Egotistically Yours by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Twenty-Five

BETHANIE

I completely understand nowwhy the hell Tennessee was on the verge of tears every single morning she left Holden in the day care center. I could sympathize with her before, but not like this. I didn’t know. Not until this moment.

Walking away from Tucker, allowing someone else to care for him all day long, it does something to my insides. It physically hurts. I want to run back into the room, grab him, and take him home.

Making my way to my counter, I sink down in the chair and try to put on a happy face for anyone who walks by, but I know without a doubt that my smile looks strained and possibly homicidal.

My hands are balled into fists and my knee bounces as I talk myself out of running after Tucker. Landry suddenly appears at my counter and he grins down at me. I freeze. I think I’ve actually talked to him at work maybe four times in my entire career working here at AIB. My eyes widen and I stare across my counter at him.

“You look like you’re going to cry,” he mutters.

I don’t answer him, my body, voice, and brain completely frozen at the sight of him standing in front of me in his fitted suit. He lifts his hand and places something on the counter. I flick my gaze down to it. There’s a coffee in front of me. Shifting my gaze back to him, my eyes widen even more and I stare up at my boss and best friend’s husband.

“Tennessee told me what you liked. I thought you could use an extra pick-me-up. I know how hard it is to leave Holden there every day and I can’t imagine leaving Hanna there. So, coffee to soothe the soul.”

“Coffee always does just that. Thank you, Landry,” I say.

My voice is probably too soft, but I can’t seem to find it, not when I’m aching to go back into the day care center and grab my baby. I’m on the verge of tears and he’s being so sweet to me, he doesn’t have to, but he is and I just want to cry.

Landry gives me a smile, obviously uncomfortable with my extreme emotional state, then turns and walks away from my counter. I watch him go and can’t help but think that he’s pretty damn special.

Landry Astor is a wonderful husband, father, grandfather, and dare I say, friend. I’m lucky to have him in my life. We aren’t extremely close, but I hope that being with Laurent and proving that we are together for the long haul, I can become closer to the entire Astor family.

I spend the entire day wishing that I were at the day care center rather than answering phones. I don’t get any actual work done. I feel guilty because I’ve spent so much time away and I should be working extra hard, but I can’t think about anything but Tucker.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice mutters.

I almost jump out of my skin, my head jerks up and my gaze lifts to meet the man standing across from me.

He is a little fidgety, there’s something not quite right in the way he watches me. His gaze shifts around my face, then flicks to the side and I watch him jerk his chin before it comes back to meet mine.

“Can I help you?” I ask, following his gaze to the side, then turning back to meet his eyes.

I’m not sure who he’s looking at, but I focus my attention back on him. He continues to fidget, his body moving from side to side, he’s making me nervous.

“I’m looking for Bill Aspen,” he blurts out.

I blink, then turn to my computer. I don’t know who that is offhand, but that doesn’t mean that Bill Aspen doesn’t work here. There are a lot of people who work for LoneSTAR Investments that I don’t know at all.

I peck around on my computer, finding the company directory and type in the last name, but there is no Bill Aspen. There is nobody by the last name Aspen at all. Lifting my head, I smile sadly and start to tell him that I can’t find this person when I blink. He’s gone. This man has completely disappeared.

Frowning, I look around the lobby and try to find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Clearing my throat, I shake it off as something weird that just happened. We get all kinds that come into the building. Sometimes they are looking for a different company, sometimes they’re just looking for an opportunity, for what I don’t know.

But this guy, I don’t know which one he was, but he was obviously nervous about something.

I don’t think about him much longer, my phone rings, then it rings a second time, and rings again. It doesn’t stop ringing even as I take my break to feed Tucker. Once he’s fed, I go back to the crazy phone.

It’s an afternoon of nonstop phone ringing and by the time five o’clock rolls around, I am exhausted and thrilled at the same time. I practically sprint toward the day care center.

Tucker is as happy as can be when I pick him up. He coos and moves his arms around. I feed him one last time before I gather my purse and belongings and head out the door toward home.

The penthouse.

Home.

I can’t believe that I actually live with Laurent Astor. That this is my real life, and that I call his home, my home—our home.

Laurent offered to drop me off and pick me up from work, but I declined. Not only does my car need to be driven, I also don’t want him to feel like he has to leave the office at a certain time every day. If something happens and Tucker has a doctor’s appointment or gets sick, I need to be able to go wherever, anywhere. I don’t want to feel stranded.

So, with Tucker’s belly full, I place him in his carrier and I shove my arm in the handle, hoisting it in the crook of my elbow and I head out of the building. It’s hot, one of those days where there is zero relief, the pool is probably like bathwater right now and would be miserable.

Once I’m in the parking garage, I unlock the car, putting Tucker in the back seat and strap him in first, then climb into the front and push the button to start the engine. Turning up the air, I shift it to max AC both in the front and the back of the car so that Tucker doesn’t get too hot.

Then I shift the car into reverse and start to back up.

I have to slam on my brakes and I let out a scream at the sight behind me. There’s a man, the same man from earlier, standing right behind my car. I don’t know why I do what I do next, but I throw the car into park and I push the door open, jumping out, I spin around and shout at him.

“What the hell, I almost hit you.”

