Beautiful Bastard: Beautiful Beloved Part 2

"The f.u.c.k are you wearing?"

I looked down at Annabel still asleep in the carrier and replied to Will, "It's called an Ergo."

He followed me into my office and sat on my couch. "It looks like you went tandem skydiving and forgot to unlatch."

Bennett walked up behind him. "You look like a marsupial."

"It's called baby wearing, you t.w.a.ts." I laughed, and then whispered to the baby, "Is that right? Are you my little joey?" I looked up at my mates and only then did I do the mental calculation. "Bennett, what the h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

"Will and I had a meeting with Gross and Barrett at eight. Did you forget?"

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l will you lot cut me some slack! I've not slept in four f.u.c.king months!"

They both stared at me, wide-eyed, for several silent seconds.

"Are your nipples sore?" Will asked.

I shook my head, laughing. "t.o.s.s.e.r."

As carefully as I could, I unhooked the carrier behind my neck and let it fall so I could lay Anna down on the couch beside Will. She startled-both arms and both legs flying out in a spasm-but then immediately fell back asleep.

For his part, Will looked like I'd just put a giant hollow eggsh.e.l.l near him. His hands were clasped in his lap and his eyes were trained on the baby as if she might suddenly roll and explode. He'd been around Anna nearly every weekend since she'd been born and still looked at her like breathing too heavily near her might cause her to shatter.

"Since when are you an idiot around children?" I asked.

"I love kids," he said, looking up at me. "But she's just so little."

"She's not," I a.s.sured him. "She's enormous."

"You know what I mean."

"Look," I said, sitting down in a chair near my desk. "I need to ask a favor. I want to take Sare out for dinner this Friday-"

Bennett interrupted: "You're finally going to let someone watch Anna?"

Scowling, I explained, "It's a lot easier said than done, right? Anyway, Mum is leaving for Leeds tomorrow so she can't watch her this weekend. Can one of you . . . ?"

They both stared at me with terrified eyes.

"Aw come on, it's not that hard. We'd only go out for a few hours. You and your better half give her a couple of bottles, change a couple of diapers, she sleeps, we get home."

"We can't," Bennett said, wincing in apology. "Chloe and I are headed up to the Hudson Valley."

"This weekend?" Will asked, nodding several times in quick succession as if to talk himself into it. "I could probably do it."

"Brilliant," I said. "Thanks, mate."

"I've never changed a diaper. Or fed a baby. Hanna jokes that the only girl I've ever failed to charm is Liv's daughter, Aspen." Shrugging, he added, "But I'm sure it's instinct, right?" He ticked the rules off on his fingers: "Don't scald Anna in the bath, don't leave the milk in the microwave too long." He paused and seemed to continue to draft a mental list. "Oh, and don't drop her."

I imagined walking out of the office right now and leaving Annabel in Will's hands for even a minute; my stomach flipped over and I wanted to vomit. "Couldn't you bring Hanna?"

"She's got some visiting-faculty dinners this weekend."

Rubbing my hand across my chin, I asked, "You know . . . maybe you could come over and have dinner with us tonight to watch and learn?"

He nodded, but swallowed heavily. To be fair, I knew what I was asking was a big deal. It was one thing to hang out with us when we had Annabel, and quite another to imagine being alone with this tiny little girl.

"Can't you just take it to the restaurant with you?" Bennett asked.

"That sort of defeats the purpose. Also, Annabel isn't an 'it.' "

"I didn't call her an 'it.' "

Will and I replied in unison, "Yeah, you did."

Scrubbing my face, I muttered, "f.u.c.k it. Just come over for dinner and we'll have some beers."

We'd figure something out. We had to.

Chapter Two.

Sara I turned down Fifty-Sixth and caught sight of the Parker Meridien near the end of the block.

The gray stone facade was as bleak as the morning sky; the clouds overhead fat with snow that was certain to start falling any minute. Winter in New York after Christmas was dreary: cold and wet, dirty slush, and days at a time without a hint of blue sky. But this year had been blessedly mild compared to others, and warm enough for Max to regularly push the bundled-up stroller alongside Will and Hanna as they ran through the park.

My phone buzzed in the front pocket of my coat. I didn't need to look to know it was Chloe, sending the third Where are you? You are not backing out on us Sara! message in the last hour. So maybe I'd missed a few lunches with the girls since Anna had been born, it wasn't easy getting out of the house with a newborn who would be permanently attached to my breast if given the chance.

I ignored my phone, my head still full of my morning with Max. Chloe could wait.

But of course only two steps later I was clutched with the fear that maybe the text hadn't been Chloe. Maybe it was Max with a message that Anna was sick or had hurt herself or- I moved off the sidewalk to stand in the shelter of a nearby building, and pulled out my phone.

Will might come over for dinner, Max had written. You good with that?

I replied that it was fine and slid my phone back into my pocket. With each step, my favorite boots crunched through the salt that had been scattered along the sidewalk. Chloe wanted to take me shopping before I braved the office today, but I'd declined. I wanted the comfort of my favorite skirt and the heels that added just a little swing to my step, the sweater that rendered Max speechless and then consumed this morning. I needed to feel like myself.

I straightened my jacket and tightened the grip on the purse Max had bought me for my birthday. A Burberry clutch, not a diaper bag. I hadn't been out of the house without my baby, let alone diapers, bottles, wipes, and a change of clothes, since Anna was born, and the soft leather felt too light in my hand.

Just a few hours away from her today, I reminded myself. Just see how it goes.

I smiled at the doorman as I stepped inside the marble lobby. The floors were gleaming white and inlaid with glossy black squares, the walls made of polished stone. People gathered on benches and sat hunched over their phones. Conversations carried through the giant s.p.a.ce and up, echoing off stone walls. I walked under a giant arch and turned left, climbing a set of stairs that led to Norma's. As usual, I could hear Chloe before I could see her.

"There she is," Chloe said, standing on skysc.r.a.per-tall boots, all long legs and cascading wavy hair and an expression that said there was no way I'd get out of being late without getting a little s.h.i.+t for it first. "f.u.c.king finally."

"I know, I know," I said, crossing the wood floors to reach them. "Sorry. Just trust me that time warps when you have a kid, and you think you're getting out of the house on time and then suddenly you're half an hour late."

"Are you sure it wasn't because Max saw you in that outfit and got a little handsy?" Hanna asked from beside Chloe.

"Spoken like a woman who's with a b.o.o.b man," I said, laughing. "And . . . maybe."

I adored Hanna, but Max in particular had grown especially fond of her in the past year, saying that anyone who could keep Will Sumner by the b.a.l.l.s was aces in his book.

"Just ignore Attila the Hun over here," my a.s.sistant and good friend George said, motioning to Chloe. "The woman isn't happy unless she's bossing someone around."

"h.e.l.l yes," Chloe said.

I hugged them all and hung my coat on the back of my chair before taking my seat.

"How's the princess?" Chloe said, blowing over the top of her mug. "Where's the princess?"

"Perfect. She's with Daddy today." A proud smile spread across my face. "How's the Bennett?"

"A nightmare," she answered, equally proud.

"And what's new with you and Will?" I asked, turning to Hanna. "I feel like I hardly see you, even if Max has taken it upon himself to crash your runs lately. Sorry about that."

Hanna leaned an elbow on the table and smiled. "I love when he comes along. And judging by the goofy look Will gets on his face when he sees that running stroller heading down the path, I can a.s.sure you he doesn't mind, either."

"Good, because as bad as I feel, the extra hour of sleep I get makes me feel a lot better."

"Maybe I should join those runs," George offered. "Does Will run s.h.i.+rtless in the spring?"

"George," Hanna said, ignoring this, "are you going to tell Sara about the little dreamboat you've been seeing?"

"Was seeing," he corrected. "As in past tense. Ugh, it was a stage-one breakup. I don't want to talk about it."

"A stage what?" Chloe asked.

"A stage one," he clarified. "I swear, do I always have to be the gay urban dictionary for you people? Stage one is where you break up via text message trying to come off not looking like a total douche bag. Stage two is where you tell the person, 'Look, you're not ringing my bell and I'm clearly not ringing yours. Let's move this train along to grander stations.' Stage three is where it's not working and you sort of fade the person out over time. It's painful because by then the other person has become sort of a habit. They know how you take your coffee and what days you can have carbs and just . . . it can be sad."

"Of course it can," I said, stirring my coffee. "Bonding over dietary restrictions can be very romantic."

George gave me a playful jab to the shoulder. "You get a sarcasm pa.s.s because you're lactating and it's clearly eating your brain. Where was I? Oh, stage four. Well . . . stage four is where one person is totally invested and the other is just . . . over it. Awful, right? So, stage one doesn't sound so bad, but in my opinion it's the worst after stage four. If someone feels comfortable breaking up via text message, you clearly haven't gotten to a place where you can ask a lot of questions, and you definitely can't call them up and be all Oh hi, it's me, the guy you wore the Lion Tamer outfit with? Can you tell me what happened?"

