Chapter 44: Arianna
We make it back to the Dell Brant Building around midnight Monday. I’ve missed a day at the child spa. Dell missed the DNA test. Not that it matters.
We know who she belongs to. And it will never be me.
I’m not sure what will happen next. The driver helps us load our things in the elevator. The night doorman tips his hat and codes the elevator for the fortieth floor.
When the door closes, Dell pushes number four.
My floor.
Grace is asleep in the bucket. Carrie is in the penthouse, ready to handle her. Dell has already extended her nanny job. I heard him speak to her on his plane.
I guess this is what the morning after feels like. The awkward separation. The “I’ll call you.”
Except Dell never does.
I want to remind him what the Duchess said to me. To take care of Grace. Raise her as my own.
But that promise was based on a lie. I’m not Dell’s wife. I’m not his anything. Not even the babysitter.
As the elevator opens to my floor, I pull off the diamond ring. “I guess the ruse is over,” I say, passing it to Dell. “It worked.”
He takes the ring and stares at it.
I shoulder my duffel. I’m tired. I want to sleep.
I step out of the elevator.
“Arianna, wait!” Dell says.
I turn, expectant.
He holds up the garment bag with the white gown. “This is yours.”
I deflate inside. I want to tell him to keep it. Shove it somewhere. Up his ass, maybe. But I reach out and take it from him. “Thanks.”
The driver hits a button and the door closes. I keep standing there, waiting, wishing it would open again.
What did I expect?
I trudge back to my apartment. This is the worst. Only when you soar can you crash this hard.
When I step inside my apartment, there is a white envelope on the floor, slid beneath the door.
I set down my duffel and toss the garment bag across the back of the sofa.
Inside the envelope is a card.
Congratulations! You have been accepted into the DOMs. Our next gathering of Dell Brant’s exes will be held at the La Feria bar on the Upper West Side, August 3 at 2 p.m. sharp. Don’t worry about recognizing us. We will recognize you.
Oh. My. God.
One. How did they know?
Two. What the hell? I don’t want in their little group!
I storm to my bed and flop down on it. I don’t know what to do first. Laugh? Cry? Hit things?
Luckily, exhaustion wins. I’m out before I can do any of those.
I wake to my phone alarm, reminding me it’s time to start my Tuesday.
Might as well get up and begin the first day of my post-Dell life. There will be many more. In fact, all my days will be post-Dell. Because Dell is Dell.
I spot the DOMs card again. What a crock.
No way.
If I’m a Dell ex, I’ll do it alone.
***
A week passes. It’s horrible. I wonder how Grace is doing. Carrie hasn’t walked by the front of the spa. Nor has Dell. I stopped watching for them around Friday.
I try to move on. I find an adoption agency that accepts single mothers, but toss the packet after attending the first meeting. That doesn’t feel right either. The only baby I want to adopt is Grace.
On Wednesday, Taylor buzzes me to the front with the emergency get here right now pattern.
I sprint to the foyer and burst through the door in a complete panic. I have no idea what to expect. A fire? A crazed parent? Did Dell finally evict me?
But it’s Bernard. He’s holding Grace at arm’s length. She is screaming at the top of her lungs. Her diaper has leaked all over her outfit with yellow ooze.
Taylor looks relieved to see me. “He wouldn’t talk to anyone but you,” she says.
“That’s all right. Just fine,” I say. I reach in a drawer for a signature Del Gato Child Spa burp cloth and wrap Grace’s bottom. Then I take her from Bernard.
“What is going on? Where’s Carrie? And Dell?”
Bernard’s normally placid face is full of terror. “She quit. He left. Madam Arianna, this is NOT in my contract!”
I cuddle Grace against my cheek. “Shush now, baby girl. You’re okay.”
“He left no instructions. Gave me no assistance!” Bernard’s voice is full of anguish and confusion. “I have a mind to give notice!”
“You’re all right, Bernard,” I say in the same soothing tone I’m using with Grace. “Let’s go back and get the baby cleaned up. Would you like a cup of hot tea?”
“I might,” he says, wringing his hands as he follows me down the hall. “I had no idea what to do. She was screaming and smelling and screaming.”
I buzz us into the diaper room. “Sit right there, Bernard,” I say, pointing to a pristine white chair.
Penelope jumps from her stool. “What’s going on?”
