He Called Our Son a Curse, Now I Own His Company novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The First Refusal

Landon pushes, then lets it go; at Max's clinic a meltdown brings Caleb Mercer down on the floor beside her son, and Landon texts that Camille is coming for the pages.

"Since this morning," I said.

Landon laughed, and it came out a beat too late.

"Jo, it's forty pages of lawyer language. You'll fall asleep by page two."

"Then I'll be asleep and informed."

"The deadline is noon."

"Then I'll read fast."

He stepped closer and put a hand on my cheek, and I did not move away.

"Look at me," he said gently. "Is this about last night? You were up when I got in, weren't you?"

My heart went hard once against my ribs.

"I had a stomachache," I said.

"You've been strange since breakfast." He sighed. "I know I've been working too much. Let me make it up to you this weekend, all right?"

Camille stood in the kitchen doorway with her car keys in her hand and her face arranged in kindness.

"Landon," she said softly. "We really do have to go."

He kissed my forehead, and he said, "Noon, Jo," in a voice that was still smiling.

The front door shut behind them.

I put the stack on the table and turned the first yellow tab.

Most of the page was numbers.

The part under the tab said Beneficiary of the Trust: Maxwell Reed, a minor.

Under that, in smaller type, was a line that said Guardian and voting representative of the minor beneficiary.

My own name was typed beside it.

I read the line twice and did not understand it.

Then Max came and stood at my elbow with his shoes in his hands, because it was a Wednesday and Wednesday is the clinic.

I put the pages in my tote bag and zipped it shut.

The Brightside Therapy Center has a waiting room with a television that is never turned off.

That morning it was playing a cooking show, loud, with a studio audience that laughed on cue.

A toddler was screaming by the fish tank, and somebody's phone rang with a cartoon song.

Max stopped in the doorway.

I felt him go still beside me, and then I felt his hand let go of mine.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Okay, Max. Headphones."

He pulled them on, but it was too late.

The sound had already got in.

He dropped to the carpet, curled over his knees and began to hit the sides of his head with the flats of his hands, and he made a noise I knew too well.

Every parent in the room looked over, and then looked away again.

"It's okay," I said. "I'm right here. You're okay."

He did not hear me.

I tried to lift him, and he screamed and kicked, and I knew better and I let go.

I knelt with my hands open at my sides and my throat tight.

A man stood up from the chair across the room.

He was tall, in a navy peacoat with the sleeves pushed to the elbows, and he had a boy of about eight beside him who was already holding a pair of earmuffs.

He did not rush at us.

He walked over to the television, found the remote on a shelf, and turned the sound off.

Then the room was quiet enough to hear the fish tank.

"That better?" he asked me, not Max.

"Thank you," I said.

He came over and lowered himself to the floor, not next to Max and not facing him, but a few feet away with his back against a chair leg.

"Hey, pal," he said, and he talked to the carpet. "I'm Caleb. That was a lot of noise. I don't like it either."

Max's hands slowed.

"My nephew has a boat book," Caleb said. "It's a boring one, it's got every ferry in the harbor. I'm going to leave it here, and you can look at it or not."

He slid a thin paperback along the carpet and left it between them.

Max's breathing hitched, and then he turned his head a very small amount.

"Staten Island," Max said, thickly.

"That's the big orange one," Caleb said. "She does the long run."

"She has two engines."

"She does."

Max pulled the book into his lap.

I had to look at the ceiling for a moment.

When I looked back, Caleb was already on his feet, brushing off his knees.

"Caleb Mercer," he said, holding out a hand. "My nephew goes Wednesdays too."

"Joanna," I said.

"I run the ferry line that carries half of Reed Freight's cargo," he said. "I should have guessed from the boat drawings on your tote bag."

Max's drawing was peeking out of it, a green ferry in crayon.

I laughed, which surprised me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I read it with one thumb while Max turned a page of the ferry book.

It was from Landon.

Camille will swing by at one for the pages. Have them ready. Sign every tab, Jo.

← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend