Complete We (A Her Billionaires Novella #4) (2 page)

Sin. Lifestyle. Code words? Was he with the religious protestors?

She added another deadly sin to the conversation: lying. “I’m so sorry, Frank,” she said, handing him her business card, “but we’re revamping all our sales materials right now. We’re completely out of print brochures. But if you give me your telephone number and mailing address, we can be sure to reach out and give you whatever you need.”

“Whatever I need? Sounds good to me,” he replied, scribbling on the back of a card he pulled out of his breast pocket. He handed it to Josie and she took it, not looking at it.

“We’ll be in touch,” she said as he slipped out of the door. Janet was in the hallway and caught Josie’s eye. Josie gave her an index finger to ask her to wait.

“Oh, yes, Josie,” Frank said with great affect as he pumped her arm silly with an overly enthusiastic handshake, “you most definitely have not seen the last of me.”

Josie’s phone buzzed, trapped in her purse in a desk drawer. She ignored the sound as Frank walked away, whistling some tune she couldn’t name, the echo following him.

Janet craned her neck and let out a low whistle of her own. “Who’s the silver fox? Meow.” Janet was about the same age as Frank, Josie guessed, and was happily married to her high school sweetheart, a marathon runner who cracked chests as a cardiac surgeon in his spare time. Talk about a power couple.

“Someone who wants to be a client,” Josie said absentmindedly, fingering the card he’d given her. The handwritten phone number and mailing address were barely legible, but indicated a Boston address. No surprise there. Most people who became clients were local, though an increasing number were signing on via internet.

“Huh. If I could get Herb on board, and if that’s the kind of man you’re getting as a client,” Janet muttered as she watched Frank’s ass turn a corner, “then maybe I need to come in for a free information session.”

Josie rolled her eyes and snorted. Janet’s husband, Herb, had the personality of Mr. Rogers. The man served homeless guys on the street in downtown Boston, handing out wool blankets in subzero temperatures in the winter.

“That’s enough. You’re buying,” Josie choked out.

“Why am I buying?”

“Because now I need coffee to bleach out the vision of you and Herb and…that guy…” She shuddered.

“I can’t believe you’re such a prude and you run a threesome dating service!” Janet’s eyes twinkled and she said the words quietly, leaning in as though sharing a salacious secret. Which, actually, she was. While most of the accountants knew what Good Things Come in Threes was, they didn’t talk about it publicly.

“Not a prude. Just don’t want to know about your fantasies. Or Herb’s.” Josie shuddered again.

“Hey, I do commit double entry all the time.” Janet cocked one eyebrow. “In a strictly professional sense.”

Josie’s groan filled the staircase as they made their way down to latte central.

Even a cup of great coffee, though, wouldn’t drown out the voice of warning that wouldn’t stop yammering inside Josie.

She needed to talk to someone, and Janet wouldn’t do.

“Shit!” she barked as they made their way down the stairs. Janet always took the stairs, both up and down; she said working at a desk meant she needed to move her body whenever she could. “I left my purse back in the office.”

“I’m buying,” Janet said with great sarcasm. “Remember?”

Josie perked up. “Oh. That’s right. Never mind. It’s locked in the office. Thanks!”

By the time she read the nine text messages from Laura later that afternoon, the coffee’s buzz had long worn off, but the bitter taste in her mouth remained.

* * *

As Mike and Dylan walked into her East Cambridge apartment, Jillian perched on Mike’s hip, it occurred to Josie that the men had never been here. Laura had come over with Jillian plenty of times, for business meetings or “business meetings” which were thinly disguised coffee chats that Laura needed, but Mike and Dylan had never been over.

For a split second she felt self-conscious. The place was neat and tidy, so no worries there, but it certainly didn’t hold a candle to Mike’s lodge-like cabin in the woods, a fortress buried in the middle of nature, where the sounds of the city were as distant as the heavens. Her place was small and a bit shabby, with baseboards that hadn’t been painted since the late 1990s, old radiators that hissed and groaned when called to action during New England winters, and her cat, Crackhead, who stared at the now-toddling Jillian with a look of horror so pronounced it made Josie burst into giggles.

The cat shot under the television cabinet in the living room and probably would be there for the next three days.

“Kiht,” Jillian said with glee, practically running to the cabinet, swiping her hand to grab at the disappeared cat and knocking over a stack of DVDs.

Shit. Her (and Alex’s) apartment was about as childproofed as Jennifer Lawrence’s cell phone was secure from hackers.

Which was to say:
not
.

“Sorry,” Dylan muttered, bending down to pick up the DVDs. He grabbed a small stained-glass candle holder from a lower shelf and handed it to her. “Jillie will destroy this, so you might want to put it high.”

“And secure your car keys,” Mike said pleasantly, sitting in one of her chairs, legs stretched out. He was just a tiny bit taller than Alex, and his legs nearly touched the TV cabinet. When Josie sat in that chair,
her
legs barely touched the ground.

“Yeah,” Dylan said, laughing. “She threw mine down the vent again.”

“No vents here,” she said, pointing to the silver-painted radiators. “Just those.”

“Good thing it’s summer, then,” Laura added, walking in behind them, carrying a diaper bag the size of an Appalachian backpacker’s supply pack. “We wouldn’t want her to burn herself.”

“Geez, I’d never thought of that!” Josie exclaimed, looking at her apartment through what felt like new eyes. Childproofing? Kids losing car keys? Tiny toddlers getting burned by parts of her everyday life that seemed perfectly benign?

Parenting sure wasn’t for wimps.

And Alex, she knew, wanted kids. Her heart started to spin in circles and she changed the subject. “Coffee, anyone?”

Three “yeses” later and she found herself gratefully making brews for the group. Jillian was drinking from the tap when Josie returned with the coffee, Laura settled on the couch next to Dylan, shirt pulled up.

“You’re still nursing?” she asked, regretting the words instantly.

“You’re still breathing?” Dylan asked.

“I wasn’t being judgmental. Just…you don’t see too many people nursing a thirteen-month-old. Not where I’m from, at least.” She frowned. “Then again, I never paid much attention. Maybe they did and I didn’t notice.”

“You ever see thirteen-month-olds drinking from bottles and using pacifiers?” Mike asked evenly.

“Yes.”

“Same thing, right?” He had a point.

“How about we switch topics and talk about Laura’s uncle. You said he came to the office?” Dylan’s voice was flat and chilling, making Josie’s heart return to that spinning sensation, like she had a wound top inside her chest that had been released. She’d read Laura’s texts after coming back from coffee with Janet and had texted right back, rushing home.

To her surprise, Laura had wanted to meet
here
.

She recounted the story with as much detail as possible, careful to convey every subtle gesture, every calculation Frank had seemed to make during their encounter. Laura was, by turns, upset, shocked, chagrined, dismissive, and worried, and it hurt Josie to think that she might have contributed to some sort of growing issue.

“Why now?” she asked. The looks on all three faces told her it was a question they’d been pondering, too.

“Money,” Laura said with a sigh. Jillian popped off Laura’s breast and shouted the word, making them all laugh.

“Wan Bub Gup,” she said, pointing to the television.

Josie gave Laura a perplexed look. “Bub Gup?”

“The only television show she watches. We put on Bubble Guppies once a day.” Laura seemed guilty. Josie couldn’t fathom why. Television had been her babysitter as a kid.

“I don’t know what that is. Is it on PBS?”

Dylan named a different channel.

“Oh,” Josie said apologetically. “Sorry. We don’t have cable.” When Alex had moved in, they’d gone over every single bill each had, an exercise in financial nudity that still left her feeling weirdly vulnerable. Sharing expenses but also revealing debt loads made her woozy. It was one thing to know he had enormous student loans from medical school, but quite another to admit how much she spent on coffee at little shops, or to show him her Victoria’s Secret credit card balance.