“Can you fetch Bernard some tea from the break room?” I ask her. “He’s had a rough morning.”
She takes off as I lay Grace down on the changing pad. “How is Gracie-boo?” I ask. “Bad morning for you too?”
She reaches up with her hands to touch my face. Her eyes are wet with tears.
I sweep away the outfit, a pink one I don’t recognize, and the soiled diaper. I change her and pull a Del Gato Child Spa onesie from the cabinet. When she is settled, I turn to Bernard.
He sits, stiff as a board, looking anywhere but at us. He seems unhappy that he lost his calm facade.
Penelope returns with the tea. She passes it to him and I suggest she check on the baby rooms. She happily heads out again.
“So start at the beginning,” I say, picking up Grace. She’s happy now that she’s dry and changed. I could squeeze her forever.
“Mr. Brant has not been the same since returning from France,” Bernard says. “He will mind me saying it, but I can’t help it. He’s been terribly unpleasant, disorganized, and out of routine.”
“Do you know why?”
“No one has the slightest clue. I even spoke to the housekeeper about it, and you should know I am not one to gossip with the help.” He holds the string of his tea bag, bobbing it up and down.
Grace babbles and I rub her back, shushing her. I’m anxious to hear what Bernard has to say about Dell.
“Then he lost his temper with Miss Carrie this morning, and she said that was one too many times, and up and quit.” Bernard’s face contorts. “She handed the baby to me! ME!” He is overcome and can’t manage the tea anymore. I step forward and take it before he spills it on his hands.
“I tried to pass the baby back to Dell, but then HE left.” His hand flutters before his eyes as if he’s shielding them from a bright light. “I’m too old for this.”
“You’re not too old,” I argue.
“I am very set in my ways,” he says. “I simply cannot go through the process of finding another position. Bachelors are very hard to train.”
“Where is Dell now?” I ask.
“His office, I assume,” Bernard says. “He won’t take any calls, though.”
We could go there, I think, but maybe that isn’t productive. He probably has layers of security and assistants.
“Let’s just go back to the penthouse,” I say. “I’ll stay with you until Dell returns.”
He calms considerably at that. “I’ll be happy to warm the bottles. I do that well.”
“You do,” I say. “You make the very best bottles.”
Penelope walks in during that last line and turns right around and heads out again. We can’t hog the diaper room much longer. Someone will need it.
“Let’s go, Bernard,” I say. “Take your tea.”
He picks up the mug. I leave Grace’s dirty outfit on the counter. Someone else can handle it.
Bernard seems to pull himself together on the ride up. “I’m dreadfully sorry for inconveniencing you, Madam Arianna.”
“Just Arianna,” I say, still smarting that I’m a madam to Carrie’s miss.
“Yes, of course. Arianna.”
He buzzes us into the penthouse.
Longing hits me like a brick wall when we step inside. The smells, the perfect room. The sofa where I agreed to go to his bedroom, before Grace interrupted.
“I’ll take it from here,” I tell Bernard, and head down the hall to the nursery.
It’s been transformed. The big bed is gone, as well as all the old furniture. The set I saw in the baby superstore is here. The crib. Changing table. And a real rocker.
He chose the set I loved.
I sit in the new chair. There are toys. Dozens of them. Stuffed animals and a baby gym and even the soft lamb I saw that day. I pick it up and hand it to Grace. Her arms wave excitedly.
Everything is the same soft green. “I love it in here,” I tell Grace.
Out of curiosity, I stand up and cross into the bathroom. There are more baby items here as well. A wipe warmer. A baby bathtub. A little net with baby water toys inside.
Then I visit the adjoining room. It’s the same, the bed and books and dresser.
But the clock. It’s gone.
“Your father is very strange and secretive,” I say to Grace.
I’m so happy to hold her, so overcome. I go back to the rocker and cradle her in my arms. “If I could stay here forever, I totally would,” I tell her. “If only you could be mine.”
After Max howls for half an hour, Bernard relents and lets the dog come to the nursery to lie on the rug at our feet. The three of us spend hours playing with toys. I practice teaching Grace to say “dog” although she just babbles.
Bernard brings me lunch in the nursery and a bottle for Grace. He seems to be able to predict when she’ll want one. Carrie must have established a routine.
Carrie. She’s good. One of the best nanny candidates I know. What happened?
When Grace goes down for a nap in her beautiful crib, I close the door and dial her number.
