Magnus Page 15

“So, you called an emergency meeting with me this morning,” she says.

  Yvonne Cleveland is the best therapy money can buy in the Carolinas. She’s a black lady. Older, in her late fifties. She’d take ten years off her appearance if she dyed her hair black but she doesn’t. Silver hair makes her look smarter. It’s good for business.

  “Yes. I called a meeting,” I say.

  I’m sure she’s ready to get this party started, especially since I’m the one who called for an earlier meeting and all.

  “I’m not sure where to begin,” I admit.

  “What’s on your mind. There must be a pressing reason for this visit.”

  “There is. I met someone.”

  “Someone like who? A woman?”

  “Yes, and last night we—I—we slept together—sort of.”

  “How long have you known this woman?”

  “Three months. Well, I’ve known her for three. She’s only known me a couple of weeks.”

  “How’s that possible, Magnus?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Try.”

  I sigh. It’s at this moment I realize I’ll have to tell about the back story of my attempts to have a child – about the two women before Shiloh. When I relate the story, her eyebrows go up – not in a judgmental way but one in which she wants to know the reasons behind my actions.

  “Let me make sure I’m understanding—you’re trying to have a baby by a complete stranger.”

  “She’s not a complete stranger but yes. I want to have a child.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to leave behind a part of me when I’m gone. I want someone to continue what I’ve built.”

  “You sound as if you’re planning on going somewhere soon, Magnus.”

  I consider confessing to her that I’ve been contemplating suicide, but I decide to hold off. I’ve been uncertain of that lately. It’s enough of a bombshell to have told her about the baby idea. I can’t drop this on her, too.

  “Magnus?” She raises a brow. My silver-headed healer needs some understanding.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just planning for the future.”

  “And so this woman is—”

  “Her name is Shiloh,” I cut in to say.

  “Shiloh’s agreed to have your baby?”

  “After some convincing, yes.”

  “Why her?”

  “Something about her spoke to me.”

  “And did something about the two prior speak to you?”

  “No. They were just women who crossed my path—who thought I was dating material. They agreed to do whatever I asked because they wanted me and all I had to offer. Mostly money. And when I say me, I mean the persona. The person they see in suits and Italian this and that. Not me. Not the man I am. Not my heart. Even Shiloh—she agreed to give me a baby because she needed something from me.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” I respond. I’m not about to give her the spill on the illegal kidney redistribution I’ve coerced. I don’t need to hear her rant about how unethical it is and how the rich think they’re above the law and all that…

  “You slept with Shiloh for the sole purpose of getting her pregnant.”

  “Yes.”

  “And she agreed to this?”

  “Yes, but I—I didn’t think I would feel anything for her, but I do. I couldn’t sleep last night. We made an agreement we’d try to get pregnant on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It’s only Thursday and I want her again. Not to get her pregnant but for the desire I have for her. This is the first time I’d had this feeling since Nicoletta died. That’s why I don’t understand why I’m having it now. With her. That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

  “It’s been a while since you lost Nicoletta.”

  “Five years.”

  “Maybe the sting of losing her has lost its grip on you to the point where you’re ready to find love again.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then what do you attribute your sudden desire for Shiloh to then, Magnus?”

  I shrug. “Maybe because there’s a chance she’ll be the mother of my child.”

  “But you didn’t have this feeling with the others?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s more to it than that. You like Shiloh.”

  “I do like her.”

  “Shrew.” She blows a breath. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What do you like about her?”

  “I like her eyes. She has beautiful eyes. I could stare in them all day. And her lips—they look good enough to bite. She’s delicate, and talkative and she gets under my skin. She’s a beautiful woman.”

  “And I’m certain you run across beautiful women like her all the time, Magnus. They’re probably throwing themselves at you—a successful black man. Handsome. Green eyes. Billionaire. You’re the walking cliché.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is, there has to be something other than Shiloh’s looks that has you feeling something for her. Tell me what it is. What is it about her that sets her apart from other women?”

  Saying good things about another woman makes me feel like I’m pushing Nicoletta further away. That’s why I’m hesitant. It takes all I have to say, “She’s a mess.” A smile I can’t force away comes to my face. “She’s a mess, but she’s also different.”

  “Different how?”

  “She lives one day at a time. She doesn’t like all the glitz and glamor. She doesn’t dress to impress anyone. She barely does anything to her hair. She’s—”

  “Sloppy?”

  “No.” I grin. “I know how it sounds, but she’s not sloppy. She’s—she’s simple. Yeah. Simple. And natural. There’s something refreshing about that for a guy like me.”

  “Who’s anything but simple,” she offers up.

  “Exactly.” I’m not simple in the least. My thoughts are always plenty. If I’m not thinking about my next idea, I’m dreaming about what my life would be like had I still had my family.

