Binding Arbitration (29 page)

“I’m not taking your money either.”

Fletch was now the cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. In spite of his sexual frustration, he looked serene.

“I already set up an account and deposited the money.” Aidan took a drink of his wine without looking at me.

“Then un-deposit it!”

“They don’t have any un-deposit slips.” Aidan grinned like a boy. “Look, the money’s a done deal. The will you can review. If you think there’s something I should change, we’ll discuss it. I want to know that if something happens to me, you’re both provided for.”

“This is ridiculous. A week ago you didn’t even know that I drew breath and now you want to…” I couldn't finish because he was kissing me. He held my chin in place, so I couldn’t move.

“That’s one way to get her to see things your way.”

He pulled away and glared at Fletch but spoke to me. “Don’t fight me on this right now. Think it through, and we can fight somewhere more private. Tell her the rest.”

“I think she might have had enough for one day.” Fletch snarled exposing his perfect canines.

“I’ll decide what enough is, you do your job. I pay you five-hundred bucks an hour, get to it.”

I looked at Aidan. Ut-oh, this must be bad.

Fletch stared back at Aidan, annoyed but unmoved by his rancor. He slid his half-eaten side of beef away. “Libby, Aidan would like to legally adopt Cass.”

I was ready to claw them both alive, it was lucky that cats had nine lives. I prayed these two had learned how to land on all fours.

23

BROKEN RECORDS

Fifty years from now I’ll be just three inches of type in a record book.
Brooks Robinson

Aidan 1:45 p.m.

“I looked into having the Dissolution of Parental Rights rescinded, and it can be done, but it would take longer than a simple adoption,” Fletch said. “Especially once we demonstrate to the court that Aidan is the child’s biological father.” He consulted me with a look. “I think this is something the two of you should talk about alone.”

Fletch slipped away, and Libby didn’t say goodbye. I focused on calibrating her reaction. I was rubbing my thumb across her palm. I stared into her blazing green eyes and willed words to come to me. “Libby?” It wasn’t a name anymore, but an oath. We stood on the edge of a precipice, and if I moved the wrong way, I was afraid of where we’d land.

She closed her eyes and I watched her take in oxygen on gulping whimpers. “You want to buy Cass away from me?”

“Babe, drink this.” I handed her a full glass of wine. “Better yet, let’s go for a walk.”

“I need to get away from you. Far away,” she said.

I settled the check, and then helped her out of the booth. “I promise you everything is going to be good from here on out.” Our bodies collided when I didn’t step out of her path. The physical connection went through me and settled in an organ that wasn’t best used for thinking.

As we walked toward Michigan Avenue at a clipped pace, the El screeched in the distance; the metal-on-metal scraped as the train turned two stories up. I pulled her through the pedestrian crosswalk while she made a feeble attempt at wrenching away.

I considered a stroll through Millennium Park, but her uncooperative stride told me it might be time to spill my guts. Instead, I started up the stairs of the Art Institute. She stumbled behind me, not paying attention until I reached the top of the stairs and looked down on the pair of oxidized lions which guarded the entrance, ‘Stands in an Attitude of Defiance’ is on the South end and ‘On the Prowl’ stands to the North, ironic that their names mirrored our dispositions.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“I want to show you where I’m coming from.”

I bought her a ticket, while I fished through my wallet for my yearly pass. We made our way to the security guard, an elderly gentleman with a uniform worn so many years it was now a size too small. “Come to sit with your girlfriend?”

Libby stepped alongside me and the guard took her in with startled milky eyes. “By gosh, now it all makes perfect sense.”

“George, this is Libby. How’s it going today?”

“It had been pretty slow.” He tipped his cap at Libby. “I don’t think anybody’s been in your gallery all day.”

The vintage stairwell opened up to a long red carpeted hallway that galloped along with my increasing heart rate. We entered a dimly lit, unoccupied gallery, where an archway stood on the right. The smaller gallery beyond was painted in a warm cream color. I strung the red velvet rope between two brass stands corroding off the gallery to everyone but us.

