Chapter Eight

 

Gavin

 

It was bittersweet, firing Stephanie. She’d been an excellent employee, and an amazing assistant. I knew she’d be impossible to replace. I couldn’t believe she’d betrayed me the way she had, and just like Caroline, she was given papers to sign that prohibited her from mentioning my name, or my company’s name. I added Stella’s name and Caroline’s into the order, just for assurance.

The look on Isabella’s face when I told her Stella had left broke my heart. She’d written her a sweet note, explaining she had to help her father, and wasn’t sure if she’d ever return. I appreciated her protecting Isabella from the truth, but the problem was, she didn’t know the entire truth herself.

“I’m going to the studio,” Isabella announced, or Izzy, as she now liked to be called.

“Paint me a masterpiece,” I smiled.

“Daddy?” she asked, stopping at my desk with a sullen look.

“Yes, dear?” I looked up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

“Is Stella coming back?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, swallowing hard to evacuate the lump growing in my throat.

“I miss her,” she said sadly as her chin dropped to her chest.

“I do, too,” I replied.

“Can’t you go after her?” she asked.

Her eyes were wide with hope. It broke me in half to kill that hope. “I can’t,” I said.

“Why not?” she pushed.

“She has things she needs to take care of,” I answered, hoping that would be the end of this discussion.

No such luck; Izzy was a fighter. I’d never seen her grow so attached to anyone before. The other women, or hired whores as Stella called them, they never bonded with Isabella. I hated to see her lose someone she loved, someone who loved her.

“You could bring her father here, and then she could help him, and wouldn’t have to leave,” she insisted.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said calmly.

“You never try!” she yelled.

She’d never raised her voice to me before. My heart raced, my bottom lip trembled, and my body started to shake as her bright-blue eyes welled up with tears. “If you loved her, you’d make her come back,” she sobbed.

I pulled her in close to my chest for a tight embrace. Her little body was limp in my arms, shaking from her loud sobs. “I do love her,” I whispered.

My hand smoothed over her silky blonde hair as she started to calm down. Her eyes were so bright from the tears they weakened my knees just to look into them. “I miss her too,” I said softly.

“Then fix this,” she pouted.

“I will do my best,” I offered up a forced smile, and then winked in her direction.

She giggled. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Oh. Don’t you worry about me, I’m tough. You have a right to be upset,” I assured her, and then patted her on the back.

She picked up her paint supplies and smiled as she turned to walk away. The lump in my throat had grown so wide, I could barely swallow. My eyes burnt, my chest ached, and my mind was reeling as it struggled to come up with a fix.

The doorbell rang, pulling me from my sulking. I rushed to open it, hopeful for a split second that it could be Stella. Instead, I was met with Greg Clark standing in the doorway, his potbelly pushing out several inches from his belt line, and the little hair he had left blowing wildly in the wind. “Greg, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I said, hoping the look of disappointment wasn’t too apparent on my face.

“I’m just making a friendly check-in house call,” he said, making his way through the doorway and into my house.

I wasn’t in the mood for company, but I couldn’t be rude. This man had looked out for my best interests for years, protecting not only me, but my daughter as well. “Come in. Can I get you a drink?” I asked.

“No. I won’t take up too much of your time,” he promised.

Knowing Greg, I knew that wasn’t true. He was long-winded, and it seemed to take him forever to get to the point. This was not the day I wanted to be stuck listening to him. Not today.

“I’ve been worried about you, Gavin,” he said, getting right to the point, and shocking me.

“Worried about me?” I laughed.

“Yes. It’s been three weeks since Stella left, since you fired Stephanie, and you haven’t reached out to me about replacing either,” he said sternly.

“I don’t think I plan to,” I said.

“You need an assistant, and Isabella still needs a mother, unless something’s changed. Did you find someone suitable outside of the contract?” he asked.

I couldn’t tell if his tone was serious or sarcastic. “No. I’ve not found anyone,” I said.

“Then we need to get to work,” he said, his eyes widening with excitement.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I admitted. He tilted his head as he stared at me. “Things just… didn’t go as planned,” I added.  “I have Martin prepared to take over Stephanie’s position. He isn’t as nice to look at, but he’s just as smart.”

“Great. That’s great,” Greg said.

“As far as Isabelle, I can’t do this to her again,” I sighed.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I knew he didn’t get it; hell, I didn’t get it myself. I’d had several other women in and out of Isabella’s life, but they weren’t Stella. She was different, not just for Isabella, but for me as well. Greg had worked the contract to ensure that I’d get a richer, more fulfilling experience than the other times. Maybe he’d worked it too well.

“I don’t want her to get that close to someone again, just to be abandoned and hurt,” I said, my voice starting to shake.

“Well. If it’s Stella she wants, she’s still under obligation by the contract. I spoke to her attorney, Tiffany, and she is staying with her for the time being. I can send an order for her to return with the threat of a lawsuit for breach of contract,” he suggested.

I sighed and pushed my head in my hands. “I don’t want her to be here if she doesn’t want to be,” I said.

“It’s a job; why does it matter what she wants?” he asked.

I lifted my head from my hands and let my eyes linger on his.

“Oh. You developed feelings for this woman,” he said quietly.

“I did,” I admitted for the first time aloud.

“You created this contract to give Isabella what she deserved, right?” he asked.

I nodded.

“And without the feelings, the connection, it didn’t work. So, you found someone who you and she both connected with, both developed true feelings for. Maybe the contract is unnecessary,” he said.

I stared into my attorney’s beady, dark eyes. He was well over fifty, married thirty years to the same woman, and appeared happy. “The contract kept things from getting messy,” I said.

He laughed. “Yes, and how did that work out for you?” he chuckled. “Look. Life is messy. If there is no love, sure, there’s no mess. But without love, there’s no life.”

They were wise words from a wise man. He was right.

“Thanks for coming, Greg,” I said, patting him on his wide back.

“You’re running me off, eh?” he teased, standing with a loud grunt.

“Yes. I made a promise to my little girl tonight, and you just helped me figure out how to keep that promise,” I smiled.

“Well. I don’t know what I did, but I’m glad to hear Isabella won’t be let down,” he returned the pat to my back, and then waddled toward the door.

“How’s Marge?” I asked, knowing he and his wife had a big anniversary coming up soon.

“She’s a nag. Won’t let me have salt, lunchmeat, and even took my bacon away. Says she wants me to live longer or something. I figured she’d be sick of me by now,” he joked.

I laughed. I knew how much he loved his wife, and even while trying to tease her, he couldn’t help but smile. That twinkle in his eye was love. “Has it been a messy thirty years?” I asked lovingly.

He turned at the door and smiled. “I wear rubber boots most of the time just to keep my shoes clean,” he laughed.

“Thanks, Greg,” I said.

“Anytime,” he said, and then he left, leaving me to work on keeping my promise to Isabella. I was going to fix this.