I opened the door to the black limo—yes, we actually got a limo—and let her get inside. I closed the door behind me, put my arm around her, and closed my eyes.
It was, in a strange way, one of the most peaceful rides that I had ever had in my life. Izzy didn’t say a word, and neither did I, but both of us felt at such ease with each other it was like we said a thousand words with our bodies. I looked out the window occasionally to see the NorCal landscape, but for the most part, it didn’t matter what I looked out at; what mattered was the beauty of the woman by my side. Nothing could compare to that.
I didn’t even mean her physical beauty, though she still had that, scars and bruises and all. Rather, I was just referring to her spirit and her vigor; even three days after suffering one of the worst fates outside of death a woman could suffer, she was here smiling, laughing, and cuddling on me. I felt a certain level of honor and responsibility to treat her well; there was almost no way that I could end it with her now, not that I was even close to considering it, let alone doing it.
We arrived at her apartment about twenty minutes later. I held her hand as she guided me to her apartment. It was only here that it occurred to me this was the first time I was visiting her at her place.
“Forgive me if it’s a little messy,” she said. “Being a single mother is not the most conducive to having a clean environment.”
“The only reason my place looked as clean as it did was because I have people who take care of that for me,” I said. “If you saw my college dorm, I’m not sure you would have ever so much as looked at me.”
“Boys,” Izzy said playfully under her breath as she opened the door.
I didn’t know what to expect, but it occurred to me how, for as often as I had to explain to people or think about the fact that she had a kid, in some ways, I still hadn’t fully understood it. For starters, this place was not so much the home of a mother with a child as it was the home of a child with a mother. Toys littered the floor, toddler snacks were near the kitchen table, and the occasional carpet stain defined the place.
“You learn very quickly what matters and what doesn’t when you’re a mother,” she said. “Especially when you’re a single mother who has no interest in bringing Dad back in the picture.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
The sight didn’t scare me. Actually, quite the opposite—it sort of humbled me. It made me think about all of the extraneous things I had in my place, like a weight room, a man cave, a gaming room, a pool, and how none of that really mattered, not compared to providing a space for my loved ones to grow and feel comfortable in.
Of course, I was in no rush to have any kids, but the more I was around Izzy, the less I came to fear fatherhood and the more I came to see its positive aspects. I had never seen it as bad as my grandmother had made it out to be at the last family dinner, but I had also probably never seen it in the light Izzy had no choice but to.
“Hopefully, you’re not scared off,” she said as she went about cleaning.
“Not at all, I—”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at it and groaned.
“You can answer. Just don’t leave.”
“I know, but I don’t want to,” I said with a laugh. “It’s my agent, Scott.”
“What’s he calling about?”
“Probably my new contract.”
Izzy literally dropped the dish she was wiping. Thankfully, it only fell into the kitchen sink, not on the floor.
“Answer that or I will kick you out!”
Well, that was not subtle. I went into a spare room and answered.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nick Ferrari, you are a hard man to get a hold of, especially when you are about to be richer than you ever imagined,” Scott said with a laugh. “How are you? Is the girlfriend OK?”
I tried to ignore the fact that he’d put the money before the girlfriend; he was my agent, not my priest.
“She’s fine, we’re all safe now,” I said. “But what’s this about richer than what?”
I was playing dumb. I knew full well about Scott’s negotiations.
“Well, the reason we called you into our office a few days ago was to tell you that we have reached a deal with the Giants to make you one of their own for life. And we have the numbers that’ll be read in the headline. Are you ready for this?”
“Sure,” I said.
At the risk of sounding spoiled, money never concerned me. I had more than enough—
“Ten years, three hundred million.”
What?
“Can you,” I said, my mouth suddenly running very dry. “Can you repeat that one more time?”
“Just think ten and three hundred,” Scott said. “Ten years, three hundred million dollars. Thirty million a year. Unfortunately, after taxes, you might only take home about twelve million a year, but—”
But nothing.
Sweet heavens.
The Ferrari family and our vineyard had done extraordinarily well, and even before this contract, I was pulling in millions of dollars a year. Finances were never a problem for me.
But…
Three hundred fucking million dollars?
“Nick? Are you still there?”
“Somehow,” I said, drawing a client-like laugh from Scott. “Fuck me, three hundred million?”
“I would not have called you to make up a number or give you something that hasn’t been finalized,” Scott said emphatically. “That is it. You
