Egotistically Yours by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Three

LAURENT

Turning awayfrom the slammed door, I head home, but then decide that I can’t go there. Instead, I drive toward the office. Sitting in the parking garage of the building, I shift my car into reverse and go somewhere else.

Without giving it much thought, I just drive. The lake comes into view and I park my car in my normal spot, then I jog down to the dock where my boat is kept. I don’t step onto my boat yet, instead choosing to stare at it, choosing to let the memories flood into me.

Memories of the past. Of the moment that I knew I needed to ruin whatever fantasy Bethie thought we could be. I am no good for her, I can’t be what she needs. Now, there’s a baby, one that I know must be mine.

Can I be what the baby needs?

If I can’t be what Bethie needs, what anyone needs, how can I be what a baby needs? I’m nothing but a thirtysomething playboy. The only responsibilities I can handle are the ones at work and I’m failing miserably at them. If I can’t make my company successful, how can I manage to make being a father successful?

“Thought I would find you out here,” a deep voice rumbles behind me.

Turning my head, I look back over my shoulder at the man approaching me. Giving him a smile, I shift my gaze back to my boat. I love this boat. It was the first purchase I ever made on my own and I’ll treasure it always.

“I didn’t know you were looking for me,” I say.

He hums but doesn’t respond. We stay quiet as he approaches my side, then lifts his hand and cups my shoulder.

“Did you find out what you needed to?” he asks.

I don’t say anything right away. “No, I didn’t. I’m not sure I want to know either.”

We stay there staring at the boat and the water in silence for a while. Then my father decides to speak. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, why he came out here searching for me, though I have no doubt at all that he has a real purpose.

“Bethie called a little bit ago. She was upset, angry with us for telling you she’d had the baby. But mostly just rattled.”

“I wasn’t the nicest,” I admit.

He clears his throat but still looks straight ahead. “Is he yours?” he asks.

He.

He.

I didn’t realize that the baby was really a boy. I said the word him, my father said him, and so did Bethie, but I was so blindsided I didn’t really put it together until now.

My heart squeezes at the thought of this boy possibly being mine and growing up without me. How can I let that happen? But wouldn’t it be better than failing him?

“I’m sure you weren’t. Is there a chance this child is yours?” he asks.

“There is,” I admit.

Saying it aloud, not just thinking it, but actually saying the words makes it feel real. Especially when I say them to my father, of all people. My father who stayed in a loveless marriage for years just so that we would have a stable life.

“And you threatened her no doubt when she wouldn’t confess?”

Grinding my teeth together, I let out a low growl, hating that my father knows me so well.

“I ask, because it’s what I would have done at your age. Family is everything, Laurent. You know this. I’ve instilled this in you. But what I want to know is why she hasn’t confirmed if this child is yours or not?”

Arching a brow, I look over to my father, finally connecting my gaze with his. “Would you tell me, if you were a woman? I’m egotistical, I’m entitled, and I’ve never committed to anything in my entire life.”

He hums. “I see your point. However, you are not the same man you were almost a year ago, are you?”

“Turned thirty-one not too long ago,” I state.

He chuckles. “That’s not what I meant, but yes, I knew that. You aren’t quite as entitled as you were when I ran Astor Investment, though, are you? Being the boss doesn’t quite give you the easiness and cockiness as being the boss’s son, does it?”

I let out a snort. “Yeah, you’re not wrong there.”

“So, what will you do about it? Will you go the route of the courts or will you try your hand at earning her trust?”

Thinking about his question, the way he asks it, I know without a doubt that he wants me to go the earning the trust route. I have to admit it’s appealing.

I like Bethie, always have. She’s smart and sexy. She’s shy, but she can be bold when she wants to be. With me, she was always reserved but smiled easily. I didn’t see that woman today when I went by her apartment, though I wasn’t the man that I used to be when we were alone either.

“I’d like to earn the trust, but I don’t know how.”

My father watches me for a moment, then he lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s got a little more gray in it than I remember, probably due to the divorce, him starting a whole new company, plus having a toddler and new baby on the way.

“You need to think about what you want, Laurent. You’re over thirty, maybe this is the woman you’d like to make your own? If not, then you should at least be on friendly terms and take the role that is yours, the role of father, seriously.”

“I’d like to make her mine, but I don’t know that she’ll have me,” I admit.

I don’t want to admit that I’m a fucking asshole. I don’t want to think about the things that I’ve done to her. The way that I treated her. I wasn’t good to Bethanie Clark, but I think that I can be … maybe.

