Baby for the Bosshole Page 32

  “Right,” Dad says. If you asked him again what her name is, he’d say “Amelia” or some such.

  “So. When’s the baby due?” He sticks his neck out like a lemur scouting for food. “You aren’t showing.”

  “And she won’t for a while,” I say. “It’s just the first trimester.”

  “I heard from Joey about the ceremony. I’m a busy man, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  It’s all I can do to not throw my cold water at the smarmy smile. He thinks he’s so clever, bringing that up now. Joey probably whined about the difficulty he’s having with the invitation, so Dad’s going to play dirty.

  He then turns to Amy’s dad like he’s just noticed him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. You are…?”

  “Mac Sand. Amy’s father.”

  “Oh.” Dad’s shock is so exaggerated, it’s borderline ridiculous. “I’m Ted Lasker. Emmett’s dad.” He extends his hand.

  Mac smiles, half stands and pumps Dad’s hand.

  Dad winces. “Ow, ow! That’s some grip.”

  Thank you, Mac. Can you be my father?

  Mac’s mouth is smiling, but his eyes aren’t.

  “I guess we’ll see more of each other at the wedding,” Dad says.

  “If Joey hasn’t told you already, you aren’t invited,” I say.

  “What?” Dad lets out a my-son-is-such-a-comedian laugh. “Of course I’m invited. I’m your dad! And granddad to Emmy’s baby.”

  Joey must’ve told Dad if he wants to make a personal appeal, he should use the other person’s name. Too bad it doesn’t work if you use the wrong name.

  Amy places a soothing hand on her father’s forearm and says to my dad, “You are not invited. I don’t think you’ll be good for the baby.”

  “Ludicrous.”

  “Dad, you’re making a scene,” I say. “Somebody’s bound to record it and post it all over social media. Imagine going viral for not getting invited to your son’s wedding.” Wouldn’t that be hilarious.

  Dad’s lips purse. “We’ll discuss this later, when we’re more private.”

  He and his date go to another table, and we’re back to having peace. Sort of. Amy’s dad looks like he has a lot to say.

  “I didn’t realize you had family issues. I want Amy to be with a man who doesn’t,” he says.

  Fuck. Of course he’d be upset about that.

  She tugs at him. “Daaaad.”

  “What? Family is important.”

  “That man deserves what he got. He’s like Mom,” she adds.

  Mac sits back a little, processing that information.

  Giving him a second, I put down my utensils.

  “I understand your concern,” I say, facing him directly. “I wish I didn’t have a parent issue, but the fact is I do. There’s nothing I can do about that, except minimize the damage he can cause to our relationship and family. And basically, the only way to do that is to cut him out. Not inviting him to the wedding is the first step. He won’t be part of our lives, and unless our children want it, he won’t be part of theirs, either.”

  Mac grunts softly. “So you’re just going to cut ties with your dad? For her? You aren’t going to regret it?”

  “Not at all. I love your daughter more than anything, sir. The most important person in my life is Amy. My priority is her happiness.”

  We lock eyes for a long moment. “You really mean it,” he says slowly.

  “One hundred percent.”

  He smiles, this time for real. “Huh. Well, I guess you’ll do. A man who can say all that to a girl’s father with such conviction passes.”

  Thank God. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be watching.” He makes a V with his fingers and points them at his eyes, then at me.

  “Please do. You’ll see nothing but Amy’s smile.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Amy

  “All set! You look perfect!” Sasha says, clasping her hands together.

  I check myself in the mirror. The wedding gown is elegant, with little sparkly diamantes sewn along the edge of the skirt. It doesn’t have a train, since the wedding is outdoors and I don’t want my dress sweeping up detritus like a broom. Diamond chandelier earrings drop from my ears; a rope of diamonds circles my neck. My hair’s twisted into a simple updo—Sasha’s handiwork.

  The makeup is subtle but brings out my eyes and turns my lips a lush shade of apple. I can’t quit looking at the mirror in front of me.

