Lost and Found (42 page)

“And this,” I say, pulling the box out of my pocket.

She stares at it, her eyes going red.

“You better not have,” she whispers.

“Just open it,” I say, grinning like a fool.

She takes it from me, her fingers shaking. “You know that people who buy big rings end up getting divorced. It always happens.”

“Is that so?” I’m ready to explode with happiness.

She lifts the lid of the box. It makes a creaking noise.

A silver key winks up at her.

She stares at it confused for a second or two before her grin starts. Eventually it covers the whole bottom half of her face, or so it seems.

“You made me a key.”

“I made you a key,” I say, leaning in really close.

“I love it. It’s the perfect gift.”

“Just wait,” I say. “Just wait. The best is yet to come.”

Chapter Eighty-Five

I PUT ON ONE OF the dresses James filled my closet with. Somehow between Jana and himself, he managed to build me a complete wardrobe that now takes up three quarters of his walk-in closet. I’ve never owned so many things in my entire life — dresses, suits, pants, tops, even lingerie. I’m actually kind of glad I wasn’t there for all that shopping. I’m finding my
Pretty Woman
moments kind of uncomfortable. Like when the doorman runs to get the elevator for me and keeps trying to order me limo service. I think I’ll always be a subway kind of girl.

When I step outside into the main room of the condo, there are already several people there, drinking out of the pretty crystal glasses I found in one of James’s many cupboards. Moving in here has been like being on a never-ending treasure hunt. I can say a lot of things about his ex Hilary, but I can’t say she didn’t have fine taste in all things expensive.

“There she is,” James says, moving to stand by my side.

I freeze in place when I see Ralph standing near Jana.

“What’s he doing here?” I whisper.

“I asked him to come.”

I jab my elbow into James’s ribs. He grunts with surprise, but keeps his game face on.

“What’d you do that for?” This whole adoption thing is still rubbing my nerves raw. I’ve seen the documents, but I still don’t get it. I don’t even
want
to get it. My life has enough change happening in it that I don’t need my past unraveled too.

Ralph comes towards me but hesitates when he sees the expression on my face.

“Just give him a chance.” James looks down at me with a puppy dog expression. “For me?”

I point at his face. “That’s playing dirty.”

He hands me a glass of champagne. “I will always play dirty. Remember that about me.” He winks and I remember what it felt like when he slid his hands beneath the edge of my panties last night. The last week with him has been nothing short of magical.

“Okay, fine,” I whisper. I jump just a little when he reaches behind me and pinches my butt.

I walk over to Ralph and stop just in front of him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He holds out his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I touch my glass to his and take a sip of bubbly champagne. It tastes yeasty and sweet and makes my nose tickle.

“So. Freaking out much?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. His entire suit jacket moves up and down with the motion of his shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Finding out you have an entire family you never heard of … that can be kind of panic-inducing.”

“Not for me. Because it’s not true.” I take another sip of my drink, feeling very stubborn.

“I talked to your mother once.”

I’m not sure I understand, so I say nothing.

“The woman who adopted you. You were already gone to New York.”

My pulse picks up. “You went to Detroit? Why?”

“I was tracking you down. I talked to a woman who retired from the adoption agency and she gave me your parents’ info.”

“That’s illegal.”

“Yeah, well, I guess she was never on board with the whole splitting-up-twins thing.” He shrugs. “Plus I’ve been told I’m a pretty good actor.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. You forget … I’ve seen you play a UPS guy.”

“Whatever. You know I was awesome. Anyway, I’ve decided to grow my hair out. See?” He leans down and shows me the part in his hair.

“See what?”

He points to the top of his head. “Same color as yours. Look at my roots.”

I stare at his face instead. I’m kind of stunned I didn’t notice it earlier. “I can see your freckles now.”

“Yeah, I stopped with the foundation. You were right. It was kind of gay-ish.”

“Why were you trying so hard to look like someone else?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Why are you trying so hard to ignore the facts?”

I can’t answer because I’m stuck between being mad and sad. I don’t know which emotion is going to win out yet. Which one
should
win out.

