The weekend is controlled chaos. The girls want for nothing, yet I still found myself with a list of items to purchase before school started. After hour three of Zinnie trying on no less than a hundred outfits, I found myself wishing I had hired a personal shopper to have everything delivered to the house. I’m quite sure I vetoed more outfits than I approved. Jesus, there was an outfit that I swear made her look like she could be Sam’s age. I’m not going to get through these teenage years unscathed.
Every free minute Sam had this weekend was spent studying. She mentioned being behind, but I don’t think I realized to what extent. I haven’t been able to pinpoint if she is truly behind or if she is putting more pressure on herself than warranted. My hope is that, with the girls starting school, her time constrictions will open some. I make a mental note to talk to Finn about her work schedule. I don’t want her pulled into so many directions. Every part of her adult life has been hard work. I want to make this chapter as easy for her as possible.
“Alright,” Sam says, handing the girls their lunches. Today is the first day of classes. Zinnie begged to go to school on her own. I finally relented, but only because she will have security discreetly following her. I don’t want to alarm her, but she is never totally out on her own.
The four of us take the lift down, after stopping on Finn’s floor to show off the new outfits and uniforms. Zinnie turns left to head to her school. Sam, Poppy, and I are driven to Poppy’s school where we find a long line of kids being walked in. There are a couple of dads here, but mostly moms and nannies dropping off their kids. Sam and I meet Poppy’s teacher, and before we can get a hug or even a pat on the arm telling us we will be okay, she’s gone. Off to a brightly colored rug on the floor where already she is making a friend.
“Well that was like a knife to the gut,” I grunt, closing the car door behind me. “You think she would at least have made sure we were alright before darting off to do her own thing.”
Sam smiles and her hand lands on mine, squeezing it.
“You will be just fine,” she assures me. “You would rather have that than tears and fits at being abandoned.”
“I suppose. But a little something to acknowledge what I’m going through isn’t too much to ask. Fancy some breakfast?”
“I would love to, but I have to get to class. I have to present a paper. It’s half my grade for the semester, and I’m already behind.”
I work to keep the disappointment off my face. “First the girls. Now you. Guess I’ll have to find Finn for some companionship.” She laughs, and my cock twitches at the delightful sound. It’s hearty and airy with just the right melody.
The day moves by with ease. We haven’t had any more hacking issues. The ten million appears to have been a sound investment. Elise held up her end of the bargain. After the threat was eliminated, Mask created a shield that has, so far, been impenetrable.
Because I got to drop off the kids today, I promised Finn he could pick up Poppy. I’m pretty sure he looked at his watch no less than a dozen times in our last meeting.
By the time I arrive at Zinnie’s favorite restaurant, she, Poppy, Sam, and Finn are already waiting for me. Poppy takes one large breath when she sees me and then spends the next hour releasing it in a play-by-play recall of her day. Zinnie waits patiently for Pops to get all her stories out of the way, and as we walk back to our building, I finally hear how hers went.
Until today, I was never grateful for small things, like hearing your kids made friends, liked their school, hearing about every bit of the tedium of their day. I wonder if my parents felt this way? I doubt it. I’m pretty sure the nanny dropped me off on my first day of school.
“Sam?” A deep voice stops our advance.
“Professor Blume,” she says with surprise.
“Zeke, please. I didn’t know you had kids,” he says with what sounds like disappointment.
“I’m Zinnie. She’s our nanny,” Zinnie offers with a deviant smile and nudges Sam closer to him with her shoulder.
“What kind of name is Zeke?” I ask from the corner of my mouth.
“The kind of name that fits a man like that,” Finn says appreciatively. Am I missing something? He’s about my age. I guess he is what some would call good-looking.
“Talk about wanting to stay after school. I’d like to beat his erasers,” Finn says under his breath, warranting an elbow to the ribs from Zinnie.
“And this is my boss, Walt,” Sam says.
He nods his head at me, and I level him with a glare that I hope conveys the depths to which I will fuck him up if he even thinks of acting on his lust for Sam. His eyes shine as if he is accepting a challenge. I take the bait.