  “You look gorgeous,” Clara, the makeup artist Emmett and I hired, says.

  Pleasure flushes my cheeks. “Thank you. You did amazing work. I didn’t know I could look this good!”

  “It’s easy to make a happy bride beautiful,” Clara says with a smile.

  I realize that I am happy. Emmett makes me happy. Working at GrantEm is still demanding—Grant is no slouch, and there are times when Emmett and Grant work on the same portfolio companies. But Emmett always makes sure to do little things to let me know how much he loves me. At first I thought he might do something really crazy and over-the-top to make his feelings known. After all, he’s a billionaire, and even though he has cut his father out of our lives, he grew up seeing a level of excess that I find uncomfortable.

  But he knows me too well. It’s always the little things. A small box of chocolates in my office drawer that draws a surprised smile from me. A handmade lavender-scented candle on my desk when I’m feeling blue. Or just a note tucked between the pages on my desktop calendar that simply says, “I love you.”

  Sasha and I look out through the window. The sky’s blue, not a cloud in sight. Fresh-cut flowers cover the garden—lined up along the aisle where my dad will walk me. They’re also set in a giant arch at the altar for us to stand under and exchange our vows.

  We have live piano music for the ceremony. Apparently, Huxley is a piano whisperer. Guests have already arrived and are milling around. It’s just our family and closest friends. I only want people who will truly wish us the best at our wedding. Emmett’s dad’s not here—we didn’t invite him and he doesn’t have a passcode for the gates, although he’s been impossibly demanding. I’m fine with that, since I don’t understand the point of inviting a man who can’t bother to remember my name.

  Two rapid knocks.

  “Amy, you ready?” Dad calls out from the other side.

  “Yes!” I say as Sasha opens the door for him.

  He takes one step inside, then stops and goes still.

  Finally, he exhales. “Wow.”

  “Wow to you too, Dad.” He definitely looks dashing in his tux.

  “Well?” he says, holding out one arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Let’s.”

  Sasha hands me my bouquet, and I lay my hand on Dad’s arm. We walk down the stairs and into the garden outside. Emmett is standing by the arch, impossibly handsome in his black-and-white tux. My heart flutters, my belly doing a cartwheel. I lay a hand over where our baby is growing.

  Huxley starts in with “Here Comes the Bride.”

  And I start walking toward the love of my life.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Emmett

  It’s been two weeks since our honeymoon in Mexico. My dream of taking Amy to an overwater bungalow in gorgeous French Polynesia has been postponed since she’s pregnant, and we don’t feel too comfortable being that far from home, just in case.

  I look at the big box sitting on the kitchen counter. The housekeeper must’ve left it there. No huge black Amazon smirk on the outside. Hmm.

  The address label says: Mr. and Mrs. Lasker. The sender is Silicone Dream. For some reason, the name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

  Whatever. I get a box cutter and run it over the tape. Inside is a riot of pink, green and purple packing peanuts. Very girly. If the label didn’t have my name on it, I might’ve assumed the box was only for Amy.

  I push the Styrofoam pieces around until my fingers touch something smooth and flat. I fish it out.

  A sparkly purple box. Looks pretty high-end. Gold embossed swirly letters read, The Ultimate Kit: The Second Edition.

  Huh. I pull the lid off—

  Well, well, well.

  Individually sealed sex toys gleam inside. Dildos. Vibrators in all shapes and sizes. Butt plugs. Blunt nipple clamps with electro attachments. Fur-lined cuffs. Flavored syrups. A silk blindfold. A scarlet flogger. And lots and lots of soft, slightly stretchy rope.

  My blood heats as I think about what we can do with the items in the box. If Amy wants to get adventurous, I am all for it.

  The door opens, and Amy walks in.

  “Honey, I’m home!” she announces as she slips off her shoes.

  “Welcome back,” I say with a huge grin.

  “You look happy to see me.” She comes over and kisses me.

  Before she can pull away, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer for another kiss. “I’m always happy to see you.”

  She laughs, slightly breathless. “Especially happy.”