  Presently I find that my thoughts are tied up with Shiloh. Even now as I sit here, I wonder what she’s doing. Since I haven’t gotten a text, I assume she’s still at home. What is she doing? How does she feel about last night? It’s what I really want to know but since I told her not to attach feelings to this, there’s no need for me to ask. How would I look if I did something I told her not to do?

  “What do you know about Shiloh?”

  “She’s a waitress. She takes care of her father.”

  “Is her father sick?”

  “Yes. He needs a kidney.”

  “And Shiloh is his caregiver.”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “You could be attracted to the way she takes care of him.”

  “Yeah. Could be. I never got a chance to have a relationship with my parents so that’s a strong possibility. I admire that in her.”

  “And what else?”

  “She, uh…” Again, I’m careful with what I want to reveal regarding the money so I choose to speak about Shiloh as if I didn’t give her a dime. “She doesn’t have a lot but, she’s generous with what little she does have.”

  “And how do you know that, Magnus?”

  “I used to watch her—used to see her give to this homeless guy who didn’t have much. Truth be told, I probably would’ve walked right past the man and I have plenty of money. She has nothing but a two-dollar-an-hour waitressing gig where she relies mostly on tips for income—tips she hardly gets because she’s not the best at waitressing—and even still, despite her financial limitations, she buys this man food. That left an impression on me. Made me realize something Nicoletta tried so hard to drill in me. That we are not what we possess. The poorest man has the most wealth.”

  She nods. “Why did Nicoletta try so hard to get you to understand that?”

  “Before she died, she felt like we were blessed with so much and for her, it was as if we’d lost sight of who we
were before all the money.”

  “So you weren’t always rich.”

  “No. Everybody starts from somewhere, doc. When I met Nicoletta, I was twenty-five, just getting MJS off the ground. Three years later, we’d hit millionaire status. So for two years, we were livin’ it up. We had our baby boy. We’d go wherever we wanted. We’d do whatever we wanted. That’s when the guilt came over her. She said we were fortunate but there were less fortunate people in the world who’d be satisfied with much less than what we had. Around the same time, we donated to different charities, homeless shelters, food banks—she was happy with that and so was I. I still think she thought the money went to my head, though.”

  “Did it?”

  “In a way, but she kept me grounded.”

  “And that’s where Shiloh comes in…”

  “Yes. Money isn’t important to her. It is to a lot of people but not her. She doesn’t buy new clothes and shoes. I don’t think the girl owns a pair of genuine earrings. Everything about her is simple.”

  “And natural.”

  “Yes. And natural.”

  “Well, I happen to think it’s good you’re able to connect with Shiloh this way and maybe the relationship is worth exploring. Think about it this way—you’re intentionally trying to make a baby with this woman. Why not get to know her a little better, Magnus?”

  “Maybe.”

  I stand up, button my jacket and say, “Thanks for your time, doc.”

  “That’s it? You’re cutting it short?”

  “I called the meeting. Shouldn’t I say how long it lasts?” I ask. “We’ve been talking for about an hour. I don’t want to take all of your time. Besides, you’ve given me some good advice. I have a lot to think about now.”

  “Good. You know where I am if you need me.”

  * * *

  At the office, I have a similar conversation with Bransen. Now that he’s over the initial shock of my revelation to him that I married Shiloh, he’s better prepared to give me advice.

  “I’m with the doc,” Bransen says. “Why not take the time to get to know Shiloh? You already hit it, and it doesn’t look like you have any plans on quitting it.”

  I grin a little. Nah, I wasn’t about to quit it. Not when I was jonesing for the girl like a crack fiend.

  “I think the best course of action is to stay the course and continue on as we have been. She knows the rules. Knows my expectations. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea about us.”

  “I’m not sure it’s her who’s getting wrong ideas and whatnot.”

  “You’re right. I need to check myself.”

  Bransen shakes his head.

  “What is it, Bransen?”

  “Give her a shot, man? When you first told me about her, you already knew she was different from the other two. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe you two need each other. She’s beautiful. Dang. You better be glad you saw her first.”

  “Alright, get out of my office.”

  Bransen chuckles, but he knows I ain’t playing. “Okay, man, but don’t come complaining when some other cat who knows how to treat her steals her away from you. It won’t be easy to watch another man raise your child.”

  And then he exits, leaving me with his so-called wisdom. The truth is, I don’t want another man raising my child. Yeah, I knew that was a possibility out the gate – a possibility if I was no longer on this earth, but now I can’t fathom it. And her – don’t know if I can handle another man touching her.

  She’s…

  She’s…

  I close my eyes and breathe in and out. I smell her perfume. Hear her whimpers. See her smile. See depths in her eyes. Feel the most intimate part of her.

  She’s…

  She’s mine.

  “Magnus, I have a call for you from a Ramsey St. Claire,” Hilda announces via my phone’s intercom. “Should I put it through?”

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  She connects the call and I say, “Hi, is this Ramsey?”

  “Yes. Ramsey St. Claire. I got a message from my secretary to return your call. How can I help you?”

