Page 45 of Love By The Falls

“Yes!” Charlie looks out his window, content with the new plans. His hand thumps on his leg as he taps along to a rhythm in his head.

He doesn’t ask about Jason again, but he might. My hands shake on the steering wheel, and I rationalize that my reaction is unreasonable, but I can’t stop my body from wanting to protect my son. Jason hurt me when he left, even though he thought he didn’t. He did. He hurt me more deeply than he can imagine. If he could do that to someone he promised to love forever, what’s stopping him from making those false promises to my son?

After ordering our hamburgers, I drive back home and let Charlie eat his dinner in the living room. While I’m trying to be a good mother and protect my son, everything I’ve done so far today contradicts that—fast food and ice cream being prime examples. But I can’t dismiss the nagging thought.

Is it wrong that I’m keeping Charlie from knowing his father?

I throw my hair in a ponytail and wash my face as the thought pulses in my head like an infected wound.

I sleep restlessly that night, tossing and turning, debating what to do when finally, I decide: All by myself, without Charlie in the room, I will hear the bastard out. Then I can tell him once and for all to stay the hell away from us.

12

Caleb

I choose a gold Rolex from the rows of watches in my drawer and snap it onto my wrist. Next, I clasp the gold cufflinks my mother purchased for my thirtieth birthday and grab a yellow tie from the rows of folded ones next to my watch drawer.

The blue suit isn’t my usual color, but I’ve been told by my stylist that the black ones are too formal and intimidating and gray is no longer trending.

Brigitte, my sister-in-law, insisted on the stylist when my brother and I started our third corporation together six months ago. Brigitte and the publicist insist that me and my brother Michael be the faces of the brand, at least when we launch the company in a few months. So, now I have an image consultant and a stylist, and they’re both pains in the ass.

But Michael really wanted this company, and he’s the one running the show, so the least I can do is put on a blue suit.

I take the elevator down to the sixth floor where the front office staff all work. I became part owner of the MLB New York Lions two years ago, and rather thancommuting from Manhattan to Queens every day, I turned a few of the offices on the tenth floor into my living quarters. For a bachelor, it’s more than enough for me, and I don’t have to deal with traffic.

“Good morning, Trevor,” I say, passing my assistant on the way to my corner office.

He’s wearing a gray suit and tie, and I wonder if Brigitte’s stylist is wrong.

While on the phone, Travis says, “One second, please,” and then turns to me. “Good morning, sir. Before you go in there, you should know there’s a woman in your office who says she has urgent business with you. I told her she needs to make an appointment, but she insisted.”

“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”

As soon as I open the office door, a strong waft of perfume hits me, and I cover my mouth to muffle a cough. The woman’s back is turned. She has long brown, wavy hair and for a moment, my heart stops.

Then she turns around. Her big blue eyes are outlined in black liner and her mouth curls into an exaggerated pout.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

She pushes her hair back. Her dress barely covers half of her breasts and the string at her waist falls limply, as though it’s about to unravel.

“Yes, I think you can, Mr. Consuelos.” She walks up to me and, with one quick tug, unties her dress completely. She stands before me in the skimpiest black lace bra and underwear. “I think you can help me very much.”

Ah, fuck.

I turn away from her and walk over to my desk. “I think you’ve been misinformed. It’s best if you leave now.”

She stares at me, but I keep my head down, pretending to log in to my laptop.

“But this is how your best friend fell in love with his wife,” she explains. “You said it was romantic, and that you appreciated the initiative. You said that. I saw it on a TikTok.”

“I did. You’re right. And it worked for my friend, but not for me. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming down here, but you need to leave.”

She yanks her dress shut and ties it aggressively over her waist, covering herself much more conservatively this time. “You’re such a liar and a fake.”

She storms out of the office, and I sit in my leather chair and stare out the window. That blasted viral video won’t go away. Just when I think it’s over, another content creator picks it up and the ambushes start all over again.

I pick up the phone and call Trevor. He answers immediately. “Yes, sir?”

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