Page 108 of Takeover

I stop and return to the bench. “Like I was saying, Vincent needs his mother, but Ethan will not budge until you do the work. You should know how protective he is of Vincent. The sooner you do the family therapy, the sooner you can see him in person.” I don’t tell her that it will be a while before she gets overnights again. That’s something she’ll need to learn from Ethan and their therapist.

“Fine,” she reluctantly says. “It’s not like I haven’t had years of fucking therapy already, but fine. You’ve not been helpful at all.”

“Really?” I ask. I slide on the bench, moving closer to her. “You’re lucky I care enough about your son to put his feelings first, because if I didn’t, the next time you’d see or hear his voice would be on his eighteenth birthday. And let’s make one more thing clear.” I move closer, pushing her to the arm of the bench. To anyone, it looks like two women having a private conversation, but I can smell the fear on her. “If you ever put your collagen injected lips on Ethan again, it won’t be a therapist that you’ll need. You’ll need a plastic surgeon to fix the damage I’m going to do to your face. Got it?”

She stands up abruptly and smooths out her clothes. “Oh, please, Dara. Stop embarrassing yourself with this gross display of jealousy. And for your information, I’ve met someone.” She juts out her chin like a defiant child. “You and Ethan are both free to go to hell.” She spins on her stilettos and walks away. “I’ll see him in therapy this week,” she yells without turning around. “Lord knows he needs it.”

Hours later, after thanking Serge for driving me home, I step through the front door of the home I grew up in. We’ve been here for four weeks now, and Ethan hasn’t said a thing about going back. I think he actually likes living here with my family. Vincent certainly does, especially since Alan has been here all summer.

My dad and Cheryl definitely like having Vincent under their roof, and she’s taken over teaching Vincent how to cook and bake. Dad and Ethan talk business, and Ethan has convinced him to come on board at BradCo as a consultant for their toys division.

“There you are,” Ethan says, greeting me at the door with a cold glass of water. He kisses me before putting the glass to my lips.

“How did you get here before me? And where is everyone?” I ask, looking around the empty house.

“Liz is keeping Vincent tonight, and I surprised Cheryl and John with a trip to Italy. They’ll be gone for a week. Alan is in Boston for the next few days. And we are going to have a night alone for the first time in weeks. I’m taking you to dinner at the restaurant of your choice. Then we’re coming back here and making love all night in your childhood bed.”

“I like the sound of that,” I tell him. “I need a long, hot shower, especially after that confrontation with your ex-wife,” I tell him.

I called Ethan immediately after the impromptu meeting with Lindsay. One of the things we agreed on after our fight was not to wait to tell each other things.

“She had her lawyer call me, by the way. She’s agreed to the therapy. First session is on Tuesday. Dr. Nader says she’ll want you to join us at some point.”

“I’m ready whenever. Whatever we need to do.”

He takes the water from me and starts to massage my shoulders. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“You bought my dad’s business and pissed me off.”

“Totally worth it. I’d do it all over again,” he says against my ear, sending shockwaves throughout my body.

“Of course, you would. I’ve met your ex. I’m the best you could have done.” He laughs against my ear and grinds his erection into me. “The absolute best.” He shocks me when he scoops me into his arms and heads for the stairs. “Dinner’s going to have to wait.”

I’m jostled out of sleep when the door to the bedroom opens suddenly. Whoever opens it does it with so much force that it hits the wall. I roll over and stick my head underneath a pillow. A body jumps on the bed, landing on my back. He lies on top of me and sticks his little head under the pillow, giggling in my ear.

“Kiddo,” I say, “why don’t you let me sleep, huh?” I turn suddenly, catch him off guard and tickle his ribs. He thrashes on the bed, and his laughter fills the room.

“Tara!” I stop the tickling and wait for him to catch his breath. “Daddy’s waiting for you downstairs.”

“Does that mean you two want breakfast?” We planned to go out, but the heavy rain will most likely put a stop to that.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks for us all. Vincent started kindergarten, and work has been busy for both me and Ethan. In fact, he was away for most of the week and only returned last night.

“Daddy says it’s a surprise.” He jumps out of the bed and runs to the door. “Hurry up, Tara.” He slams the door, and I lay back on the bed. Only eight a.m. on a Saturday morning. A rainy Saturday morning where all I want to do is sleep, but my men need me. I reluctantly get out of bed and cringe at the sight of my reflection in the mirror. Ethan was insatiable when he got home last night, keeping me up until well past two in the morning.

After a quick shower, I put my hair up in a high ponytail, change into yoga pants and a long sleeve tee and step out of the bathroom.

I miss a step when I walk out. The room is filled with flowers. There are lilies and hydrangeas everywhere, in every color, but it’s the perfectly made bed that makes me smile. True to his word, he’s made the bed every day since we’ve been back home.

When I finally moved back to the penthouse, he carried me over the threshold and has spoiled me since. It was I who suggested he attend family therapy with Lindsay to figure out how best to navigate this for Vincent’s sake.

Lindsay has only recently started getting her overnight visits back. After the drama she caused, Ethan’s only contact with her was when they would meet outside to exchange Vincent. At first, she only got him a few hours at a time, and Earl had to go with them. Ethan was still so angry with her, we all agreed in therapy that for the time being, Lindsay should only contact me about Vincent.

My eyes land on a small white envelope on the pillow. My name is scribbled on it in Vincent’s messy handwriting.

‘Your boys are hungry. Meet us downstairs.’

I smile and put the card down. Before I walk out of the room, I smell one of the bouquets of flowers, and when I open the bedroom door, I find rose petals in all colors leading down the hall and down the stairs. The smell of the flowers gets stronger the closer I get to the first floor.

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