Ralph shrugs. “Anyway, your mom told me why she wasn’t going to tell you about being adopted.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s what her husband wanted. And I got the impression he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world.”

I ignore that comment because it strikes far too close to home, to my memories, to be comfortable discussing in public. Or ever, maybe. Anywhere. No thanks.

“Did you stalk me?” I ask. “All the way to Manhattan? Is that why you were working at Cartier?”

“What? No.” He’s shaking his head. “I tracked you to Manhattan, yes, but I had no luck finding you beyond that. It was only after James mentioned that we had to be family that I figured out who you were.” He grins. “It’s kind of funny, how I was looking so hard for you and then you just showed up where I work.”

I shake my head, lost in the memory of that day in the fountain. “That fucking ring.”

“It’s a good luck charm. Too bad you gave it back,” Ralph says. “We sold it the other day to a guy from Dubai.”

“I hope you put a warning label on the thing,” I say, rolling my eyes before taking a big gulp of my champagne.

“Nah. Just gave him a sweet discount.”

I feel someone at my side and look up. It’s James.

“Troublemaker,” I say, trying to be mad at him. It’s not working. He’s too amazing and hot, and he’s also totally trying to do the right thing. How can I be angry at that? I mean, I’m crazy, but I’m not stupid.

He puts his arm around my waist. “Troublemaker? I’m not the troublemaker of the family. That honor goes to my brother Jeremy.”

“When am I going to meet this mystery man, anyway?” I ask. Now that I’ve met and talked to Jana at length, I’m almost feeling comfortable with the idea of being a part of this family. I hope Jeremy likes me. He’s the last step in this whole new life thing I have going.

“Who knows? He’s dropped off the grid. Even the investigator we hired can’t find him.”

“Is he okay, you think?”

“If he weren’t, I’d hear about it. I always do.”

Before I can respond, James lifts his champagne glass into the air. “Everyone, raise your glass, I have a toast.”

Jana, Robinson, Ralph and I comply.

“Here’s to Leah.” He looks at me with a sparkle in his eye that I’m going to call
love.
It warms me to my toes.

James continues. “I was lost and then I was found, thanks to her and her tenacity, willpower, and crazy costuming skills.” He winks. “May she speed down the road to recovery.”

“So she can get into your office and start working her fingers to the bone,” adds Robinson.

“Hey,” James points, “that’s not what I meant.” He tries to glare at his friend, but it doesn’t quite come off as angry.

I stretch my glass out towards James’s and touch the edge of it. “Cheers. Here’s to family, friends, and a successful house warming.”

“I’ll drink to that,” James says.

“Me too,” says Jana.

“Count me in,” says Ralph.

And when I look at him and he smiles at me, I realize how much he looks like the man in the photograph that Mel gave me.

Dammit
.

I think I somehow just ended up going from being a soon-to-be evicted mugging victim to being a princess with a boyfriend, a condo in Trump Towers, a new job, a brother, and an uncle. Talk about being lost and found. Whoa. Mind. Blown.

I wonder what’s going to happen with my life next. I’m sure I’m not going to be ready for it whatever it is. I find I’m starting to like surprises, though. I’m getting good at random acts of awesome.

Go ahead, Karma. I’m on to you. I know your game. I can handle anything you throw at me. Bring it.
 

Chapter Eighty-Six

SHE LOOKS AT ME WITH tears in her eyes. She’s holding out a white plastic stick, the thermometer from the medicine cabinet.

“What’s the matter, babe?” I reach up to her from the mess of covers. If I lean really far, I can grab her by the wrist and get her back in the bed for round three. I try, but she backs up.

“I … I …” She looks at the device in her hand and than at me.

“You what?” I laugh a little because she looks so shell-shocked. I was pretty good in bed this morning, I must admit. She’s still suffering the tremors. I can see them in her fingers as they twitch uncontrollably. Maybe I made her get a fever. That would be a first.

“Get your buns back in this bed so I can love on you some more.” I use my sexiest voice and lower my lids. She loves it when I do that.