He stares at me for a long moment. He doesn’t do or say anything. He just nods his head and turns and walks away. I stand there staring at him until he’s out of view. My car in the middle of the parking garage, me standing there sweating my ass off as my heart races and my blood pumps hard throughout my entire body.

Then the adrenaline takes over.

Turning around, my heart slams against my ribs and I rush to the car. I don’t know what I expect, but a million scenarios run through my mind. I let out a sigh of relief when I see that Tucker is fast asleep in his seat.

Slipping back in the seat, I close the door and touch the button to lock the car. Gripping the steering wheel, I inhale a deep breath, then let it out in an exhale and shift the car into reverse. I head home, and each mile that I drive away from the office, I relax a little more.

By the time I am safely upstairs in the penthouse, I am no longer panicked and shaky. I push the whole thing out of my mind and decide that I have other things to worry about. This man maybe thought I was someone else.

Shaking the thoughts of the afternoon off, I look down at my phone and frown. It’s after six and Laurent isn’t home yet. He said that he would be home shortly after five, and he’s still not. It’s just me and Tucker.

Reaching for my phone again, I look to see if I have any new notifications, but I don’t. There’s nothing there. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I bite the edge of my thumb and I try not to feel sad, but I fail. I am sad. Laurent didn’t even text me once during the day to check on me, to check on Tucker.

That’s not like him.

At least, that’s not like the Laurent that I’ve known the past few months.

I wait. And wait. This isn’t like the time he went to dinner with Cody, came home late, and hated it. I knew he was going to be late. I knew what he was out doing, this time, I know absolutely nothing.

Unable to stand it, I send him a few texts, and they go unanswered, then I call him.

The line doesn’t even ring.

Then there is a knock on the door. I suppress the scream and freeze. Nobody should be allowed to even be up here, other than the doorman and he always calls. Tiptoeing over to the door, I look through the small peephole, holding my breath as if the person on the other side of the door can hear me breathing.

It’s that man.

My heart squeezes and then starts beating rapidly. I don’t know who this man is or how he found me, but he’s here. He must have followed me home hours ago. But why? He knocks again, but I don’t answer.

I’m not going to answer.

I don’t know who the fuck this man is and why he’s following me, but I already made a huge mistake earlier by leaving the car running with Tucker inside and the door open. Fool me once, but not twice … unless you’re Laurent, then you can fool me a million times.

LAURENT

Busy doesn’t describethis Monday. I have back-to-back meetings and I don’t even have a lunch break, let alone a moment to text or call Bethie to check on her or Tucker. By the time I am able to call her, it’s past eight and I instantly feel like complete shit.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

Grabbing my phone, I curse at the fact that it’s completely dead. Pressing the power button, I try to turn it on and it takes a moment, but eventually it does power back on. When it’s finally on, then that’s when I see all of the missed texts.

“Fuck,” I growl. There’s no way she’s going to believe that my phone turned itself off and I lost track of time—is she?

Standing, I shove my stupid phone in my pocket and head toward home. Stepping out of my office, I look to the side and I see Zara sitting at her desk still. My torso jerks with surprise at the sight of her sitting there staring at me.

“What are you still doing here?” I demand, sounding far gruffer than I intend.

She jumps, lifting her head, her eyes wide as she watches me for a moment. “I was just working,” she whispers.

“It’s after eight,” I point out.

She gulps, then licks her lips. “Have you eaten?” she asks, her voice dropping slightly. She doesn’t seem as nervous as she usually does and I frown, wondering what is going on.

I shake my head, clearing my throat and wondering why the fuck she’s asking me this. If she thinks that I’m going out to dinner with her, she’s lost her mind. I am not Cody, I tell myself over and over. Besides, I have a woman waiting for me at home and that’s where I want to be right now.

“No, but I need to head home,” I say, attempting to be as nice as possible.

She watches me for a moment, then nods her head. “Will you walk me to my car since it’s dark?” she asks, her voice switching from low to barely above a whisper. I don’t understand what the hell is going on, but I ignore it all, because I really need to get home to Bethie and Tucker, now.

“Sure, you ready?” I ask.

Zara nods and I wait for her to gather her things. Giving her a smile, I touch the elevator button and walk inside with her. We ride down together, then I guide her toward her car with my hand on the small of her back. It’s meant to be a protective move, especially in the dark parking garage.

Once we’re in front of Zara’s car, she turns to me and tilts her head back, her eyes finding mine. I watch as she licks her lips and pushes them out slightly. I stare at her wondering what the fuck she thinks she’s doing, but I don’t ask her, instead I stay silent.

“Thank you,” she breathes before her eyes search mine.

It looks like she’s about to say something else, but she doesn’t, instead she turns and opens her car door. I watch as she sinks down into her front seat, starts her engine, then drives off. I don’t head toward my car until she’s out of the parking garage safely, instead I stand there and stare in the direction of her retreating car, totally confused by what’s just happened.

Then I make my way toward my car. My phone rings in my pocket and I reach for it, not looking at the caller ID when I answer, assuming that it’s Bethie again.

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I’m late and I turned my phone off for a meeting and forgot to turn it back on,” I ramble.

When I stop talking and wait for her response, there is a recorded message from a prison. The same prison my mom is in and my lungs stop working. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was not what I was expecting at all.

“Hello, son,” my mother’s voice practically purrs.

Fuck. Me.