Mr. Forever
title page
Mr. Forever
Sara Daniel
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An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Copyright Information
Mr. Forever, Copyright © Sara Daniel, 2011
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Musa Publishing
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Published by Musa Publishing, December, 2011
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-61937-001-2
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Editor: Elizabeth Silver
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Warning
This e-book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
Dedication
For David — my very own Mr. Forever.
To Erika, Karen, Lisa, Marilyn, and Simone — for friendship, laughs,
and advice. I included a word just for you. Twice.
Chapter 1
“You’re the father of my baby.”
It wasn’t the first time Dr. Caleb Paden had heard the accusation. Under the hot lights of the live television stage, where he routinely guided foolish couples on how to build a successful marriage, he would save this relationship and ensure a stable home for their child. But first he had to get the other half of the couple in front of the camera. Someone had missed their cue to bring out the father, so the chesty brunette was glaring at him.
“Did you hear me, Dr. Paden? You’re the father of my baby.”
“Is this a joke?” It must be. A cruel practical joke, with career-damaging consequences.
“It is not a joke,” the thin, blonde host of The Brighid Show replied in the thick Scandinavian accent that her fans loved.
Clearly, this was a gigantic misunderstanding. The child wasn’t his. He hadn’t carelessly knocked anyone up. He was discreet and meticulous about using protection. No child of his would go through the type of childhood he’d endured. If people followed his advice, no child anywhere would go through it.
“Don’t you remember last year in Vegas?” The accusing woman folded her arms across her chest, pressing her breasts against her thin red shirt.
“I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.” But as he said it, he felt just as baffled and frustrated as he had that night in Vegas.
“You deny you had sex with me?”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny it. Worse, he still didn’t remember her name.
“I don’t believe it’s feasible that I’m your child’s father.” He kept his voice neutral, although he felt anything but calm. “I’d be happy to discuss your situation in private.” Not on national television. He never aired his own issues. Never. “Brighid, I know our time is limited. Let’s bring out today’s Forever Marriage couple.”
“Nobody else today.” Bridgette almost let her accent slip. His brother’s ex-wife was enjoying watching him squirm. “My audience and I are much more interested in how you and Jennifer will settle your differences for the sake of your child.”
The woman’s name was Jennifer. Gaining that piece of information, no matter how insignificant, helped settle him. Data and facts were his friends. They were at the foundation of all his advice.
“I don’t have a situation anymore,” Jennifer said, her confrontational tone replaced with satisfaction. “I needed to tell you I had a baby and now he’s yours. I’m not cut out to be a mother. I tried the whole settling-down-in-a-small-town-to-provide-what’s-best-for-the-kid thing. It’s not for me. I’m going back to Vegas.”
Caleb looked around, his stomach knotted with panic. “Where’s the baby now?” He couldn’t allow a backstage assistant to tote the child out in front of the camera. As an adult, he was certain he’d feel the repercussions of this disaster for years to come. It was always worse for the children. Always.
“I found someone to watch him until you can pick him up. He’s in Illinois. Don’t worry. This lady is a foster parent — well, almost. She wants to be one. I practically did her a favor by letting her keep the kid and get some practice.”
They were currently in New York. The baby’s mother was on her way to Las Vegas. And the child was in Illinois with some woman who didn’t have the qualifications to be a foster parent. He had to get the child into a stable situation immediately. Once that was settled, he’d make an appointment for a paternity test and prove once and for all that this woman’s accusations had no merit.
“The lawyers are researching if we have a claim to file a breach of contract suit with The Brighid Show. I’ll personally haul her back to court for violating the terms of our divorce.” Ethan yanked Caleb into the waiting limousine. “In the meantime, hello, you have a kid? You could have warned me before it was announced to the entire nation. Advanced warning equals damage control.”
Caleb leaned back in the seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There was no advanced warning for me either.”
“Is there a chance the kid’s yours?”
He wanted to believe there was absolutely no chance. But celibacy was the only one hundred percent guarantee, and he wasn’t a priest. “I did sleep with her, so there’s a chance. I used a condom. I’m sure of that. I’m careful. I’m always careful for exactly this reason.”
“Yeah, you’re Mr. Responsible.”
The resentment in Ethan’s voice frustrated him even more. “Hey, I met her because I flew out to talk some sense into you before you tied the knot for the third time. When you blew me off and said your vows in front of Elvis and a dozen showgirls, I went to the hotel bar for a couple drinks.”
“You had a one-night stand with a woman you met in a bar? I take back what I said about you being cautious and responsible.”
“She was the bartender.” And she’d been sympathetic to his frustration that he could fix marriages all over the country but couldn’t fix the ones in his own family. They were both single, consenting adults and had used protection. He had nothing to apologize for, certainly no reason for his career to blow up on live TV.