Libby moved to the painting on the farthest wall: ‘Woman with a Parasol and a Small child on a Sunlit Hillside’. The woman’s dainty parasol shielded her eyes and the wobbling toddler in the background was facing away from us, keeping its gender a mystery. The woman’s grace and confidence spoke through the canvas, light dappled over her serene face, illuminating the strands of swaying grass. It was as if at any moment the child would fall back on its rump and the woman would laugh. Libby touched the nameplate. “It’s the same painting that’s hanging in your living room.”

She stared at the portrait for long moments before she glanced back over her shoulder to find me leaning against the doorjamb awaiting her appraisal. She went to a cushioned bench that ran parallel with the painting and took a seat.

I paced the parquet floor behind her.

The ump grumbled.
Spit it out, kid.

I hesitated then continued several more circuits, before I sat as close to her as I could. I rested my elbows on my knees, lost in my observation of the painting as my shoulders collapsed forward. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“Sometimes, when you come to me that’s how I see you. It must have been all that English literature.”

She turned her head one way and then another, scrutinizing.

“A couple of years ago I was at the Bellagio for a baseball show and thought the Renoir exhibit would be an excellent place to hide out from autograph hounds.

“I was mindlessly wandering when I stepped into a small display alcove and suddenly felt your presence for the first time in years. I tried to tell myself I was enthralled with the painting. I tried to shrug off the goose bumps with dinner and gambling, but that night I tossed and turned and finally woke up in a cold sweat. That painting and the unknown child in the background were coming at me.”

Libby’s eyes flickered across the Renoir.

“I’d worked hard to erase every memory.” I stroked the veins in her hands.

“But when I saw this painting, my heart raced, remembering what it felt like to be with you. I tried to buy the painting.”

Her expression clearly implied she thought I’d lost it.

And I had.

“I visited her in Boston and D.C. Finally, she ended up in my hometown, and I guess from what George said, you know I’ve sat with her before. I always thought she had something to say.”

Libby had to clear her throat to speak. “That’s not me.”

I brought her wrist to my lips and kissed her gently. “I know that in here”—I pointed to my head—“But not so much in here”—and I placed her hand over my heart.

“Now, here’s where the story gets strange, and I’d like for it to remain between us. Otherwise, someone might demand a psych evaluation.”

She nodded.

“Last year during the off-season I decided to climb Mt. Olympus, in Washington State. Olympus isn’t especially high at eight thousand feet, but it’s challenging with the triple peak and heavily glaciated terrain.

“You approach through a breathtaking rainforest wilderness. I was climbing with an experienced team and their familiarity ensured making the summit. But a dense fog set in, and once it lifted, we were blanketed in a snow storm. We were half way down when we suffered an injury and had to dig snow caves and wait for the storm to pass. I slept fitfully. I was frozen and frayed. I used the last of my battery lamp because I couldn’t handle the darkness anymore, and then you came to me.”

Libby’s head shot up and searched my face.

“I’d been dozing, and you called my name, startling me awake. When I got my bearings, you were sitting at my feet in that dress.” I pointed toward the painting. “You came into my arms and a calm rush of heat went through me. You whispered, ‘Climb out of this hole, and come find me.’

“When I dug my way out, I found a search party at two-thousand feet. They wanted to take me down, but I didn’t think they’d find the camp without me and when we did, the guide and Juan were already dead from exposure.”

“The media never caught wind of the story?”

“I refused to be interviewed, I was the only survivor, and Fletch made sure that was the end of it.”

“You must have been terrified,” she said.

“I was, but not because I was hanging off the edge of the world in a blizzard. I was terrified because I was supposed to find you. Somehow I knew you needed me and facing you was more frightening than freezing to death.

“You’re the only thing I’ve been afraid of in my life.” I ran my hands through my hair my mind worked quickly, putting words together in neat little lines. “I’ve been scared of having you and going on without you. I’ve failed you when you needed me the most, and I was frightened that if I found you, you’d reject me. But more than all that, I’ve been afraid that if I can’t learn to love you, I’ll never love anyone.”