She answers on the second ring.
“Arianna, I know why you’re calling. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Not one more minute.”
I glance over at Grace to make sure she’s good and out. “What happened?”
“He was awful. Just awful. I didn’t know him well before you two left town, but the Dell I saw when he got back was unbearable. You’ll never get anyone to nanny for him if he’s like that.”
“What did he do?”
“Just charged around like an angry bull. I couldn’t do anything right. I didn’t hold her right. She was hungry. She was wet. She shouldn’t be crying. Why isn’t she sleeping? I simply could not take it.”
I don’t know what to say. I know Carrie is a good caregiver. I’ve seen it myself.
“Did you get an idea of what made him act that way? He wasn’t like that on the trip.”
Of course, I was screwing him. Maybe that helped.
“No clue, Arianna,” she says. “All I know is that nothing I did could measure up to some impossible standard in his head. So I quit.”
“Okay, Carrie. This doesn’t impact the work you do for me. I think you’re great.”
“Good. Thank you. Good luck.”
I shove the phone in my pocket.
So weird. Why was Dell so mad? Because Grace was his? Did he not want her after all? I’ll speak to him. Maybe we can work out an arrangement where she lives with me. He can visit her when it suits him. Like he did with his dog Max. Morning breakfast and a few commands in the evening.
I’ll do anything he wants to keep her.
The afternoon passes slowly. My anxiety rises as the clock ticks and a confrontation with Dell seems imminent. I rehearse my speech. Honoring the Duchess’s wishes. Keep custody informal. I’ll just be downstairs.
Five o’clock comes and goes. I wonder if I’ll need to stay the night. Great, I get to babysit for another one of his dates. He can initiate another member into the DOMs.
Still, I grit my teeth and decide to stick it out. I have a higher purpose now. The baby is more important.
Grace and I do tummy time on her new play mat. She’s already holding her head up better. Occasionally she tips to one side as though she’s ready to roll over. I can’t wait to see her first milestones.
Seven o’clock.
I decide I’ll have to take Grace with me downstairs to get my overnight bag. If Dell has skipped town rather than face his obligations, I’ll bring her with me to the spa tomorrow. I’ll use the wrap and wear her.
Moms have carried babies in the fields for centuries. I can haul her to my stupidly easy job. With Maria as a floater and Taylor taking more responsibility during my absences, I’m needed a lot less than I was.
I’ve just shoved a fresh diaper and a travel pack of wipes in my purse to take with me when I hear the front door open.
“Good evening, sir,” I hear Bernard say. “I trust your day went well.”
“Where’s the baby?” Dell asks. “Did she cry all day or did that nanny actually do something for once?”
“Actually…” Bernard says, but trails off.
Dell is coming down the hall. His stomping footsteps could be heard on Mars.
He walks in talking, his voice gruff, as if he’s continuing a conversation. “And furthermore, I take great offense at you threatening to leave a vulnerable baby without a proper —” He sees me and cuts off.
I’m shocked at him. He’s nothing like the Dell I knew. His hair is askew, as if he’s been unable to stop running his hands through it all day. He has no tie. A few buttons are undone.
I don’t think he shaved today. Or possibly yesterday or the day before.
I’m okay with that. It’s sexy.
Just not Dell.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You look like you’ve been through the mill.”
He backs away. “What are you doing here?”
“You ran off your nanny and Bernard needed help.”
Dell continues walking back until he hits the far wall. “Bernard, I did not authorize you to contact this — this woman!”
Wow. I’ve been downgraded from babysitter even. I’m just a gender.
My practiced speech goes out the window. I’m as angry as I’ve ever been.
“What did I do to you?” I shout. “Other than help? Saved you when Grace arrived. Got you set up with what you needed. Got you a nanny. Which you then ran off. Went all over the godforsaken globe to find her mother!”
I want to add “slept with you,” but I know the butler is near.
“You are an ass!” I say. “Worse than an ass! You kick the people who try to help!”
Grace begins crying from her crib. “And now we’ve upset the baby!”
I head over to her. “Shush now, sweet girl,” I say. “I’m here.”
But she won’t stop, her face quickly blooming red. I pick her up. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t leave her with him.
I hold Grace on my shoulder, patting her back. I have nothing else to say to Dell at the moment. I’ll talk to him when he is calm. Maybe after his brandy. Or a good night’s sleep, more than four measly hours.
