Tug (Irreparable 3)

“You’re like a two-year-old, but instead of throwing a tantrum to get your way, you throw money and power at it.”

I bite down hard on my tongue. She’s intentionally starting an argument, and I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret. My body shakes with anger, and I pull over to the side of the road.

“So what if I’m a two-year-old with resources?” The smile she tries to hide shows through her clenched jaw. “Don’t pick a fight, please. I know today was hard on you. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you by taking you there.”

“What was your intention? There’s so much sadness there. How can you stand it?”

“I think that depends on how you look at it.”

“And you’re insinuating that I’m a pessimist. I swear if you say the glass is half full, I’m jumping out of this car.”

I throw my head back and laugh, which makes her laugh also. “We’re all pessimists, sweet girl. The Center is important to our family. Brady always knew he was unwanted. When he found the Center, it was his chance to help other kids feel loved. After my mother’s suicide, it was a place for all of us to escape the press, but being there with those kids healed us. I’d spend every dime I had to make those kids happy, and give them an education.”

She looks at me like I’ve just explained myself in another language. “Why?”

“Because, despite where those children came from, or what tragedies they’ve experienced, it’s their hope for a future.”

Her head tilts, a contemplative expression descending over her features. “That’s why you took me there?”

Her understanding thrills me. “Your past is what it is. I can’t change that, but I want to give you a better future. I want you to trust me, allow me to do things for you that make me happy, like wake up two hours earlier than I need to so you’ll spend the night with me.”

Her eyes water, but she smiles. “You’re pretty amazing.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

I drop Javier off at school and plan to pick him up after work from Tori’s. Maria has to work late, and I’m looking forward to hanging with him. Through my meetings and boardroom lectures, all I can think about is Maria, the feel of her skin, the way her eyes squeeze tight before she reaches climax, her contagious laugh and gorgeous smile.

Eventually the press is going to find out about us, and they’ll report on her previous profession. My only worry is the board’s reaction, but in all honesty, if they fire me, my life will still be complete.

I phone my publicist to give her a heads-up about the impending shit storm she may need to smooth over. She’s confident in her ability to handle it, but more concerned that I get in touch with an attorney. Her implication that Maria is in my life to get her paws on my bank account is infuriating, but I consider how the relationship sounds to someone who doesn’t know Maria, who hasn’t seen her put everyone she cares about first, or the way she holds her son in her arms like a lifeline, or carefully attends to her ailing grandfather. To someone who’s never seen the terrifying shadows of her past behind her gorgeous brown eyes, I suppose it would seem Maria was a fortune hunter. I, on the other hand, have seen all of those beautiful qualities, and I know she’s a gentle and kind soul who would care about me even if I had nothing monetary to give.

Just before lunch, my cell phone rings.

“Hello, sweet girl.”

“I need a huge favor,” she says frantically.

“What is it?”

“Javier got into a fight at school. I have to go pick him up, but I’m at work and it’s the lunch rush. I can’t leave.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. Can you go get him?”

“Of course, but not because it’s a favor. I want to. These are the moments I want with you.”

Her soft laughter fills the line. “There’d better not be any more ‘moments’ involving my kid fighting at school.”

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry. I’ll see you after work.”

Big apprehensive eyes look up at me when I enter the office at Javier’s school. I smile reassuringly at Javier and then spend some time speaking to the principal about what happened. When Javier and I leave the office and get in my car, I turn to look at him.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“I just did what you said. I stood up for myself.”

Oh, man, I’m an epic failure and clearly unprepared to dish out advice to children. When I told him to stand up for himself, I didn’t mean for him to engage in a physical confrontation, but I didn’t explain it correctly. I didn’t realize he’s a sponge, and every word and action from me molds and shapes him into the man he’ll become.