  “Let me properly introduce myself first. My name is Magnus St. Claire. I live in Charlotte and I grew up in the foster care system. I was wondering who your people were—wanted to find out if I had any relatives in this city. I know this is out of the blue, but my wife put me up to this so I want to follow through.”

  “I’ve heard your name a few times. We run in similar circles, but as for relation, that would be a question for my father.”

  “What’s your father’s name?”

  “Mason St. Claire. My mother’s name is Bernadette. Any of those names sound familiar?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I grew up in foster care. My parents are deceased and so is my foster mother.”

  “What are your parent’s names?”

  “My mother’s name is Abigail Miller. My father’s name is Micah St. Claire.”

  “I haven’t heard those names before, but I tell you what—I’ll pass it along to my father and see if he knows a Micah or a Magnus. What’s the correct spelling of your name?”

  I spell my name for him and then we’re off the phone. Now, it’s a waiting game. I still feel uneasy about doing this.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Shiloh

  Thursday came and went without a single word from Magnus, not that I was expecting to hear anything from him. Magnus only thinks about Magnus – not the poor girl from the bistro.

  Bright and super early on Friday morning, I walk out to the Porsche, throw my purse in the passenger seat and place my coffee thermos in the cup holder. The ding of the door alarm sings a tune in the silent darkness. The only lights available are the interior lights inside this vehicle.

  It’s cold.

  4:30 a.m. cold.

  The kind of cold that cuts to your bones before the sun shows its face. I have on a knit hat and gloves although I won’t need them when the car warms up. For now, I keep them on. The heat is cranked to the max.

  It’s too early to wake up Magnus with a text message alert about where I’ll be for the day. I could’ve told him yesterday, but I didn’t want that to be the first conversation we had after Wednesday night.

  So I just go, ready to take my father to healing.

  As I’m taking the driveway away from the guesthouse, I take a sip of coffee to help warm my body but nearly spill coffee all over myself when I see a dark figure out of nowhere appear in front of my car. It’s a man – a man dressed in all black.

  Am I seeing things? What was that?

  I look again thinking it was just my imagination. There’s nothing there. Nothing lurking in my headlights but then it appears again. A figure. A man.

  I panic. Who’s this guy lurking around Magnus’ property at four-thirty in the morning? And now, he’s standing in the path of my car. My headlights hold his frame. What do I do? Hit the gas? Run him over?

  My heart’s racing. I can’t run him over. I’ve never killed anything in my life. What do I do?

  I make sure my doors are locked then hit the horn repeatedly hoping the noise would wake Magnus. Maybe he’ll hear it. It depends on which wing of the house his bedroom is located.

  I lay on the horn again.

  The prowler doesn’t budge.

  He stands there, with his legs spaced apart like he’s daring me to hit him. Then he crosses his arms.

  That motion made me realize who I’m dealing with. My heart is still racing, but now I know the guy in black is Magnus. I flick on the high beams and now I can see his face. The headlights do interesting things to his eyes.

  He walks to the driver side of the car. I roll the window down to a small crack because I’m still terrified. “What on earth are you doing out here!”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Shiloh,” he says, his voice calm and even. “Where are you going?”

  It’s so cold out here, I can see his breath. My heart is still racing. He literally scared the pee out
of me. “I’m going to the—to the hospital.”

  “For what?”

  I catch a few breaths then say, “T—Today is the day of papa’s kidney transplant surgery.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” I catch more breaths, put my hand to my chest.

  “And when were you going to tell me about this?”

  “I don’t know—after I got to the hospital. When it was a decent hour. Do you realize what time it is?”

  He walks around the front of the car to the passenger side. He grabs and pulls at the handle, finding the door locked.

  “Unlock the door. I’m going with you.”

  “What?”

  “Unlock the door,” he requests louder.

  I think twice before unlocking the doors. I don’t want to. Future baby daddy is a little cray-cray.

  “Shiloh?”

  I hit the button – hear the locks release.

  He snatches the latch, gets inside and brings the cold air with him. He slams the door closed. “You should’ve told me,” he says checking to see if the heat is turned up.

  “I was going to tell you when it was daylight. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Then you should’ve told me yesterday.”

  “Okay. Well, you know now, so there’s no need to badger me about what I did or didn’t do.”

  I can feel his sharp gaze on me. I can hear him breathing. The tension between us has me remembering Wednesday night. The way he says, Mmm when he—

  “You’re impossible to deal with sometimes, girl. You know that?”

  “You wouldn’t have to deal with me at all if you were still in your bed sleeping like normal people. What are you doing lurking around your own freakin’ house at four-something in the morning, anyway?” I turn onto Providence Road.

  “I wasn’t lurking. I was in the kitchen where I have a good view of the guesthouse. I saw the lights on the Porsche come on so I figured I’d see what you were up to. Glad I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known anything about my father-in-law’s surgery.”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? That’s who Albert Winston is to me.”

  “You don’t know him.”