I place my hand on the small of Sam’s back and give her a slight nudge forward, letting her know we need to be going.
“Well, it was lovely seeing you. I’ll see you in class on Wednesday,” Sam offers with smile.
“I look forward to it. Make time to stop by my office. We can see how your paper is evolving.”
“My times don’t match your office hours. I planned to email a draft.”
“You have my number. Text me a time you are free, and I’ll work my schedule around yours. Want to make sure you take advantage of all available opportunities afforded to you. You’re my keynote speaker, after all. Nice to meet you young ladies.” He winks at the girls and I clench my fist to keep from poking him in the eye.
“Oh my God, Sam! He was hot,” Zinnie says, tugging on her arm and walking backwards for a minute to catch a glimpse of him walking away.
“Zeke? Really?” I grumble aloud. Sam laughs, shushing me. Like you might do to a friend. Or worse, a brother. My head falls back in frustration before Finn squeezes my shoulder in solidarity.
When we get back home, we part ways. Finn and I head to the gym to shoot some hoops, while Sam and the girls work on homework and bedtime rituals. When I arrive back home a couple of hours later, Sam is helping Zinnie with her economics homework, explaining what it means to make a business plan.
“Do you think it’s too ambitious?” Zinnie asks.
“I don’t. Not all businesses succeed. At least you are trying. Finish writing your business plan and have Walt look at it before you have to turn it in. He’ll give you his honest opinion. So far, it is a strong start, but I think you are being conservative in your profit predictions. Now, bedtime,” Sam adds, looking at her watch.
“Good night, sweetheart.” I hug Zinnie when she places a kiss to my cheek. After she leaves, I watch as Sam pulls out books and notebooks along with her laptop. I should have stayed to help the girls with bedtime and homework, so she could study. I’m such a jerk. But she doesn’t complain or seem put out. Instead, she opens her music app and her fingers tap away on the computer.
When I get up at three in the morning to grab some water, Sam is still up. Hair is going in a hundred directions. Glasses I didn’t know she wore rest on the bridge of her nose. The music is still playing, and she’s oblivious that I’m creeping in the shadows.
I’m up at six to grab some breakfast before going to the office. Today is Sam’s day to drop off Poppy at school. Only she’s still at the table, music playing, her head is resting on her arms.
“Shh. She’s asleep,” Finn whispers from the bar. He’s blowing on a hot cup of coffee.
“Do you ever eat at your place?” I ask.
“No,” Sam says, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “And I’m not asleep. I was just resting my head.”
“You need sleep,” I chastise. “You can’t keep going at this pace.”
“I’m going to shower,” she mumbles dragging herself to her wing.
Thirty minutes later, Zinnie goes to check on Sam. There’s a small scream, followed by laughter, a thud, and more laughter.
“Sam fell asleep on the toilet,” she giggles, running back into the kitchen. “I think she’s going to need a minute. She’s running late.”
“Come on. I’ll take you today,” I tell Pops.
“Can someone push the elevator button for me?” Sam asks, jumping into one shoe, then the other. The lift dings just as I fasten the last button on Poppy’s jumper.
Sam’s arms are full when she jogs into the entry. The three of us stand in a row, watching in amusement at her bedlam as she distributes kisses, papers, and instructions to both girls and Finn. Without a thought, she does the same to me. Her soft, full lips touch the soft skin of my newly shaved cheek. Six steps later and she’s in the lift, turning suddenly. She points as she counts each person just now realizing she gave one more kiss than usual. Mine. She blushes. And, fuck me, is it a sexy blush.
I laugh, attempting to make it less awkward for her. “Get going,” I say, shooing her along. She chuckles again and issues a sorry with a backwards wave over her head.
As the door closes on the two of them, I can’t help but think about that kiss. If it had just been two inches to the left…
A giggle and an elbow to my arm pulls me from my daydream and Zinnie hits me with a wink.
“Go on now. Soder off and grab your things. We need to go.”
