VEGAS follows you home (45 page)

"It's beautiful," Mercedes whispers.

For the next two hours, we sit on the floor of my hallway going through each box and work of art. They ask questions and I tell them stories about different works or trinkets. We cry and embrace, but we also laugh.

The emotional night is both a blessing and a curse, because the next morning, I am dragging. Felicity grumbles about the time Mercedes and I wake for the bakery.

"It's too damn early." She presses a pillow over her face.

Mercedes starts tickling her and gets a swat to the head for it.

Slipping into stretchy pants and a maternity tunic, I follow Mercedes out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

My eyes avoid the closet, but catch on the boxes sitting next to the apartment door. Two will be shipped to Isaac's aunt for his family to go through. I've kept a few small things I can put into a scrapbook one day. And then there is the one to be thrown out. My heart pounds and there's a throb behind my eyes. The 'all cried out' throb.

"Liv," Mercedes gently calls.

Slowly, I look to her.

"Here."

She hands me a glass of orange juice and guides me to sit at the kitchen island.

I don't look at the boxes again, purposely avoiding the direction of the door when Mercedes and I head to the bakery kitchen.

Hours pass quickly in the bakery. There seems to be so much to do. And I feel like a horrible mother when Felicity brings a fed, clean, and playful Alex down to his play area. Distracted by the boxes this morning, I didn't grab the baby monitor.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize, wiping my hands on my
Keep your hands off my bun
apron and walking toward her.

"For what?" Her brow furrows with confusion.

"I just left him for you to take care of."

Felicity waves me off.

"I'm going to get moving. I have a couple appointments this afternoon. I'll grab the two boxes and mail them out, okay?"

She studies my face.

Taking a deep breath, I nod.

"You don't have to, Liv. This happens when you are ready, not—"

"No." I shake my head. "It's okay."

She kisses my cheek before yelling across the bakery to Mercedes.

"Should I tell Al to call you?"

Mercedes scowls.

Felicity disappears up the stairs, her laughter following her.

"Momma," Alex calls, waking me from a much needed nap.

Stretching, I grab my calf and begin rubbing the Charlie Horse out of it.

"Damn it," I curse to the empty room.

I had these during my pregnancy with Alex and I definitely didn't miss them.

"Momma." He's growing impatient and I hear the bounce of his mattress.

"I'm coming, baby," I call back, slipping from the bed and trying to walk off the remainder of the tense muscle.

A knock on the apartment door catches my attention. Grabbing Alex out of his crib, I carry him to the front door. I pull back the curtain and find Damon looking back at me. A rush of excitement courses through my body. Dropping the curtain, I take a breath and open the door.

"Good afternoon." He steps into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

"Dad." Alex reaches out and Damon immediately takes him into his arms.

"Be careful, he just woke up and hasn't been changed yet," I warn.

"I don't mind." Damon kisses Alex's head.

"I'm sorry he's not ready to go."

"It's fine."

"No, I mean, he still needs to be changed, to eat, and…"

The hormones and sleepiness make me emotional and my chin wobbles.

"Hey." Damon steps forward, cupping my chin. "It's okay. I'll help get him ready and I can take him to eat."

His thumb traces the side of my mouth, leaving a fiery path. I want to lick at it.

"I can take care of him," he reassures, releasing my chin. "Why don't you go nap some more?"

"I know you can." I sway, wanting to follow his touch. "But I need to get back downstairs."

"Please make sure you aren't overworking yourself." Concern wrinkles his forehead.

"I'm not. Mercedes won't allow me." I smile.

"Good." He grins.

"Let me put a bag together for him."

We both enter Alex's room. I gather items into a bag while Damon changes Alex's diaper and wipes him down with baby wipes. I finish before he does and just watch him caring for our son. Something I'm not ready to admit to fills me.

"There you go, buddy." Damon stands Alex up. "Ready to go bye-bye?"

"Bye-byes," Alex exclaims, excitedly.

Giving Damon the bag, I follow them out to the door.

"What's this?"

My eyes fall on the boxes.

"Just garb…things I need to throw out," I amend.

"I can take these down."

I open my mouth to object.

"I don't want you carrying boxes down the stairs. I'll feel better knowing you didn't."

He sets Alex on his feet.

"Hey, little man, we forgot a toy. Why don't you go get a car to play with?"

I smile, knowing he doesn't want Alex to think he's leaving without him.

"Come on. Let's get a toy to play with." Taking Alex's hand, I guide him to his bedroom and keep him distracted while Damon carries the boxes down.

