an entire room in his house to function as my own home office away from home. Sure, it was the one he had commandeered himself the first few days when he didn’t trust me, but it was still completely different from the bare-bones setup he stationed himself in. There was an actual desk, a brand-new laptop he “didn’t use anymore” that had a nanny cam feed always running in one corner, cushy seating options, a table, and more.
“Just in case you need to do some work here while Collins is occupied or if I have a late work emergency again,” Graham explained when I called him out on it.
After that came the car.
Yes, acar.
“This is stupid,” I said the moment his housekeeper laid the keys in my hand. Graham was already at work for an impromptu breakfast meeting, and I was just arriving at the house to start the day with Collins.
“I don’t know if that would be the adjective I would use to describe this gesture,” the housekeeper said. “I think ‘generous’ might be more the speed you’re looking for.”
“This is a bribe,” I raged, jingling the keys at the wrong person to be yelling at. The housekeeper was just the messenger, and the real culprit to this trouble wasn’t answering his phone calls, but I was angry. “What the hell does he want?”
“For you to stop parking that eyesore of a rental in front of the house,” the housekeeper intoned. “At least, that’s what he told me to say when you inevitably—and I quote—‘lose your shit.’”
God! He couldn’t even be bothered to conduct his own fights in public. In my rage, I furiously thumbed out several vitriolic blocks of text messages to him.
“Relax,” he finally sent back when it was nearly lunchtime. “The car is just a temporary loan, so you don’t have to keep shelling out money for that ugly rental. You can return it once you leave.”
Okay, maybe, but the car was just like the laptop—brand new, top of the line, and obviously a gift meant to…what? What was happening here? What was supposed to happen? I told him I was leaving to fly back across the country to my regularly scheduled life and job in a week-and-a-half, and all these things happened in a matter of days.
But the true final straw was my mom’s condo. We were making sure all the paperwork was in order—something that should have been routine—when the property manager informed us about the upgrade. The upgrade was a place twice as big as the one we had originally picked—a villa with a private entrance and a staff that included a housekeeper and cook. It stunk of Graham, but when I tried to call him about it, he turned his phone off.
The most irritating thing about it all was that the biggest question my mom had about Graham’s odd behavior was whyIwas so upset about everything.
“This is just how he is, Heather,” she told me after he’d gone so far as to arrange for the rental car company to come and pick up the vehicle I’d been driving so he couldforceme to use the car he’d purchased.
“Pushy?” I asked, trying my best to hate the hands-free Bluetooth that connected to my phone automatically—and the bells and whistles that came with having a brand new car. I’d never had one. When I was living out here, it was used cars all the way. And I didn’t need one in New York. “Nosy? Controlling? Invasive?”
“Caring,” my mom said. “And set in his ways, of course.”
“You mean stubborn as a mule?” I asked. “Because I asked him not to do anything else after Hank and that ton of liquor.” And the searing night we spent together, draped over a leather chair, tasting of the whiskey I would never be able to forget, especially now that I owned a whole case of it.
“Look who he is,” my mom said, probably thinking she was doing a good job of soothing me. “He’s a billionaire. He gets what he wants. And what he wants is to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re taking care of his daughter.”
“He never bought you a car while you were the nanny,” I said accusatorily. And I hoped to God that they’d never slept with each other because what a nightmare it would be. I would never utter those words to my mom, though.
“You’re probably a better nanny than I ever was,” my mom mused. “See you when you get home.”
When I found myself jumpy at the slightest movement, worried sick from guessing what Graham’s next “surprise” for me was going to be, I knew it was time to get things straight, so I took Collins over to my mom’s for the morning. I told her it was a treat, and I also left her with strict instructions not to engage in any running or horseplay. Then, I drove myself to Graham’s office.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded as soon as his secretary opened the door for me. “Where is my daughter?”
“With my mom for a couple of hours,” I said. “Why? Wasn’t that the arrangement you wanted from the beginning?”
Graham stared daggers at me—his green eyes two pools of simmering anger. “Talk to me, Heather. If that’s what you’re here to do.”
“Yes, that’sexactlywhat I’m here to do,” I said, stomping across his office furiously. “Because you dismiss me when I try to do it at your home, and you ignore me when I try to talk to you on the phone about everything that’s been going on. This was my last resort—cornering you in a place you actually have to be.”
“What do you mean by everything that’s been going on? What’s been going on?”
I cackled mirthlessly, out of breath with anger and exasperation. “Hank. The booze. The home office. The car. My mom’scondo,for God’s sake! What do you want?”
“Carol did more for me than anyone could have at that time,” he said quietly. “The condo is her retirement gift from me. Her true retirement, along with a guarantee that I won’t seek out her services again.”
