Kitchen Promises (Riverside Trilogy, #3) (The Riverside Trilogy) (9 page)

I heard a shuffle and some movement before he responded. “Yes, what can I do for you?” His voice sounded deep, almost as if he was taken back.

“Can you verify that you are the CEO of McMillan Industries? I’m sorry to be so blunt, but my company is looking to reach out into some new endeavors and we’re still in the experimental mode,” I lied. “Your company was on our list of expansion opportunities.”

“I’m sorry, you said this was Drake Stagliano?”

“Correct.”

I listened as he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with my unexpected call.

“Yes, this is Mr. McMillan, the CEO, however, we aren’t looking to branch out at this time.”

Well, if Denny is
here, who the hell did I just speak to?

-----<>-----

Molly

Seeing Denny in my house made me want to throw up. And not from nausea. Just the mere sight of him in my house, the thought of touching his hand, and the idea of his presence made me sick.

I didn’t want to make a scene and tell Drake who that man really was, but after the dream I had, I knew I had to tell him. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.

After waking up from my nightmare of his hands touching me, his body hovering over mine—I completely freaked. I felt anger. I wanted revenge. I wanted to take him down and dig his grave. And the only way to do that was through Drake. He’d take him down. Hell, he’d get things done
to
him, and I wouldn’t even considering asking about it.

But never did I think Drake wouldn’t believe me. Sure, I’d been a hormonal, emotional nutcase lately, but I knew Denny’s face. I knew it the moment his hand touched Stanley’s shoulder and his face became visible. You don’t just forget a face. Especially
his face. And even though it had been years since I had seen him, I knew.

I could tell Drake was skeptical, but that he’d figure it out for himself. Drake was stubborn like that, always needing the facts first, which I guess in the end I didn’t blame him. Considering what happened with Travis, I’m surprised he hadn’t put a GPS tracking device surgically into my body by now.

My days were beginning to blend. I didn’t know what day it was anymore. I slept most of the day while the kids were at school and Drake was at work, but Michael continued to work from home to
watch me.
I was in a funk—get up with Stella to watch her off for school, take a shower, eat breakfast, lie in bed, read, watch movies, take a nap, wait for Stella and Drake to get home, eat dinner, bed, and repeat. It was becoming monotonous—boring, old, and exhausting—monotonous. I was starting to think I was going crazy.

“Michael?” I called out.

“Yes, babe?” He walked into my bedroom, holding a notebook in his hand and a pen behind his ear. He’d been working overtime lately, blogging, doing interviews, and visiting fashion shows.

“Can you grab lunch for me? I’m thinking…Panera.” I gave him my best pleading eyes.

“Um…you asked me to order you subs less than two hours ago.” He eyed me wearily, walking closer to me now.

“I did?”

“Yeah. Don’t you remember? You were flipping through channels when you saw a Subway commercial? You texted me? And I said I would at 1, after my conference call.”

“Oh.” I chewed my lip as I tried to recall the event.

“Are you feeling alright?” He brought his hand up to my forehead.

“I don’t think you can check my forehead for losing your mind,” I said seriously.

“Sweetie, I think you need a hobby. You need to keep yourself busy besides watching chick flicks and reading smut.”

“Like what? I’m on bed rest. Really doesn’t leave me many options.” I furrowed my brows at him.

“I don’t know. You can still get involved. Start a pregnancy blog, or find a charity to get involved with via online, or write a journal.” I knew he was trying to help, but it just made me more depressed. “Anything but this.” He waved his hand up and down my body.

“This sucks. I wanna see
you
sit around all day long and get your insides kicked around.”

“No thanks, baby cakes. I’m good with my internal organs just where they are.” He smirked.

I blew out a slow breathe, trying to think of something I could do to keep my mind occupied. Not only was I extremely bored, but also I had a lot of time—too much time—to think, over-analyze everything, and worry about the twins. I was five and half months now. They were doing well enough where I didn’t have to deliver early yet, but unless Baby B started developing at the right pace, I would more than likely have them earlier than expected.