They’d cut a bunch of expenses to tighten their budget, and cable had been one of the items to go. As long as they had Netflix, she was fine.

“Ow tide?” Jillian asked Dylan, rolling off Laura’s lap and sinking a chubby shoe into Laura’s midsection as Laura gasped but took the kick in stride. “Ow tide?”

“You want to go outside?” Dylan asked, holding the baby now, who started to bounce with anticipation.

“OW TIDE!” she screeched, making Josie’s eardrum buzz like a sonic boom. Holy hell. The kid had chops.

“I guess we’re going outside.” Mike snickered, grabbing his coffee cup. “Is that a park across the street?”

“Yep. With a baseball field.”

Mike’s brow furrowed. “A playground, though? With swings?”

Josie had to think for a second. She didn’t really go over to that section, but yes—there was a playground. “Let’s go over and I’ll show you,” she said with a nod. The past few minutes had unnerved her. The sudden appearance of Laura’s uncle Frank was unsettling enough, but more than that was the paradigm shift in everything.

Laura, Mike, and Dylan lived their life through the lens of Jillian. She was watching it in slow motion, rolled out second by second, from the layout of her apartment, to how Laura used her body, to where they talked. Parenthood hadn’t just given them a human being to raise, nurture, and love.

It had literally changed how they viewed the entire world.

And Josie didn’t have that.

Yet.

She felt like they breathed a different air, spoke the same language but did so with different meanings. Like they were living in the same physical space but in a slightly altered dimension. It felt weird. Alienating. So jarring that Josie’s brain split into a thousand little pieces of ribbon that started floating aimlessly, blown by a growing wind of discontent.

Dylan carried Jillian as they crossed the street, while Laura managed two coffee mugs, her shirt and bra back in place after the nursing. Mike tagged along, ambling slowly, enjoying sips of coffee as they passed the famous No Parking sign where Alex had hurt himself.

Laura giggled as she read it. “Dr. Perfect recovered from his wound?” It was a rhetorical question, because that had happened ages ago. Eight months or so, but still… She and Alex had been broken up and Darla, Trevor, and Joe had been on the porch with her, drinking coffee and talking. Alex’s apartment had been a few blocks away and—he later confessed—he had taken to going for runs around the park in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.

On that fateful morning he’d caught a glimpse, all right. Of her touching Darla’s boyfriend’s bare chest, a heart surgery scar Darla insisted Josie check out.

Slam!
Alex had been so distracted he’d run full force into a parking sign.

That damn sign was responsible for a wicked daring scar on his eyebrow and their reunion.

Thank God for glimpses.

“Ha ha, Laura, you know he is.”

“You recovered from having him move in?”

Josie opened her mouth to answer back with a wisecrack and found herself wordless. The correct answer was “no.”

“Ummm…”

Laura nodded as they reached a set of baby swings Dylan had rooted out as if powered by parent echolocation. He was lowering a squealing Jillian into the little seat.

“Ting! Ting!” she crowed.
Swing!

Josie couldn’t help but smile. Dylan, her ever-faithful servant, did as ordered.

It must be good to be the queen. And Queen Jillian grinned and giggled, shouting, “Mo! Mo!” with the assurance that her daddy would, indeed, give her more.

Josie couldn’t help but tear up, suddenly.

Laura’s reassuring hand was on her shoulder, rubbing her back lightly. “You okay?”

Josie nodded and gulped hot coffee quickly, doing anything to break through this strange emotional state she floated in. “Yeah. Fine.”

Eyes bouncing between her daughter and Josie, Laura looked at her friend, settling on an expression of compassion. “You guys talking about kids yet?” Before Josie could answer, Laura interrupted, “No. Wait. Let me guess.
Alex
is talking about kids and you are still hyperventilating because he uses your towels to shower.”

“Something like that.” Josie stared glumly at the bottom of her empty coffee cup. A change of subject was desperately in order. “Let’s talk about Frank.”