Five
Natasha
“So you made the decision to pull Clara out of full-day preschool,” Carter said.
“I did. I dropped her off and I could see how anxious she was, so I talked to her teacher about it. She told me her preschool payment debits automatically from an account, so make sure that payment lowers the next time it comes out,” I said.
“Anxious? What do you mean?” he asked.
“It was subtle, but it was there. I don’t think Clara was adjusting well to preschool, and that’s normal. As a three-year old, that shouldn’t be expected of her. I talked with her teacher and then told Clara I’d be back during lunch to pick her up and her eyes lit up. And she wasn’t overtired or anything when I got her, so I think this schedule will stick a little better.”
“Was she acting up in school or something?” he asked.
“Not at all. But her teachers did say she plays by herself a lot, which doesn’t fit her personality. Full-time days in that type of environment aren’t normal for a kid her age. She’s still in a stage where she can be easily overwhelmed by things going on around her. Sights. Sounds. Smells. The presence of people. That wanes with age, but she isn’t there yet.”
“You think it’s smart for her to be in school at all then?”
“For her? Yes. Her teachers said she was much more social today when I went to pick her up at lunch time. She needs friends and she needs to learn how to interact with them. And then she needs to come home, take a nap, and decompress from being around so many people for so long.”
“Sounds almost like an introvert,” he said.
“And Clara very well might be one. But for now, this schedule works. I’ll keep an eye on it to make sure it continues to work, and if something happens I’ll toggle it again. If going everyday is too much, I’ll take her three times a week. We’ll find something that works for the little person she is.”
“What about the boys? How did they do today?”
“They were good. Very tired after school. I laid them down on the couch for about an hour.”
“Tired?” he asked. “They usually come home bouncing off the walls.”
“It isn’t the large cues you have to watch, but the smaller ones. Yes, they were combative and running around, but they were also rubbing their eyes. They couldn’t talk to me without holding back a yawn. All of those are cues that they are overtired.”
“When you said ‘overtired’, what do you mean?”
“That they’ve blown past the point of being tired and have gotten into a state of being angry because they can’t do anything about being tired.”
“So you laid them down,” he said.
“I did. Only for an hour. I woke them up and they weren’t happy about it, but I placed some milk in front of them for them to have once they woke up. They drank it and felt much better, then I told them to dive into their homework whenever they were ready.”
“Did the fight you on it?”
“A little,” I said. “Joshua wanted to watch cartoons so I told him he could watch a cartoon, then he had to read. Nathaniel did he times tables while the television was going, so when the cartoon was done I muted the television instead of turning it off.”
“I’ve been told that distracts kids. Did it not distract them?” he asked.
“Not really. Joshua was a little distracted, but Nathaniel worked right through it. I’m going to keep an eye on that, but for kids born into this technological age where everything is beeping and flashing and making some sort of noise, it’s becoming more common for them to need that constant stimulation to stay focused.”
“Whatever works,” he said with a sigh. “They just seem like three totally different kids.”
“They’re the same kids, but they’re understood now. That’s the difference,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad they haven’t chased you off yet.”
“They’re good kids, Mr. Marshall-”
“Carter,” he said. “You can call me Carter.”
“They’re good kids, Carter. There’s no such thing as a ‘bad kid’. Only a misled and misunderstood one.”
“Sounds like a good philosophy to have,” he said. “Did you do a lot of work with kids in Africa?”
“That was my sole purpose. When I was attached to Doctors Without Borders, they sent our crew into an area that needed serious pediatric help. My goal was to detect and help develop plans for the children in Bria with developmental delays.”
“Bria. Why does that sound familiar?” he asked.
“It’s a place in the Central African Republic that’s been ravaged by war. They’ve been in the news a few times over the past several months,” I said.
“Did you witness any of that kind of thing? Or did that happen in a part of Bria you weren’t in?”
I brought my wine glass to my lips and cast my eyes out the window. The expanse of the backyard was beautiful, but seeing it blanketed by the peaceful nighttime gave me a sense of peace. There was no gunfire off in the distance and there were no cries of mothers who had lost their children. I mindlessly sipped my wine, trying to figure out how I was going to answer his question.
But I really didn’t want to.
Just like he didn’t want to talk about his wife, I didn’t want to talk about my time in Africa.
At least, not that part of it.
“It’s in the past,” I said curtly.
I watched Carter nod as he took a sip of his wine.
“You got your undergraduate in Early Childhood Education.”
“I did,” I said.
“Have you ever thought about pursuing a higher level of education with it?” he asked.
“I have. I’ve always wanted to go back and get my Master’s so I could broaden my career potential, but financially it isn’t possible.”
“Not even with a six-figure salary?” Carter asked with a grin.
“Even though you’re a billionaire, I’m not out for your money. And since you've hired me full-time, the last thing I’m going to be doing is trying to balance your children and my education. If anything, I’ll save as much as I can and go back eventually.”
“Eventually?” he asked.
“Yes. Eventually. I’ve still got student loans I have to pay off now. I need to be out of debt before I take on a Master’s degree.”
“Makes sense.”
“Enough about me though,” I said. “Tell me about you.”
“I’m not a very interesting topic,” Carter said.
“I doubt that. You started your own marketing company and built it from the ground up.”
“You want to hear my success story?” he asked.
“No. I want to hear how you met my cousin and got him roped into this mess,” I said with a smirk.
“Ah, Logan. He’s a good man.”
“That he is. I love him greatly.”