Her eyes darted about like a trapped animal before she stiffened her spine. “I need more time.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need, but don’t shut me out. I don’t want to be on the outside anymore. I need you, Libby.”

She shivered as I pulled her into a gentle embrace, kissing her temple. Our eyes met first, and then our mouths. When I nipped her tentative tongue, she groaned in luxurious surrender. “We need to take this somewhere more private,” I whispered.

Her glazed eyes didn’t seem to comprehend.

“I would love to continue.” I kissed below her ear. “But without video evidence.” I brushed my teeth across her neck.

She jerked away so fast I almost didn’t make it to my feet.

Instead of exiting, we took the elevator to the underground parking garage. I spotted Tank parked right where the valet said he’d leave it. I hit the key and the engine roared to life. “I know the perfect place where we can be alone.” I hustled her into the back seat.

“Aren’t we a little old for this?” She attempted to straighten her twisted skirt.

“Let me help you with that.” Her long ivory legs were sheathed in black silk. I gazed from her black transparent panties to the silky, lace top of her hose. I was on my knees between her legs leaning over her and she was looking up at me. Her face flushed with either excitement or panic. I ran my index finger over the exposed flesh at the top of her thigh highs. Without waiting for her response, I devoured her mouth. I shuddered on her groan as I moved my splayed hand over her belly button, running my fingers across the edge of her panties. “Does your bra match?”

She gave a subtle nod.

I took her mouth again. My tongue stroked hers in a rhythm that had likely stirred men and women’s blood since the dawn of creation. I nipped her chin. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” she purred.

I reclined in the seat and pulled her legs across my lap. “Unbutton your blouse. Show me the matching bra.”

She smiled sweetly. “And if I don’t?”

I was staring at her black clad hips, my head jerked up, “You have ten seconds or I’ll tear it open.”

“This is an expensive blouse.” She toyed with the hem.

“Nine.”

A button slipped through a hole, she paused, brushing away lint. She undid another button and met my eye, as I bit into her lower lip. When she was done, there was only a thin slash of naked skin from neck to navel.

“Libby, show me.”

She shook her head no.

I smiled, and nodded yes. I used my teeth to pull back the sides of her blouse. “God you’re beautiful.” I dipped my head, running my tongue along the crests of her breasts. I pulled one cup down and put my ravenous mouth to the rosy, blushed center. She arched, forcing more into my mouth, I greedily accepted as she pushed against me, my hand slid from her abdomen to her center making me aware of her need.

I pulled her alongside me so I could get to her mouth. My tongue roamed and plunged. One of my hands wandered her breasts, palming their centers until I had her panting. I nuzzled her collarbone while my hand traveled to the edge of her panties.

She whimpered.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She grabbed my starched shoulders and pulled me closer.

“This time, it’s about you.” I slipped my fingers inside her panties. “Holy mother, you’re silky.”

I sucked up the pleasure of her cries, where every experienced stroke brought her closer. “Silky and tight.” I captured her mouth as I slid my knee between her thighs, applying the slightest amount of additional pressure. She arched against me screaming, “Aidan!”

“You taste good, you feel good, and you smell good. You’re going to make me incredibly happy.”

She buried her head in my neck. “I don’t know the tricks your previous bunnies probably knew.”

“I want you, as spontaneous and innocent as you are.”

She tensed in my arms.

“You haven’t been with anyone in a long time. How long?”

Her eyes shifted examining my tie.

“Libby?” I pulled her head up, the golden flecks in her emerald eyes shined vibrantly.

“Forever,” she chewed on her bottom lip.

I crushed her so aggressively that I winded her. “I’m the only one?” I was overwhelmed with feelings of possession but I wondered aloud, “Why are you denying yourself?”

“It just never felt right.” She hesitated. “It didn’t help that I got pregnant the first time. I thought about other men, but I couldn’t do it. I know it sounds stupid, but it just never happened, and I was all right with that.”

“How you feel isn’t stupid, it’s sweet.” A grin of conquest overtook me. “No wonder you’re bound tighter than a bow string. You have some catching up to do.” I flipped her onto her back.