Dirty Grovel: Chapter 22

The next morning, we deal with Jesse’s day off and my bad mood by grabbing coffee in the city after dropping Teo and Bear off with his grandparents.

I’m feeling marginally better than I was when she finally got home last night—although that might have a little something to do with the fact that this is my second hot chocolate of the day.

“So—tell me everything,” I order as Jesse sits across from me, beaming like the Cheshire Cat. “How was it? Did he pay for dinner? Did he kiss you at the end of the night?”

Jesse laughs. “It was great. Yes, he did pay for dinner, even though I offered to split. Yes, he did kiss me and before you ask, yes, it was amazing!”

I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m so happy for you, Jess.”

She bites her lip and plays with the utensils beside her. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It was just one date, after all. And what if it doesn’t work out? We’ve been friends for almost ten years. Can we go back to being friends if it doesn’t work out or have I just shot those chances to hell?”

“Whoa, whoa,” I protest, holding up my hands. “Why are we talking about a break-up before you guys have even started a relationship?”

“Because I tend to overthink.”

“Well, stop,” I insist. “You need to enjoy this part. There’s nothing like the excitement, the butterflies, the anticipation of a new relationship.”

She smiles nervously. “Is it naïve to say that I really hope this works out?”

“Not at all,” I reply, ignoring the tug at my chest. “Why is it lame to admit that you want a happily-ever-after? I do, even though I know it’s not going to happen.”

Jesse’s eyebrows rise. “You said that with a lot of confidence.”

I shrug. “I’ve only ever been confident about two things in my life. The first is that my mother should really stay single. And two, I wasn’t meant for a fairy tale ending.”

“Sutton…”

“Sorry,” I interject. “I didn’t mean to turn the conversation around on me.”

“I’m glad you did. We need to talk about whatever it is that’s got you so down this morning.” My brow furrows and Jesse nods. “Yes, I noticed. You’re not as hard to read as you think.”

I smile weakly. “Just when it comes to men then.”

She crooks her fingers towards me. “I command thee to spill. Did something happen between you and Oleg? I noticed him walk away fast when I drove up last night.”

“It’s not worth mentioning.”

“Clearly, it is, if you’re still riled up about it.”

“It’s just more of the same,” I mumble, head hung low. “I feel like I have no autonomy, no control over my own life or the direction it’s going in. I’m just floundering here, at the mercy of a man whose list of priorities is ten feet long. And I’m at the very end of that list.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Sighing, I shrug. “I don’t know what I mean, I just know that I have to do something. Find some purpose. Get out of this rut I’m in and take charge of my life.”

Jesse looks intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“A job, for one. Maybe that’ll help me find a life outside of Oleg and his sky-high walls. And it’ll also mean I’m not wholly dependent on him. I have to do this—for myself, for my baby, and for my sister.”

“Having your own money is important, Sutton,” Jesse advises. “That’s something both my parents taught me early on. It doesn’t matter how well you marry—make sure you have something of your own so that you’re not beholden to anyone.”

“Sound parental advice. It’s very different from the advice I got growing up.”

“What advice did you get?”

“Let’s see…” I pretend to think. “‘Don’t put out unless you know for sure he’s rich’?”

Jesse’s jaw plummets to the table. “She did not.”

“Hand to my heart, that’s what she told me. She wasn’t kidding, either. I was twelve. Also, in case you were wondering, according to my mother, the best way to keep a good man is to get pregnant.”

Jesse drops her face into her hands. “She sounds like an… interesting woman.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘troubled,’” I sigh. “My mother was a troubled woman. Sydney and I never had a chance in hell.”

“I can’t speak to your sister but I’d say that you’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

I laugh out loud, the sound soaked in self-loathing. “I’m the pawn of a wealthy man, stuck playing by his rules because I have no money or security of my own. What part of that counts as ‘doing pretty well’?”

“Well, we can change that,” Jesse says. “We can find you a job. You like working with children, don’t you?”

“Love it.” I nod. “Working in childcare is the dream.”

Jesse shakes her head at me. “‘The dream,’” she echoes under her breath. “You really are different from all the others.” She pulls out her phone and starts typing fast.

I squint down at it. “What are you doing?”