“So the two of you are close?” he asked.
“We are. We grew up together on the outskirts of San Francisco.”
“What kind of cousin is he?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“First cousin, second cousin? Third cousin twice removed?”
“Oh,” I said with a giggle. “He’s my first cousin. His mother and my father were brother and sister.”
“Were?” he asked.
“You have a knack for pushing the spotlight onto someone else, don’t you?” I asked.
“What did you mean by ‘were’?”
I sighed and lowered my gaze into my wine glass.
“My father died in a construction accident when I was twelve,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” Carter said.
“It was hard. My mother grieved heavily and was always shipping me off to Logan’s house. I spent many weekends there so my mother could get back up on her feet.”
“Does your mother still live in the area?” he asked.
“No. She died a few days before I graduated from college.”
“What happened?”
“She killed herself.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I felt something warm settle on my knee and I opened my eyes. I saw Carter’s hand wrapping around my leg, his thumb stroking the top of my jeans. I could feel his body heat penetrating the denim I was wearing.
It sent shivers up my legs to intense it ached my hips.
“Look it’s… people go through things. We all have our pasts. What’s important is how we choose to continue and press forward,” I said.
“Wise words coming from such a young woman,” Carter said.
“Young is relative to what a person has experienced in their lifetime.”
I looked up into Carter’s eyes and took in the beautiful green they housed. I finished off my glass of wine and set the glass between my legs. His hand drifted up my thigh, caressing my skin as I watched him travel farther. Lower thigh. Middle thigh. Upper thigh. My hip.
Then I watched his fingers move to the glass between my legs before he plucked it from its threshold.
“I’ll take this,” Carter said.
I let go of the breath I was holding as he got up and walked away. I closed my eyes and took a few shallow breaths, trying to steady the uneasiness in my gut. It had been years since I’d felt this way around a man. And of course, it had to be my boss.
“Would you care for another glass?”
“Oh, no. I’m okay,” I said.
“You sure?”
“Positive,” I said.
“Suit yourself.”
I heard him pour himself a glass of wine before he came back over to the couch. He sat down next to me, but he was so close our knees were connected. I felt my heart slamming against my chest. My hands were beginning to sweat. I looked up into Carter’s eyes and smiled, watching as he relaxed into the couch.
Holy hell, that man could wear a suit.
“I met Logan while the two of us were in college,” he said.
“So you went to Caltech as well,” I said.
“I did. We were frat buddies.”
“Oh man, you were one of those guys I hated in college,” I said.
“It was an academic fraternity. Not one of those fuckboy parties.”
“Did you just say ‘fuckboy’?” I asked.
“It’s the only accurate term to describe them. Logan had this side-business going while he was in school. He was helping the small businesses around the area advertise in a way that attracted the heavy student population. We got to talking one night over some beers and I told him he needed someone to set him up a website. Something that would get his name out there. Something that would pop up if people searched for him on the internet.”
“So you’re not the marketing guru,” I said.
“Nope. that’s Logan’s alley. I’ve picked up some tools of the trade, but that’s more his wheelhouse. He deals with advertising and marketing, and I deal with everything that comes with internet marketing.”
“Is that not the same thing?” I asked.
“Nope. Logan does things like commercials and billboards and works with creative minds to come up with slogans and campaigns. I deal with websites and social media and GoFundMe accounts and YouTube videos.”
“So, Logan does the traditional marketing, and you do the modern marketing.”
“That’s… actually a really good way to put it,” he said.
“Sounds like the two of you are a good team.”
“We are. I sit in the CEO chair, but we own everything fifty-fifty. That company wouldn’t be what it is today had it not been for your cousin. But don’t tell him I told you that. It’ll go to his head.”
“Trust me, I know what you’re talking about. You pay him any compliment and he’ll bring it up in every conversation for the next month.”
“So he does that to you, too?” he asked.
“Yep. He’s always done it. So I deliver his compliments a little underhanded. If I think he’s done a good job, I don’t tell him that. I say something like ‘it’s better than what you did last week’.”
“Ah, so you throw shade.”
“For a man in his thirties, you sure do talk like a millennial,” I said.
“I have to. We market heavily to that crowd. If I’m not hip with the lingo, we sink.”
“Now you sound like a dad,” I said, giggling.
A comfortable silence settled on us and I could feel his eyes taking me in. He was a powerful force, that much I was figuring out. I looked up at him and found a grin creeping across his cheeks. Like he knew a secret I didn’t and was waiting for me to figure something out.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Carter said.
“No really. What is it?”
“Just a fleeting thought.”
“Do I even wanna know?” I asked.
“Maybe some other time,” he said.
I felt a blush tint my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why I was blushing. I cleared my throat and stood up, desperate to put some space between us. He was magnetic, and I was falling prey to his field. I felt like a spaceship being helplessly dragged into a planet’s gravitational pull. I cleared my throat and smiled down at him, then watched as he stood to his feet.
I would never get over how tall this man really was.
“Let me walk you to the door,” Carter said.
Then his hand fell onto the small of my back.
He escorted me all the way to my car and watched as I drove away. It wasn’t until I turned onto the main road that I felt like I could breathe. The tension in that house! Hopefully it wasn’t only me who could feel it.
I got to my apartment and was shocked to find all of my furniture in its place, and I smiled as I walked over to my couch.
I flopped down onto it and closed my eyes, reveling in how comfortable it was.
Though I had to admit, it did feel a little emptier than I remembered.