We all nodded sympathetically, and George glared at the bowl of m.u.f.fins in the center of the table before reaching for one. "Now I'm eating my feelings."

"Aww, George. Were you totally infatuated with him?" Hanna asked.

"Oh, girl, no," George said with a laugh. "I don't do infatuation unless his name is Sumner."

The waiter stopped by our table, filling my coffee before taking each of our orders. "I'll have the crispy waffle with berries and Devons.h.i.+re cream," I told him.

"I have no idea how you look like this," Chloe said, motioning to my body, "and still eat like that. You don't run with Hanna, and I know I haven't seen you at the office gym in months."

"One of the joys of breastfeeding," I said. "I have to eat more calories to keep up my milk."

Which was true. I still worked out when I could, but pregnancy and motherhood had left me with this new body I was only now getting used to: a slightly wider waist, but curves that had never been so full. I'd always been a bit on the skinny side, but I felt softer now, with rounded hips and b.o.o.bs that surprised even me. It didn't hurt that sometimes I'd turn around and see Max flat-out staring at my chest, completely unable to look away. I'd be lying if I didn't say those moments made me feel like a f.u.c.king queen.

"What's the plan when you go back to work?" Hanna asked, and taking in my outfit, added, "I'm a.s.suming that's where you're headed now?"

I nodded as I took a sip of my coffee. "I don't officially go back until next week, but thought it might be easier to ease myself into it."

"Are you actually going to walk into your office and sit at your desk today?" George asked.

George had been a G.o.dsend while I was on leave. I was out for sixteen weeks, but I'd never wanted to feel disconnected from my career at Ryan Media Group, so I'd stop in on a pretty regular basis even though anything I needed to look at could have easily been couriered over to the apartment. Without really talking about it, we'd built up a system: Anna and I would meet George at his desk in the outer office, he'd hand me the stack of files and any messages that required my attention, and I'd leave him whatever I'd been working on at home.

I never went inside my office and he never questioned why.

Which was ridiculous, when you thought about it. I was Sara Stella, capable of managing multimillion-dollar campaigns and overseeing an entire finance department.

But I hadn't quite figured out how to do all that and be mommy, too.

"You haven't gone into your office yet?" Hanna asked. "Is it going to be weird to go back?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I want to go back to work. I need to. It's such a part of who I am and I need that part of my life. But Anna . . . the idea of leaving her for eight hours a day still fills me with this guilt like I'm ruining her somehow or I'm missing some vital mommy muscle that makes me want to stay home. Plus, I know I want more at some point and how will we make all that work? Is it fair of me to want more children when I'm pretty sure I'll always need that side of me, too?"

"Bulls.h.i.+t," Chloe said. "You think men ever have this conversation with themselves? Of course they don't. You've killed yourself to get where you are. If you can have both, have both. It might take some adjustment but who cares? You figure it out as you go." She tilted her head and added, "You don't see Max wanting to stay home."

"Actually," I started, and it was enough to get Chloe's attention. She put down her mug and sat back in her chair, waiting. "I don't really know what's going on with him right now. I know he wants me every bit as much as he did before Anna, but I think it's been more of an adjustment for him than he thought it would be, the idea of my being a wife and a mother. He's so careful, like he's not sure how to treat me."

"Can you blame the man?" George said, and we all turned to him. "Have you seen what childbirth does to a v.a.g.i.n.a?" He did a full-body shudder.

"George," Chloe said, shaking her head.

"What!" he shouted.

"Shut up!" she shouted back.

"As horrible a flashback as that was," I said, "George has a point. I think Max is worried he'll do something to hurt me, and I'm not really sure how to show him I'm the same Sara I was before. That I want the same things I did before."

Chloe shrugged and picked up her coffee. "I don't know, Sara. He went from having you all to himself to watching you learn how to be a mama. Doesn't surprise me his brain is having to rewrite that code a little."

"I don't think it's about having to share me . . ." I hedged, but Chloe held up a hand.

"I mean it's about s.h.i.+fting how he sees you," she said, lifting an arched brow. "First you were the l.u.s.t of his life, and now you're the mother of his daughter."

I chewed my lip, nodding. "He worries that I'm delicate now."

"Exactly," she said, a bit more gently. "Having Anna was traumatic. It wasn't as easy a birth as you both expected. You've already forgotten it, but maybe he hasn't and still needs to get over it."

Chloe was right. s.e.x this morning had been wild and hard, as if wanting me took over the part of Max's brain that told him to slow down. That's what I wanted.

"When was the last time just the two of you went out?" George asked.