  Her gaze shifts to the kitchen counter. “Oh my God. What is all—?” She laughs. “Did you order these?”

  “No. I thought you did.”

  “Nope. Not me.” Her face slowly scrunches. “Do you think it’s…your dad?”

  Ugh. “No. He’s still in a snit over the wedding. Plus, if it had come from him, the box wouldn’t say Mr. and Mrs. Lasker.”

  Amy grows thoughtful. “Let’s see if there’s anything else in the box.”

  She sticks her hand and moves the peanuts around.

  “Ah-ha!” She pulls out a card, then reads out loud.

  Dear Mr. And Mrs. Lasker,

  I’m sorry I can’t personalize this more. I asked Griffin, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. Anyway, congratulations on your marriage! I hope these toys help bring additional joy to your life. If you want more, just go to our website and use the promo code GRIFFIN15 to get an additional 15% off on our entire catalogue!

  Sierra

  P.S. The code has no expiration date!

  This has something to do with Griffin? My strait-laced, overly particular brother?

  “Who’s Sierra?” Amy asks. “Griffin’s TA?”

  “Doubt it. He’s too uptight. Why don’t I call him?”

  “Great idea.”

  I call him, putting it on speaker. He picks up.

  “Yeah?” he says, sounding slightly harried.

  “Hey, we got a box from you,” I say.

  There’s a pause. “I didn’t send you anything.”

  “It came through Sierra,” Amy explains.

  A beat of deafening silence. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No,” Amy says, giving me an is-he-okay look.

  As I shrug, Griffin says, “That should never have gone to you!”

  “We don’t mind,” I say, hoping Amy’s interested in trying them out. If she isn’t too eager… Well. Maybe I can figure out an angle to convince her. I excel in making my cases.

  “They’re in beta testing!” Griffin says.

  Whaaaat? “How do you beta-test a dildo?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I don’t want to know. She’s crazy!”

  “Who?” Amy asks.

  “Sierra! The woman never follows a schedule. She never plans for anything. She respects nothing! She thinks life is fun and game! Wears really annoying perfume—”

  “What’s annoying about her perfume?” I ask. Griffin isn’t allergic to any scent.

  “It’s distracting!”

  Amy gives me a look, and we share an ESP moment. I don’t think he hates her as much as he claims.

  “She laughs too much,” Griff says. “Smiles all the time, for no reason. And she’s so fucking pink!”

  “What’s wrong with pink?” Amy asks. It is weird for anybody to hate pink this much.

  “Everything! It’s so…bright. It’s just wrong!”

  “So.” I decide to intervene before he starts complaining about something like how pretty she is when she smiles. “What I hear you saying is she’s fun. Spontaneous. Laughs a lot. Smiles a lot, too. And smells good.”

  “Distracting.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds terrible.”

  “Like a little sparkly dollop of evil,” Amy says.

  “She’s everything that’s wrong with humanity,” Griffin grouses.

  “Right. Because humanity needs more grumpiness. Good thing you’re around to balance things out,” I say.

  “What I have is discipline, not grumpiness.”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Anyway, the next time you see this pink ray of sunshine, tell her we said thanks for the presents.”

  “Yes!” Amy says with a bright gleam in her eyes.

  “I’m not having this discussion.” He hangs up.

  “Bet he’s calling Sierra now,” I say.

  “That poor woman… Although it sounds like she can handle him.”

  “Most definitely. She has the power to neutralize his grumpiness.” Then it finally hits me where I’d heard of Silicone Dream before. It’s the name of the company Griffin’s supposed to do a case on with his class! He said it was in high tech, but I don’t know any high-tech firms that beta-test sex toys.

  “So.” She runs her hands over the toys. “You think we should help with their testing?”

  I laugh, picking her up. She grabs the box, and we make our way to our bedroom.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Emmett

  After ten hours of labor, Amy is exhausted. But she still glows like only a new mom can.