The week continues in much of the same fashion. Our mornings have become a well-choreographed movement of timelines and routines. By the time the weekend rolls around, the girls are thrilled to be out of school and quite frankly, I am exhausted. I honestly had no idea how much of a time suck kids can be. Though I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Saturday is play dates, and time with friends. Sunday is family brunch and one more shopping trip to get the last of Zinnie’s school clothes. Sam, Finn and I rock, paper, scissor our way out of going. I lost. Always choose rock. Always.
An hour later Zinnie and I were wandering through Bergdorf’s looking for more clothes and items she insisted she needed for school.
On our way to yet another rack of clothes, we inadvertently passed the counter that carries the perfume Jenny always wore. The scent triggered Zinnie and the result was immediate. She burst into tears in the middle of the store, drawing the eyes of nearly every shopper around us. I tried everything I could think of to soothe her, but I finally had to give up and bring her home, my arms wrapped around her the whole way.
The minute she entered the apartment, she ran to Sam, fell onto her lap, and sobbed. I tried to offer a gentle explanation, but Sam, in her unique ability to offer comfort, gave Zinnie what she needed. Time to cry.
“Will it always be this way?” Zinnie sniffs.
“It gets easier, but it never totally goes away. You will always think of your mom when you smell her perfume. I always think of my mom when I smell her soap. But eventually, you get to where the tears aren’t there. Just the memory.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love living with you guys, but some days I miss my parents so much it feels like I can’t breathe.”
“I know, honey.”
“Poppy?” I ask.
“With Finn,” Sam answers, still rocking Zinnie back and forth.
“Might as well get this out now then while you’re upset,” I sigh, sitting down across from them. I’ve been putting off this conversation. We’ve been on a stretch of good days lately and I just didn’t have the heart to derail us. But she’s upset now, so might as well get it over with.
“The District Attorney called me this week about your parent’s accident. They want to offer a plea bargain to the man driving the other car.”
“What? Why?” Zinnie asks.
“Well, he’s young and they want him to go through rehab to get help for his drinking. He’ll serve a reduced sentence in hopes they can rehabilitate him.”
“So, give him a second chance?” Zinnie says, aghast. “That’s what you’re telling me? What about mom and dad’s second chance? They didn’t get one. Why should he? Our parents would be alive if it weren’t for the choices he made. I hate him and wish they would kill him like he killed my parents.”
“Zinnie,” Sam chastises gently. “Don’t say that. Accidents happen. Even when there are external factors like drinking and bad decisions involved. Hate is a horrible thing to walk around with. It will eat at you until you don’t even recognize yourself. Trust me, I know.”
“Did you hate the person who killed your parents?”
“I did. Still do sometimes. It’s a work in progress. But forgiveness is forgiveness, and eventually I came to see that forgiveness is always for me, not for the other person. Because if you walk around with hate in your heart, it will destroy the person you are.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive. I don’t know that I want to,” Zinnie admits.
“Why don’t you start talking to the therapist again. She can help you talk through these feelings. I wouldn’t be here today without that kind of guidance and the love and support of my friends.”
We sit in silence for a while before Zinnie agrees to give it another try.
I told Zinnie she didn’t have to decide right away, but slowly, over the next couple of weeks, she made the decision to accept the plea bargain. She was thoughtful and smart and kind, and I couldn’t have been more in awe of this child who took this on to decide.
Out of everyone, Pierce and her therapist were the most helpful. Her therapist helped her sort through her thoughts, and Peirce was honest and upfront. While the rest of us were giving her space to let her make her own decision, Pierce didn’t hold back his opinion. In the end, it’s what Zinnie needed—concrete guidance. So, when he told her he believed in rehabilitation over incarceration, I think it resonated with her in ways my opinion didn’t.
I’m learning how important the people you surround your children with are. It really does take a village.
All of this weighted heavily on me all day, which made getting through work a bit more difficult than usual. And today was one for the books. I didn’t think I would make it home for our Tuesday night dinner, and I would be lying to say that it doesn’t still shock me that just the thought of having to entertain people tonight had me feeling a little out of sorts earlier.