I refuse to face him, walking in bouncy steps to settle Grace. I can’t think about what will happen to her if I’m not here to help.
“Arianna,” he says, and his voice is so different, so broken, that I whirl around.
“Dell?”
He drops into a chair by the door. He leans forward, his head in his hands.
Something is definitely wrong.
I relent and move closer to him.
He still doesn’t look up.
“Hey.” I kneel down, the baby close to my chest. “What’s happened? Did the Duchess contact you again? Does she want the baby back? Has that Camellia woman blackmailed you?”
He shakes his head. “No. I just can’t have you here. It’s too hard.”
Really? Uggh.
I stand up, my concern evaporating.
“What is hard, Dell? Having an ex around? Does it cramp your bachelor style? Nobody’s stopping you from screwing every debutante in town. I’m not stopping you. I just want Grace.”
He barks out a rueful laugh. “Grace. Right. That’s all you ever wanted. You were even willing to sacrifice your high and mighty Brown University cherry to get her.”
I want to slap him, hurt him the way he’s hurting me. But I have the baby. All I can do is back away.
“You are awful,” I say. “Horrible and disgusting. I should have called CPS on the first day.”
“Would have saved me a lot of trouble,” he says, his voice bitter. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, and I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”
For a moment, I’m sure the ground has fallen from beneath my feet.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” he says. “But it’s pointless. You want the baby. So just go. Take her to the fourth floor. Raise her. Just do what you have to do. I just can’t see you. I can’t stand all the things we could have been.”
He stands up. Heads for the door. “I’ll draw up some paperwork. Shared custody. Whatever is necessary.” He looks back at me. He’s in control now, his decision made. His face has returned to the boardroom mask. “I will provide for her.”
“Dell! Wait!”
My god. He’s just assuming everything! My mind is reeling. Dell Brant? In love? With me?
“What else do you want?” he asks. “I’ve given you everything.”
“No, you haven’t,” I say. I walk up to him, slowly, as if I’m wading through a dream.
We’re close now. I can smell him, woodsy aftershave and expensive fabric. He might look a wreck, but he’s still Dell underneath.
His gaze levels me. I could shrink back from his stiffness, his professional distance. But I don’t.
His voice is gruff. “What, then?” he asks. “Is your trust fund insufficient?”
“Cap’n Crunch,” I say.
“What?”
“Cap’n Crunch,” I repeat.
“Bernard can fetch it for —”
“Every day,” I cut in. “Every morning. And I want you to pour it for me. Not Bernard. And one day, we’ll introduce our favorite cereal to Grace.”
I look down at Grace. “And I want you to promise never to poison her with the peanut butter flavor —”
I can’t say more, because Dell is kissing me. He’s heard what I’ve said. And he’s understood.
I’ve cut through his boardroom facade, his game face, his layers.
He keeps kissing me, my face, my shoulder, then Grace’s head. She laughs at this, reaching up for him.
“I love you, Dell Brant,” I say, then whisper, “Hasmund McDonald.”
He groans, but keeps kissing us, me, then the baby, then me again. “I should never have told you that.”
I press my palm against his cheek. “I am proud to be the keeper of your secrets,” I say, then look down at Grace. “And hers.”
“And I want to be the man you trust.”
“I will work on that,” I say. “Just don’t give me any reason to doubt you.”
“I never will.”
He kisses me then, and it’s a different sort of kiss.
It’s a kiss that tells me that he’s accepted my gift. My innocence, long delayed, slain into submission by his seduction.
And he’s accepted the gift of Grace. The baby he had no idea was his from the woman who had never truly known passion until he showed her.
The kiss goes on and on. It’s not the first kiss, my wake from slumber. And it’s not the second kiss, thwarted by circumstance.
And it’s not the kiss that said yes to giving in to passion, growing up, and trusting that he was not the man my father was, or his father was, or any of those sperm donors at my child spa.
And it won’t be the last kiss. Definitely not that.
It’s a kiss that says we’ll have a lifetime of them. And Cap’n Crunch. Panda Pop on phone calls. Dog walks. Late-night workouts with earbuds.
Grace protests being squished between us. We laugh and look down at her. Max jumps up now that the angry voices are gone, his tail going nuts in a happy wag.
This is what a family looks like. Maybe not the way anyone would have planned. Maybe not the most traditional. But forged in fire and burning brightly in love.