I’ve never been a boyfriend, I’ve never been a father, or anything good, decent, and responsible. I’ll probably cause them more damage than good, but I can’t stay away.

My child.

Mine.

I can’t not know my baby, I can’t let the only woman that I’ve ever felt anything for just go on thinking that I’m a selfish prick, that I won’t support her, support them, and give them everything that I’m capable of giving them.

“Then you have your answer, Laurent.”

Indeed, it seems that I do.

BETHANIE

My mother watchesme over the next few days. She knows exactly who Laurent is, not only to me but also to Tucker. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t try to lecture me or give me any unwanted advice. Instead, she watches and helps me with Tucker, never mentioning Laurent’s visit.

But I can’t keep Laurent off of my mind. I think about him every second of every day. The way he looked standing at my door. The anger that flowed through him, almost to the point of his body trembling with it.

Guilt consumes me even days later, even though he threatened me, even though I hid Tucker from him, even though he no doubt has every right to hate me and I have every right to keep this child to myself, I cannot help but feel so much guilt.

A week passes, then another and my mom heads home. Before she leaves, she hugs me, kisses Tucker, then her gaze focuses on mine—intently.

“Bethanie,” she begins. “I know my daughter. You are already a fantastic mother, but that man that was here, he is something to you, and to Tucker. I don’t know the details and I won’t ask you. He was very angry and I won’t get into it, but I will say that life is much easier when there are two parents to a child.”

“Thanks,” I breathe.

“I’m serious,” she states. “Even if you do not want to be in a relationship with him, life is much easier when you have someone to depend on.”

Can I depend on Laurent?

He has proven himself to be anything but dependable. Except to his family. And that is why I have hesitation and guilt about all of this. He is so good to his sister and brother, to his father and even to Tennessee. I can only imagine that he would be just as good to Tucker, too.

But is it all my imagination? What if he isn’t good to Tucker? What if I bring him into Tucker’s life just for Laurent to be absent? To drift away into another woman’s bed and start a family with her, a real family.

I’ll never be Laurent’s wife. I’ll never be the aristocrat that he can have, that comes with good breeding. Tucker and I will just be a check he writes every month, we’ll never be a real family. I can’t have that for my son. This is why I hesitate.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say with a sigh.

She shakes her head, her eyes finding mine. “I’m just a few hours away. Do not hesitate to call on me, ever. I’ll come over next weekend.” And without another word, she’s gone.

Tucker cries and I turn to him. He’s in his bouncer, his legs and arms kicking as he wails for food. Smiling, I lock the door and hurry over to him. My breasts ache as he cries out. Situating myself on the sofa, I bring him to my breast and feed him.

I know that this is supposed to be a beautiful thing, and it is, but it’s also so fucking painful. But when I look down at him, that pain just disappears and there is nothing except Tucker. It’s just us now.

Me and Tucker, in this big world.

I have four more weeks home with him until I have to take him to the day care at LoneSTAR Investments. I am dreading every single day that grows closer to my back-to-work date. I don’t want to go, but I don’t have a choice.

As my mother clearly reminded me, I am in this alone right now.

The rest of the day is quiet. Tucker and I continue our routine. And again, I lament the fact that I don’t have an in-apartment washer and dryer. The laundry piles up and I know that we will need to go down to the laundromat sooner rather than later.

A few days pass. The laundry pile grows and I know that I can’t put it off much longer. Reaching for Tucker, I snuggle him in the baby swaddling wrap that one of the girls at my work baby shower insisted I have. It’s nice being hands free while he’s close to me, I must admit it, even if it’s scary that he’s just strapped to me with some wide pieces of tied cloth, he loves it.

With the laundry basket in hand, I head out the door, locking it behind me. I only take two steps when I hear my name being called.

Turning my head, I blink at the sight of Laurent standing just a few feet from me. He doesn’t move, his body frozen as he watches me. Then he takes one step in my direction and another. He reaches out and I don’t know what I expect from him, but it isn’t him taking the laundry basket from my hands.

“You don’t have a unit in your apartment?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I lick my lips. “I think I’m going to need one. There is a lot of laundry in my house these days.”

He smiles and jerks his chin. “Which way?”

“Laurent,” I breathe.

He clears his throat. “We’ll talk, but first laundry.”

Searching his eyes, I can tell that he’s serious. This is the man who I was on the boat with all those months ago. Against my better judgment, I nod my head once and together we walk to my building’s laundromat.