“Where is everyone?” I ask Zinnie as I loosen my tie. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch with books scattered around her, laptop open on her lap. She removes an earbud and I repeat my question.
“Pierce texted that he would be late. Quade and Colin took Charlotte and Grace to pick up dinner. They didn’t feel like cooking. Finn—I thought he was with you. Zoe wanted to pick Pops up from ballet. Dinner was moved back to seven. Sam is studying outside. Needed fresh air.” She puts her earbud back in, her neck popping to the music.
Dinner at seven. That explains why I’m not late.
I change into jeans and a T-shirt before grabbing a scotch. I head outside to find Sam and enjoy the weather while it’s still warm enough. Mother Nature led us to believe summer was over, but we’ve had an unusually warm week.
“Grabbing the last of the sun while you can?” I ask, taking the lounge chair next to Sam.
Silence. Correction, light snoring. Sam has been burning the candle at both ends. I’ve pushed her to slow down and to allow me to get her some help, but she insists she’s the help and “help shouldn’t need help”. The decision to step in is an easy one. If Sam’s not going to take care of herself on her own, then I have no problem being up to the task.
I lift her into my arms. Now that I’m actually counting, I think she has had three hours of sleep a night at the most. She mumbles an incoherent mixture of words about needing to study, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“Sleep.”
“Dinner.”
“Next time.”
She mumbles something about there are only fifty-two of these. I assume she means weekly dinners a year. And, yeah, in the scheme of a whole year that is not that many, but she will have to miss this one. I’m about to argue my point, but it’s moot. She is passed out, her head propped against my shoulder.
Settling her under the covers in her bed, I curse the heavens that she is dressed in something comfortable enough to sleep in, otherwise I would have helped her change. Just my dumb luck. Her hair fans across the pillow. No makeup. No adorning. Just Samantha in all her beauty. She has a mole behind her ear, and before I can talk myself out of it, I kiss it, drawing in her scent. My lips touch her forehead while my thumb skims her jawline, and without even thinking, I press my lips to hers in a kiss far gentler and controlled than I’m feeling capable of.
“Sleep,” I order. But she is already completely under.
The main area is bustling when I enter. The gang is back with Italian and they are setting the table. Sometimes I like it casual, where we eat at the bar or we fix a plate and eat in the living room, but just as much I love to eat family style. Food being passed to and from, over conversations, tall tales, and clanging dishes. That is what it looks like we are getting tonight. Sam is right. We only get fifty-two of these a year. It’s still not enough to make me wake her.
“Zoe is running a few minutes late. She and Poppy stayed to practice her pirouettes,” Finn says, setting out the plates. Grace and Zinnie are discussing her latest changes to the blog she started. Pierce is laughing, and I watch him watching Charlotte. I’m not sure how I missed it. Possibly because he’s closed off more than anyone. If it wasn’t for the girls I’m not sure his heart would be recognizable. The women in this family aren’t the only ones dealing with loss.
I’m around these people quite a bit, but there is more I can learn in sixty minutes of dinner than I can in a week of sporadic conversations. Like the fact that Poppy made her way onto some fashion website. Apparently, the way Sam and Zinnie are dressing her is catching the eye of fashion bloggers. Sam and Zinnie ran into her professor again yesterday. I could have gone without the play-by-play on that one. Zoe has a new girlfriend. Quade went out on a second date, which is unheard of. And a boy kissed Poppy in class today. That one stops all traffic.
“A boy kissed you?” Pierce says in a voice that sends a tinge of fear down the spines of everyone around the table. Except Poppy’s.
“Yes. His name his Howie.”
“And where pray-tell did this Howie kiss you?” Pierce asks.
“On the reading squares.”
“No, dummy. He means where on your body did he kiss you?” Zinnie explains with a smile.
“Oh. On my cheek.” She points to her cheek.
“You tell Howie to keep his lips to himself until you are 21.”
“That’s like a hundred years from now. I can’t do that. I plan to kiss him tomorrow.”
That little chunk of information was enough to hijack the rest of dinner.