“I know someone who runs a daycare about two blocks from here,” Jesse explains. “Last I heard, she was looking for some extra help. If the position is still available, I think we might have hit the jackpot. She’s an awesome boss. She’s open-minded, progressive—and, added bonus, she’s related to me. If I recommend you, she’s sure to hire you, no questions asked.”

“Oh my God, Jess, you’re an absolute life saver!”

“Hold the phone—we don’t know if the position is still up for grabs. Cross your fingers in case— Oh! She’s typing back.”

I cross everything I can cross while I wait for the reply. Jesse’s eyes start flying across the screen. Then she beams.

“What?” I exclaim. “What did she say?”

“The position is still available. She’s happy to meet you. I told her we were two blocks away and she told us to come on over for an informal interview.”

“Right now?”

“There’s no time like the present, right?” She winks at me and pats the back of my hand where it rests on the table. “I think this is the universe’s way of supporting your newfound goal to be independent.”

I throw some money onto the table and clamber to my feet. “The universe hasn’t really been my friend lately. Maybe my luck is changing.”

“Or maybe you are changing.” Jesse smiles. “The only luck that matters is the luck we make for ourselves.”

I shake my head. “We had very different childhoods.”

“That couldn’t have gone better!” Jesse squeals as we exit her cousin’s daycare facility. “Meryl loved you!”

I can’t stop the cheesy smile from spreading one notch wider. I’m on cloud nine.

“The feeling is mutual. She seems really cool.”

“Of course she’s cool—she’s my cousin.” Jesse winks, giving me a nudge with her elbow. “You’re officially on the payroll now.”

“I can’t quite believe it.” I slap my palms together and suppress a happy little scream. “That happened so fast!”

“Guess it was meant to be.” She gestures towards the sprawling array of tents in the middle of the town square. “Mind if we stop by the farmer’s market? I can stock up on all the fancy ingredients that your baby daddy loves.”

“Of course, I’d like to look around myself.”

“Great, how about we meet right here in an hour?”

We part ways. Jesse goes to the spice section and I make my way to the fresh produce. The smell of fresh berries is calling to me.

I spend a good fifteen minutes at the fruit stand, smelling a variety of fruits, each one sweeter and more luscious than the last. Considering I’m now earning a monthly paycheck, I feel well within my rights to celebrate with a nice piece of tropical fruit.

I end up balancing a huge papaya in both hands, reveling in the fragrant aroma…

… when I happen to look up.

Right across the street is a quaint little café with outdoor seating. Seated at one table is a familiar face I didn’t expect to see today. Every seat is filled, but he’s still the most conspicuous diner by a long shot.

Even if I didn’t know Oleg, I would have noticed him immediately. The man’s looks just might qualify as one of nature’s wonders. And his scars add another dimension to his dangerous beauty.

I realize I’m practically drooling and this time, it has nothing to do with the fruit on offer.

“Ma’am?” the vendor says, trying to draw my attention back to her produce. “See anything else you like?”

“Yes, I do,” I sigh. “But I’m afraid I can’t have it.”

“What was that?”

I shake the question off with a smile. “Nothing.”

Oleg seems to be by himself, a cup of coffee perched in front of him as he scrolls through his phone.

I wonder if he’s waiting for someone, though? Perhaps yet another leggy blonde with zero percent body fat?

Not sure I’m mentally prepared for that today.

Then, just as I’ve decided that Oleg is simply enjoying a cup of coffee on his own, a woman walks up to him. Skinny, well-dressed and imperious, she stands over Oleg, her Prada bag’s buckle glinting in the sunlight.

My chest tightens as she places the bag on the table and takes the empty chair beside Oleg.

But this time, it’s not a former flame I have to worry about.

No—this woman presents a totally different set of problems.

Because this is Oksana Pavlova.

Oleg gives his mother a curt nod, his head turning in my general direction as though he knows he’s being watched.

I duck behind the fruit stall, hoping the strings of bananas will hide me.

“Are you taking that papaya, ma’am?” the vendor presses.

I look down at the papaya in my hands. I’ve gouged cuts into the fruit’s soft flesh with my nails. So, like it or not, I guess I’m taking this baby home.

Along with the new weight resting in the pit of my stomach.