A few minutes later, Damon appears in Alex's doorway, his face stormy.

"What's wrong?"

"You have a delivery," he quips and nods his head.

Squeezing by, I walk down the hall and freeze. Flowers. Lots of flowers. A supersized floor display sits next to my door.

"Olivia Harlow?" A guy stands just inside the door.

I nod.

"Can you sign here?"

He extends a clipboard to me.

My eyes still on the large arrangement, I sign and hand it back to the delivery man.

"Thanks. Have a good day." Then, he's gone.

Damon's footsteps give away his entrance behind me.

"Did you—"

"No," he growls low. "It seems you have an admirer."

Snatching the small white envelop on a thin string, I tear it open.

I'm sorry for how I behaved. Forgive me. Erik.

Briefly, I feel guilt, but then concern floods me. Erik never once bought me flowers or did grand gestures. We were never serious enough. He's never been the mature wooing type and we've been officially not a couple for months.

"I'm going to take Alex to eat." Damon's tone is so cold.

"Okay," I breathe.

On autopilot, I get Alex into his hat and coat. Damon opens the door and takes Alex, but pauses before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

He turns, surprise on his face.

"You can take those with you." I point to the flowers.

The corner of his mouth twitches. With a brief nod, he grabs the flowers and pulls them out the door with them.

I close the door and lean forward, pressing my hands against it for a moment.

When I hear the clash of the flowers in the large trash bin at the bottom of the steps, I straighten from the door and return to the bakery.

Damon

Alex eats with a flourish and is full of energy. It's too cold for the park, so I decide to take him back home to play. I also want to check on Olivia. She looks very tired. And I want to make sure Erik doesn't show up. He's grown brave.

Pulling out my phone, I place a couple of calls. Erik won't be able to breathe without me being informed. There will be a stop to this before it even starts.

Walking into the shop front of the bakery, I'm stopped right at the door by a large crowd of people. Mrs. Dorn and Mercedes work behind the vintage soda shop inspired counter and cases. They rush around, filling boxes and bags.

"Excuse me," I say, hedging toward the kitchen entrance.

"Wait your turn, buddy," a small, round woman snaps from two people in front of me.

"I'm not waiting on a turn." I smile, trying to stay cordial.

"Yeah, right." She snorts and nudges another person with her elbow. "This guy thinks he's going to budge in line."

The second stranger turns his scowl on me.

"You can wait in line like the rest of us," the man grumbles.

"Look, I need to get my son—"

"We all need something. You ain't the only one," a woman with a small child on her hip chimes in.

"Listen, his mother—"

"Don't care," the small, round woman grunts.

"Get out of my way," I growl.

For a moment, her eyes widen with fear and she takes a step back.

"How dare you speak to me like that," she says, loud enough for more of the crowd to hear. They all turn and gawk. "We all have to wait our—"

"Damon?" Mercedes calls out over the crowd.

"Yes." I wave above the heads.

"Let him through, please." Mercedes comes around the counter, helping to create a path.

I meet her halfway.

"You should come in through the back." She grins. "Especially at this time of the day."

"Hey! I've been waiting for fifteen minutes!"

I recognize the voice and don't need to look back to see the same woman from a few moments ago.

"They are insane," I whisper.

She giggles, nodding and releasing my arm at the kitchen entrance.

"Calm down, Mrs. Rhodes, he's not a customer. That's Olivia's husband."

At her announcement, all eyes shift and give me a once over. I've stood in front of thousands of employees, negotiated with foreign business associates, debated with multiple boards of directors, but this crowd intimidates me more.

"Next!" Mrs. Dorn exclaims and the group loses interest in me.

I slip into the kitchen.

Inside, I spot Olivia right away. She moves fluidly around a cake; her steps like a ballerina, her hands moving like a maestro over the cake. Golden swirls, twists, and intricate designs start to form on the dark red fondant.

"Momma!" Alex's shout takes Olivia's attention away from the cake.

"Hey, little man." Olivia smiles and it takes my breath away.

"Alex, my main man!" a woman I recognize from the New York job calls out.

Olivia sets down a stained cloth bag and wipes her hands on an apron that reads
I'd tell you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you
. I can't help but grin as she approaches.

"What?" She tilts her head just slightly.

"I like your apron."

She grins, a slight blush coloring her face.

"I have a bunch of them." She shrugs away the embarrassment and reaches for Alex.

He goes into her arms, giving her a big hug.