“When do I get to see the nursery?” I asked.

“It’ll be done soon, I promise. You’ll love it. Shades of greys and yellows.” He beamed.

“Greys and yellows? That sounds depressing.”

“I promise, it’s not, okay? You gotta trust me.”

I really didn’t have much of choice at this point. I had to make sure I was as stress free as possible and decorating a nursery would not be stress free. Michael pretty much took over the day he found out I was pregnant anyway, so I continued to let him do it his way. Plus, I had to admit, he had better taste than I did when it came to that stuff.

“Fine, I trust you.” I smiled. He leaned down for a hug and quickly kissed me on the cheek.

“I’ll run and get those subs for you, that’s if you still want subs?” he hesitated.

“Yes, subs are fine. Thank you.”

I decided to jump on my laptop as soon as Michael left. He was right. I needed to get involved in something. I needed to keep my mind busy.

I looked around for ideas of what I’d be interested in when an advertisement caught my eye.

Are you adopted?

Can’t find your birth parents?

Let us help!

And then of course, for a hefty fee, you could track down your parents. It had me thinking, what if you couldn’t afford that kind of fee? What if the only thing stopping you from finding your birth parents was money?

In a way, I was lucky to know the truth. Not having to feel like I didn’t fit in or belong because I knew who my birth father was, even if he didn’t. It was easy to find information on him considering he was one Internet search away.

Although I wasn’t adopted, I could relate to wondering how my life would have been different had my parents picked a different file. Would I look different? Would I be athletic? Hell, would I be a girl? It’s easy to think these things when you know there was a choice. When it’s your parents, you know, you’re a mix of them—half you mom, half your dad. But I’m not. I’m half my mother and half Stanley. What if my parents never knew who their donor was, like most people? Would I view my life different, or just accept it as is?

I was completely drowning in my thoughts, so I decided to search it some more. Every agency, corporation, or adoption attorney had a large fee—which was reasonable—but again, what if people couldn’t afford that?

I wasn’t raised wealthy. I was raised to know that money didn’t grow on trees, but rather hard work and determination. I would never forget that either. I still had a hard time accepting that Drake has money—lots and lots of money.

And then I decided. This would be my charity. This is what I wanted to do—help kids and their parents reunite. For free. I’d make it an online charity, people could donate for the cause to help with expenses, but it’d be primarily funded by me—Molly Woods-Stagliano. Well, future Stagliano.

Parents who gave their children up for adoption could sign up as well as those who knew that they were adopted. It would have to be an extensive application and background information, but knowing Drake’s resources, it could be done. I’d have to get him on board of course, but with pleading eyes and a few forbidden kisses, I was sure I could talk him into it.

After Michael and I had lunch together, I got busy making a website. The only reason I knew how to do any of this in the first place was Liam. While he was studying psychology in college, he had to take computer classes. In one class, he had to build a website for a pretend business. We both stayed up til 4am finishing it, making sure each detail was perfect. Liam was a perfectionist when it came to his schoolwork, which made me even more proud of him. He wanted the best for our family.

I realized I needed a domain name. Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. I started thinking of words that might work. Hope came to mind. Yet, it just didn’t fit right for me. Nervously, I ran my palms up and down my thighs, willing my brain to think of something creative.

And then I looked down. There it was the entire time.
Perfect.

So
Project Anchor
was born.

Dual meanings—hope and unsinkable—just like my tattoo. It was meant for both Liam and Drake, two very important men in my life and two very important aspects in what the anchor symbol meant for me.

Project Anchor
meant that by remaining hopeful in finding your birth parents, your dreams are unsinkable.
Project Anchor
would help families reunite, find their identities, and hopefully, remain hopeful in their decision to choose adoption when they did.

“Don’t let your past hold you down…

Reconnecting adopted chi
ldren with their birth parents.”

