Page 13 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
"I've got someone on the other line with more brains in their head. I gotta go," I say, grinning, because I somehow feel like this round of our little sparring match goes to me. I press the button to switch to the other line, where the little red light has been blinking for a while.
"Eric? Who is it?" On the side, I scribble a note on my pad, which has the company name ARS Group printed in large letters in the corner. An abbreviation for Alex Rodgers Group. I note that we need to step up our efforts for the shop on 4th Street. Jake is not getting his hands on that one. This is a race I want to win. Whatever it takes.
"Sir, excuse the interruption. It's just... the shop on 4th Street," Eric stammers, a little uncertainly.
"What about it?" I ask hurriedly, a bad feeling churning in my stomach that he's bringing it up right after Jake did.
"I just got an email with the report from the guy we sent to make another, higher offer." He pauses. "No luck. He also said that the flower shop is getting on in years and the owner made it pretty clear what she thought of him."
A flower shop with a feisty owner? I quickly scan my notes. There's nothing in here about it being a flower shop. Everywhere it just says retail. The issue only landed on my desk three weeks ago because none of my people seemed able to handle it.
Could it be that... no, that would be a huge coincidence. I dismiss the thought and wonder instead if feisty flower shop owners are my new type.
And so what if they are? This is about business now. Maybe I can work my charm on this woman, too. And maybe that'll get us somewhere. But I'd have to do it without revealing that I'm the head of ARS Group. Playing with fire, but it might just work.
"I'm going to pay the shop a visit. Right now," I say to Eric, hang up the phone, gather my things, and hurry out of my office.
Let's see where my charm gets me.
Chapter 5
Beth
I unwrap the burger from the paper I got from the Big Burger four blocks away during my lunch break. They're simply the best.
At least, they are when you're like me and have absolutely no time for anything since my little Ben came into the world. He's almost three months old now, sleeping at the moment, and...
"Mmm," I murmur, inhaling the aroma that fills my kitchen after opening the takeout container, making my mouth water. And when I unwrap the burger from its paper, the smell gets even more intense.
I savor this little moment to myself in my kitchen, place the burger on the plate in front of me, take a deep breath, andwonder when the last time was that I actually cooked a real meal for myself or slept for more than two hours straight.
The reflection in the hallway mirror answered that question mercilessly as I walked past it on my way in, gave Veronica a kiss on the cheekâshe's running the shop for me during my lunch break and was just watching a sleeping Ben while I took the burger from the delivery guy. I don't even have time for a four-block walk.
But that's okay, because this is my life now. I take a big sip, quickly flipping through the newspaper Veronica left here, and when my eyes land on the word "fundraiser" along with a picture in the society pages, I nearly choke. The picture doesn't show anyone I know, but I realize in that moment that the fateful encounter was almost exactly a year ago. To the day, in fact.
Nothing's been the same since. Because that night, after which I was thrown out like trash, wasn't without consequences. I got pregnant. By that asshole named Alex.
I struggled with myself for a long time, sinking into a valley of tears and despair that I only escaped thanks to Veronica. Then, sometime later, when the fog in my mind cleared, two things became crystal clear: I could never abort a life growing inside me. I could never bring myself to do it. And I would never go looking for the father and make any claims after the way he had me thrown out of his house.
Sure, times have been tough, and when I look at my bank account and the shop's sales trends, I've had my doubts morethan once about whether that was really the right decision. But my pride can't be bought, and that's how it's going to stay.
I take a deep breath, push the thoughts aside, and try to savor this little moment with my burger. I pick it up, bring it to my mouth, smell that wonderful sauce, and...
I hear Ben crying!
I take a deep breath and lower the untouched burger, because nothing is more important than my little treasure, whom I wouldn't give up for anything in the world. He may have turned my life upside down and made it infinitely more complicated, but I'm still so happy to have him.
I go to the cradle where he's lying, and as I come into his line of sight, he stops crying, seems to look at me, and babbles something. I can't help but smile.
"You get your charm from your daddy. And your eyes," I say lovingly, but I still feel the words send a pang through my stomach. I really should get out of the habit of talking about his father and just forget him. Maybe his blue eyes will still change; that's something that can happen with babies. But they remind me of him daily.
Ben seems to be hungry, because his mouth is already searching, and his little nose seems to smell where the milk is, as he instinctively turns his little head toward my breast.
"Lunchtime, sweetie?" I ask gently. "Coming right up." I sit down on the small couch with him in my arms, bare my breast, latch him on, and stroke him lovingly while he drinks in big gulps.
My eyes almost close as I start to nod off, but I jolt awake and straighten up again. What kind of mother would I be if I fell asleep while breastfeeding and dropped my child? But that would probably fit the overall picture. We've moved into the small apartment above the shop, which I was able to get for a reduced price because I also take on the janitorial duties, like mopping the hallway and cleaning the section of street in front of my shop.
The main reason for this is that I want to keep my source of income and my shop. But if I have to commute back and forth every day and hire more staff besides my one part-time helper, not to mention pay for childcare, then none of it is profitable anymore. Basically, it only works because Veronica helps me so much and has taken the night shifts at her waitressing job. What would I do without her? She doesn't complain and just did it of her own accord, saying the tips are better after she happened to fill in for a colleague almost a year ago. Besides, she only lives a block away and really helps wherever she can. And yet, the apartment only has one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom.