  But I know I’m a mess, too, all choked up and emotionally drained. For some reason, the epidural didn’t dull her pain much, and watching her agonized struggle cut hard and deep. What good is modern medicine if they can’t make the birthing process painless?

  But now it’s done and our baby girl is gorgeous. Perfect. Her skin is pink and soft, and she smells like all my future hopes and dreams.

  Mom flew in from London and has been dabbing her eyes. Amy’s dad’s eyes are red too, and he’s wearing a broad grin. My brothers come by in a complicated rotation and stare at our baby girl like she’s so fragile that she’ll shatter if they breathe wrong.

  My dad isn’t here because I never told him.

  “She’s beautiful,” I whisper, then kiss Amy on the forehead. “Thank you.”

  She smiles. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I kiss the baby’s head. “Have you decided on a name?”

  We have a list, but Amy’s been waffling, saying they’re all too wonderful.

  She nods. “Yes. Monique Emma Lasker.”

  Mom flushes with pleasure, her hands covering her mouth. Amy’s dad pats her shoulder.

  “That’s a perfect name,” I say.

  “I know, right?” Amy grins.

  I put my arms around the two most precious people in my life, thinking of all the ways I can show them how much I love them.

  Chapter Sixty

  Amy

  Emmett takes me to an overwater bungalow in the South Pacific for our third anniversary. Says it’s been on his bucket list for almost five years now, which is cute—and so like him. The place has glass sections in the floor that let us see the ocean life below. So far I’ve spotted small sharks, stingrays and sea urchins. Once a turtle swam by.

  As much as I love all the thought and planning he’s put into our anniversary trip, including having his mom and my dad babysit Monique, I’m not just here to enjoy myself. I’m a woman on a mission.

  I want another baby.

  Actually, three would be perfect. But I’m settling for two because Emmett refuses to have another. Says that I had to suffer too much. I told him I regret nothing because Monique is worth it, but he says no future baby is worth the pain I’m certain to go through.

  “It was just a one-time thing. Besides, there are other options for managing pain during delivery,” I’ve argued countless times.

  “One time because it was one baby,” he says, then covers his ears.

  Right now, Emmett is “out back,” swimming in the shallow emerald waters behind our bungalow. I take the opportunity to get into my battle gear, ordered direct from Silicone Dream. Sierra assures me it’s so powerful, it could get a dead man interested.

  Twenty minutes later, I hear the shower running on our deck outside.

  “The water’s amazing. Really warm and clear,” Emmett says as he slides the deck door open and walks in, a towel around his waist. I see his wet swim trunks on the rack outside. “We should go in later, maybe do some snorkeling.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” I quickly shrug into an ankle-length gown, making sure that he can’t see what I have on underneath. No need to tip my hand yet. “But I have a proposal that requires your immediate attention.”

  “I’m not looking at another PowerPoint presentation on why we should have another baby,” he says.

  “Ha! Don’t worry. I didn’t bother, considering you didn’t look at the last one I made.”

  He puts his arms around me. “Babe, we already discussed this.”

  “No, I tried to discuss it. You covered your ears.”

  “I can still say what needs to be said using my uncovered mouth. I don’t need ears to speak.”

  I put my hand on his bare chest. “Come on. Just one time. We try this once, and if it doesn’t happen, I won’t ask again.”

  Emmett starts shaking his head, but I reach up and take hold of his chin.

  “Don’t say no so fast.”

  “Do I need to cover my ears again?” he says dryly.

  “If you want. Just keep your eyes open.”

  He sighs, a tad resigned and a tad exasperated. “You know I hate saying no to you.”

  “I do know that. So why not make things easy on yourself? Say yes.”

  I undo the sash around my waist and drop the gown.

  His lips part, and he stares, his eyes wide and unblinking.

  I’m in nothing except my battle outfit. A silver chain loops around my neck, and it drops down, connecting to rechargeable nipplettes, which can not only pinch but also vibrate. We liked playing with them last time, and I decided to get a new set for the occasion. I’m in a sheer black thong, garter belt and fishnet stockings.