With Andrew still sleeping soundly, I hurried through the morning routine I developed when he was one and I committed myself to achieving success and giving him the best life possible without his father’s family’s money.
I meditated for ten minutes, read something inspiring, journaled, and did thirty minutes on the treadmill. The exercise wasn’t about my weight, as I was still a big girl. The short morning workout helped me keep up with a four-year-old boy. I showered and then went back to his room.
“Drew, Drew…time to get up,” I said leaning over him.
His arm snaked out from under his sheet and wrapped around my neck. “I want pancakes.”
I laughed. “Maybe Grandma will make you some. I’ve got toast and peanut butter with a glass of milk for you.”
His eyes popped open. They were an unusual mixture of green and blue. Almost like my and Devin’s eye color were mixed together. He had my dark hair, but Devin’s features were strong in the shape of Andrew’s face. Like his father, Andrew would be handsome. I hoped he wouldn’t be as cocky or irresponsible with people’s hearts.
I left him to get dressed in the clothes I’d left out for him, going to the kitchen to fix his breakfast and get a second cup of coffee for myself. I’d been lucky to find the tiny one-bedroom apartment in my parents building in the East Village not far from Tompkins Square Park. It had a little nook that I was able to turn into a room for Andrew. My parents lived one floor down in a two-bedroom. All in all, things turned out well despite my impulsive behavior five years ago.
Even so, I wasn’t impulsive now. I learned how rash decisions could impact a life, and now that I was a mother, I couldn’t afford to have anything happen to hurt the safety and security I’d built for me and Andrew.
Andrew ran to the table with his toy airplane making jet noises. He grinned up at me, and in that sweet face, I saw the same smile as his father. In times like this, I wondered what Devin would do if he knew about Andrew. Would he deny being the father? Would he try to shirk his responsibility? Would he want to take Andrew away from me? Would he be happy?
Most people, including my parents, believed Andrew was the result of one night of a nameless hookup. It wasn’t so far from the truth and so it had been an easy secret to keep. If people knew the truth, they’d either hate me for keeping Andrew a secret from his father or wonder why I wasn’t going after him for money.
I knew keeping Andrew from Devin wasn’t a nice thing to do. The truth was, I’d tried to reach him, but he had a new phone number in Europe, which meant I had to seek out his mother to get his contact information. I hadn’t wanted to tell her about the baby, but she’d left me no choice as she refused to give any information. Even after knowing I was pregnant, she didn’t give it to me.
To say she reacted badly was an understatement. She tried to say he wasn’t the father, but I told her a DNA test would prove that he was. She must have believed me because she then offered me an obscene amount of money to go away and never speak of the issue again. She said that Devin was building his life in Europe and hadn’t mentioned me once since leaving, so clearly, I wasn’t important to him.
I realized then that I was on my own. I passed on the money, and instead decided to raise Andrew on my own. I didn’t want him to be around people who were so ruthless and uncaring about others.
“Mommy, how do airplanes stay in the sky?” Andrew set his plane on the table and took a bite of his peanut butter toast.
“It has to do with thrust and airflow,” I said trying to remember high school physics.
“From the engine?”
“Yes. And how the air goes around the wings. We can get a book at the library if you want.”
“Grandma is taking me to the library,” he said with a mouth of toast.
“Be sure to get a book. You can show me tonight when I get home from work.”
“’k.”
Twenty minutes later, I dropped him off at my parents’ apartment, and then took the subway up to midtown to my job.
I was just putting my purse in my desk when Nikita poked her head in my door. “I’ve got something for you.”
“Oh?” I waved her in.
“I’ve been planning that party for Tony Gallagher,” she said of the standards crooner of the 1960s who was having a resurgence in popularity after his music was featured in a blockbuster film. “Mari has the flu and Jacob is still out on family leave,” she said of two people on her team.
“So you need some people from my team?” I asked, sitting at my desk and taking a sip of the fancy coffee I bought. Expensive coffee was my one indulgence.
“I want you and your team. Can you meet me at Roarke’s this afternoon?”
I tried to keep my face impassive, but I was sure I flinched. It happened every time I heard the name Roarke.
The NYC restaurant owned by Devin’s family was so fancy-schmancy that I’d yet to be involved in any events there because my clientele wasn’t quite that rich. The few that were that wealthy were younger, and while Roarke’s was for the elite, it was for the older elite. The rumor was Devin was changing that in their European establishments and that he’d opened a few clubs in