I could never imagine giving Stella up for adoption. It wasn’t the right choice for us, but sometimes, wanting the best for your unborn child and giving them the best, aren’t the same thing. Sometimes you have to make a decision, that decision to give your child up for adoption in order to give them the best possible outcome for a better life.

Perhaps it was just the thought of parents having to make such a hard choice or the hormones, but I began crying uncontrollably. The tears flooded out, damping my shirt along the way. I rubbed my belly, guarding my babies for my life. The sadness that overcame me could only be explained as pregnancy emotions.

“Mom!” Stella’s loud squeal broke me out of my crying funk. She ran into my room and jumped on the bed. “Guess what?”

I quickly dried my face and smiled. “What, baby?”

“We had a substitute teacher today. His name was Mr. Hott.” She giggled. “And mom, he was
hot.
”

My eyes must have bulged out of my face because they were suddenly dry.
Did she just say he was hot?

“Um…well, that’s quite the coincidence, huh?” I tried to play it cool, but inside I was ready to swipe her up in a hug and rock her to sleep like I did when she was a baby. However, she wasn’t a baby anymore. Apparently, she knew what
hot
was.

“Yeah, Mackenzie said she saw him wink at me! Now all the girls are totally jealous.” Her smile was contagious, because although I felt like jumping off a bridge, I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face. She was just so…happy.

“Wow…that’s a pretty crazy day you had!” I joined in on the excitement that she was having.

“Yup.” She jumped off the bed and walked out, smiling.

Well that was interesting.
When the hell did my five-year-old start calling boys hot? Or rather…men?

I decided to take a short walk downstairs to the kitchen. As long as I wasn’t feeling any discomfort, I was allowed to walk around the house a little. But if Drake and Michael had their ways, I’d never get out of bed except to pee.

“You sure looked busy up there,” Michael announced. He was in the kitchen, digging through the cupboards.

“Were you spying on me?”

“I prefer to call it
checking up
on you. But spying works, too.” He smirked and grabbed a jar of peanut butter.

“I’m sure you would.” I laughed. “And yes, as a matter-of-fact, I did find myself a new hobby.”

“Thank god. You were getting on my last nerve,” he teased.

“Likewise,” I quipped.

“Well…tell me about this hobby.”

I explained everything to him as he made himself three PB&J sandwiches. For a lean man, he sure could eat.

“Wow…are you sure you want to do something so intense? I mean, I just figured you’d find a pregnancy community to chat with or something. Or perhaps a knitting group online.”

I curled my lip up. “Knitting group? When have you ever seen me knitting?” I sat at the table, crossing my arms.

“Well…never, I guess. But you know what I mean. I just don’t want you getting yourself too involved, and then have to choose once the babies arrive.”

“Oh, you know the babies will have first priority. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a project on the side. I
need
to do something, Michael. I can’t just sit around on my now fat ass every day. And I can’t just be a mother, or trophy wife.” I rolled my eyes. I hated that term, but Michael had been teasing me with it ever since Drake proposed.

“Hey, don’t diss the trophy wives. They’re hot as hell.”

“For a gay man, you sure check out women a lot.”

“I appreciate all God’s beauty, thank you very much.” He grinned.
Didn’t surprise me.

By the time Michael finished his three sandwiches, Drake walked in.

“Well, evening sweetheart. Didn’t expect you down here.”

“I do live here, you know?” He kissed my cheek as he set his work papers down. “Michael let me out of my cage. Don’t worry, he’s been babysitting me.”

“You’re humorous, you know?”

“I have a lot of time on my hands these days.”

“Well, soon enough, you’ll have two babies in your hands. So enjoy it while you can.”

Dammit, he had a point.

“So how was your day?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Interesting. How was yours?”

“Same, actually. I decided to establish a new project. I think you’d be interested in it, too.” Least I hoped he would, I’d need some of his resources.