“Do you know what this is?” she asks, shaking the white thing at me.

“Yeah, it’s a thermometer.” I frown. “Are you feeling sick? Do you have a temp? Let me check it. I have some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet if you need it.” My plans to sex her up are now on the back burner. Maybe I pushed her too hard, being so recently out of the hospital. Her arm is still in a sling. What was I thinking? I’m mad at myself that I didn’t take it easier on her now.

I hold my hand out for the device. Time to step into my physician shoes.

She walks forward slowly and hands it down to me. I fall back into my pillows and look at the readout, expecting to see a number.

But there are no numbers.

There are just lines.

Two of them.

Pink ones.

“This isn’t a thermometer.” My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my head. This doesn’t make any sense. What am I looking at? Am I looking at what I
think
I’m looking at?

“No. It’s not a thermometer,” she says, her voice strained.

I hold it above my head. “This,” I say in a loud, slightly off kilter-voice, “is a
pregnancy
test!”

“Yes!” she yells, sounding just as crazy as I do.

“And it’s positive!” I shout at the ceiling. Breathing is becoming more difficult.

“Yes it is!” she yells.

I look at her and she looks at me.

“Karma is such a bitch,” she finally says, sounding like she’s angry enough to spit.

She so mad, I can’t help but laugh.

“What on earth are you laughing at?” She sounds bewildered. Her frown eases up a bit.

I can’t stop. “I’m just picturing you — ha, ha — and me hosing a baby’s back end off — ha, ha — about five times a day, that’s all.” I feel like I’m high right now. Good drugs, this sudden parenthood thing. Wow. Parenthood? Me? I think I just came down with a fever.

“Five times? Babies poop
five
times a day?” She crawls back into the bed with me. She looks scared now. Gone is the anger and in its place, stark fear.

I wrap her gently in my arms and kiss the top of her head. “Our baby won’t.” Our baby. Oh my god. We’re having a baby! I should be angry. Scared. Pissed. Feeling trapped. But I’m none of those things. I think I’m … yes. I’m definitely happy.

“It won’t?”

“No. We’ll have rules. Schedules. It’s going to be totally fine.” I can already picture a color-coded schedule in my mind. We can do this.

She talks into my neck, her voice muffled. “I don’t think babies follow rules.”

“Our baby will. Just watch.” I nod so she knows how serious I am. I can do this. We can do this. We had Cassie for a whole weekend and she survived. She thrived, even. She can hold her head up much better now. Plus we have all the baby gear. We are so ready.

Leah snuggles deeper into me, waking up certain very inconsiderate parts of my body. I should probably think un-sexy thoughts and get myself calmed down, but what the hell. Why not test the waters?

“I guess since you’re already pregnant, that means I can stop using birth control.”

“James.” Her tone has gone all serious. I leave the question about sex off the table in favor of dealing with her panic. I can hear it in her voice.

“Yes, Leah?”

“I’m going to need a ring.”

I take a few calming breaths, trying to decide if I understand her correctly. I hope I do. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I got the call about her being in the hospital.

“You are, huh?”

“Yes. But not a big one. A small one.”

I can’t stop smiling. “Because big ones mean divorce.”

“That’s right. And I’m not getting one of those.”

I kiss her head and hug her tightly. “Whatever you want, dear.”

She giggles. “I like the sound of that.
Dear
.”

“I like the sound of you in my bed.” The smell of her is intoxicating.

“Here I am,” she says, her arm slinking down so her hand can do that thing it does, the thing that makes me lose control. “Take me to bed.”

“Or lose you forever?”

She looks up at me, a huge smile on her face. “You got it!”

“I’ve been studying.” I lean down and kiss her, long, slow, and hot. Her tongue sets me on fire and her hand stroking my hard length stokes the flames.

“I’m so glad I found you,” she says.

“And I’m so glad I was lost.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elle Casey
is a prolific American writer who lives in Southern France with her husband, three kids, and several furry friends. She writes in several genre and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.