Page 15

My stomach is in knots at even the thought. “Absolutely not. I refuse to end up in another situation where I owe someone money I can’t pay back. Maybe Pierce won’t bludgeon me in an alley, but spending the rest of my life in debt to people who could buy and sell my whole family ten times over is no way to live.”

“Cannizzo won’t bludgeon you in an alley either. He’ll just shoot you.”

I realize Bailey isn’t being cruel, just matter-of-fact, but it’s doesn’t make me feel better. I must make a face because he sighs and runs his hands through what remains of his hair.

“Sorry, I’ve just been doing this job for far too long. I don’t always think before I open my fat yap. Alright, Arie. Let’s try my plan. Go straight to the Cochran building in Midtown. Pierce and Chloe live in the penthouse on the top floor. I think this is the perfect opportunity for a little reunion, wouldn’t you say?”

I don’t know if Bailey is right, or if this plan is as batshit insane as I think it is, but at the end of the day…

What other choice do I have?

Pierce

“Have any of the appointments I set up for you arrived yet?” my mother asks me over Skype. I can just see her perfectly made-up face from where I am standing in the kitchen, as she shouts at me from the computer in my makeshift office off the living room. I am trying to feed Chloe as I scramble an egg for myself, but I can already smell it burning and I know there is zero chance I will eat this morning.

“Mom, I don’t have time for this. Can you reschedule these nanny interviews? Chloe has an appointment with the speech therapist, I need to go to CSL and schedule out meetings with those security firms visiting from Yemen. There is just way too much going on today for me to worry about trying to find someone who meshes with me and the baby,” I say as I dodge a spoonful of rice cereal that Chloe flings in my direction. I may not be the world’s best father yet, but I have become a damn ninja when it comes to avoiding things being thrown at me.

I can hear my mother sigh from the other side of the room. “Fine, Pierce, I will cancel the interviews, but I’m going to reschedule them for the weekend and I don’t expect to hear another word about it. Understood?”

I turn to face the stove and roll my eyes. My mother still treats me like a child.

“Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, mister.”

My jaw drops and I turn back around. “How in God’s name did you know I rolled my eyes?”

“I know everything,” she says as she disconnects from the video chat. I shake my head and hand Chloe a cup of apple juice. I may not have been given a stay of execution on the nanny interviews, but at least I have a reprieve, and it will give me time to get things done today. I pick Chloe up out of her high chair and am just about to make my way to her bedroom when there is a buzz from the phone that connects the penthouse to the doorman. I walk to the phone with Chloe on my hip and answer with an awkward shoulder balance move.

“Morning, Thomas,” I manage to croak out to the day guy as Chloe tries to pull the phone away from me.

“Good morning, Mr. Cochran. I have a young woman down here, says she has an appointment with you. Something about being a nanny for Miss Chloe.” His voice is impatient — people just dropping by don’t go over well with the older gentleman, as it makes his job of screening guests more difficult. I can’t say I’m any more thrilled about it than he is.

“My mother was canceling all of those appointments. Can you let her know that Carol Cochran will be calling her to reschedule, please?” I bounce Chloe on my hip and listen as Thomas relays my message. When he returns, his voice is exasperated.

“She says she’s come a long way for the interview and it’s very important she see you today, Mr. Cochran. Would you like me to send her away?”

I look at my watch and grumble to myself. I have exactly enough time for a twenty-minute interview, but that is it. “Never mind, Thomas. You can send her up. What is her name?” I hear him ask, and then shout in his gruff manner, “I can’t understand you when you mumble, young lady! Oh, forget it… Mr. Cochran, I will send her up.”

I laugh and hang up the phone, then take Chloe to her playpen, where I give her a few toys to fiddle with before putting on a t-shirt. I’m still in nothing but my pajama pants since it’s already been “one of those mornings,” and the last thing I need is some snotty au pair thinking that selling pictures of me is a quick way to fame and fortune.

The elevator from the lobby leads right up to my apartment, but only with a special key, so when I hear the door ding in the foyer, I assume that Thomas has let the woman straight up into the penthouse. Once I’m sure Chloe is safe, I pad toward the entryway, stifling a yawn, and trying to plaster on my best fake smile.

“Good morning, and thanks so much for…”

And then, my voice catches in my throat. The whole room goes hazy, as if a thick San Francisco fog has somehow rolled into my apartment. Standing in the elevator, looking just as shocked and terrified as I’m sure I do, is Arie.

Her once-curly black hair has been cropped short into a very becoming straight ear-length structural cut, and she looks thinner than I have ever seen her. Her emerald green eyes don’t seem to be sparkling the way they used to, as if she has seen as much in the years since our parting as I have. She clutches an over-sized messenger bag close to her side that seems to be on the verge of overflowing, and she is practically swimming in an oversized pink sweater that drapes over a pair of dark skinny jeans. She looks tired, but to be fair, I’m sure I do too.

“Aaa… Arie? Is that you? Is that really you?”

She shrugs with a sad smile. “In the flesh! Jesus, Pierce. You look exactly the same. I can’t believe it.”

“I doubt that’s true,” I say quietly, instinctively reaching down and touching my thigh. “What are you doing here? Thomas said there was a woman here to apply to be my nanny? You can’t be here for a job.”

Arie bites her lip as she steps out of the elevator and pulls her bag closer to her side. “As a matter of fact…”

I slap my forehead and gesture for her to come in. “I’m such an asshole. Where are my manners? Please, come in. Can I get you something to drink? Juice? Coffee? A Bloody Mary?”

She laughs as she follows me through the foyer and into the kitchen. “You know, in all the years we were a couple, I don’t think you once offered to get me anything. I’m starting to wonder if I’m in the right place.”