Despite that, he had a baby to think of, a child that only he could act in the best interest of. He opened the window to the driver. “Take me to the helipad.” He closed the window and looked at his brother. “I need the plane to take me to Illinois, ASAP.”
“For all you know, she did the same thing with a different man every night. She probably has no idea who the child’s father is. Being on national television makes you a visible target,” Ethan said. “The lawyers will arrange with the court to have the kid’s DNA tested. I’ll spin the PR in the meantime. If he does end up being yours, then you can pick
him up and we’ll arrange a nice father-son photo op.”
Caleb couldn’t believe Ethan was talking photo ops while he was panicking over lives being ruined. “I’m aware this is a disaster for my company and my reputation. But first, I have to get to this child who’s been abandoned by his mother and make sure he’s safe.”
“You mean you’re actually going to follow the whole Children — First Priority mantra?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “Just because you have a book out with that title doesn’t mean anyone’s going to believe you practice what you preach.”
“Then you have a PR job to do,” Caleb said. Too many people had turned on him today. He needed Ethan’s support. “Children are and always have been my first priority. You do what you need to do to make sure everyone knows that.”
Ethan leaned toward him across the limousine seats. “If the kid ends up being yours, you’ll have to get married.”
“I’m not marrying a woman who abandons her baby.” Not to mention, one who chose to blithely air her decision in front of the whole country. He didn’t even know the baby’s name. He only knew the gender because of pronouns.
“Not to Jennifer. To a woman who believes in The Forever Marriage. To a woman who will model your holy commandment of friendship is more important than any physical encounter. I’m going to have a hard time convincing people you actually believe that sound bite when you have kids popping up across the country from one-night stands and you don’t have a single female friend in sight.”
“One accusation hardly constitutes kids popping up across the country. And I use Forever with every breath I take.” Marriage was Caleb’s life. If he had a spouse, he’d have to take time for her, leaving him less time to devote to marriage. Forever was the roadmap to make relationships divorce-proof and give children a stable home.
“If I’m going to spin anything, you have to give me something to work with.” Ethan opened his briefcase and took out a manila envelope. He dumped it on the seat next to him, covering the black leather with white and pink envelopes. A fuchsia one fluttered to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“This is about your personal commitment. Pick one.”
“How is picking a mystery envelope going to fix my reputation?” Not to mention the life of an innocent child, who’d done nothing to deserve being brought into the world under these circumstances.
“These letters are from the office mailroom. The women who wrote them have embraced Forever and want to marry you. At least they did before they saw The Brighid Show today. Pick one and contact her. If you want to restore the public’s faith in your commitment to raising children in wedded bliss, you have to show them that you’re doing it in your own life.”
“You carry these around with you, waiting for the right moment to have me pick a wife by playing ‘Go Fish’?” The idea was absurd. Surely, Ethan could see that.
“Actually, I was going to cull through them for possible candidates for me. I am on the hunt for a wife, you know.”
Caleb clenched his jaw. As if three failed marriages weren’t enough to make a mockery of The Forever Marriage, Ethan was considering getting hitched a fourth time. But going off on him would be more than hypocritical right now. Caleb had more important things to focus on than his brother’s relationship history. “I know the situation looks bad right now. But we have solid examples on our support staff. John and Debbie Winston, for example, have been married thirty-five years, follow the rules to the letter, and couldn’t be happier. Plus, they have four children who are well-adjusted, model citizens.”
Ethan picked the fuchsia envelope off the floor and thrust it at him. “Using others as examples worked fine until Jennifer dropped the baby bomb and made you look like a fraud on national TV. Next time you sleep with a woman, give her your cell number so she can discuss these things with you privately.”
Caleb tossed the envelope back on the pile without opening it. “I’ll set up a conference call for first thing tomorrow morning with our counselors and staff, to reassure them of my commitment to marriage.” Between now and then, he’d go to Illinois, pick up the child who might or might not be his son, and make the first step in placing the baby in a stable environment.
“Do you want to be a therapist that people look up to for advice and respect, or do you want to be sneered at by the world and never see your face on TV again?” Ethan opened the fuchsia envelope and scanned what appeared from Caleb’s vantage point to be a Valentine’s Day card.
“I’d be perfectly happy never to see another television camera in my life. I do the TV gig because it gives more highly effective exposure to Forever than I can get through any other medium.”
“Don’t worry. Getting exposure is the least of your problems now.” Ethan dangled the valentine in front of him. “This woman thinks you have a hot body.”
“Not a Forever requirement.”
Unperturbed, Ethan picked up another envelope and slit it open. “How about this one? ‘Dear Dr. Paden, I am a firm believer in Forever.’”
“A promising start,” he allowed, turning around to check in with the limo driver for an updated timing on when they’d get through the traffic snarl in Times Square, so he could text updates to the helicopter and airplane pilots, who wanted to leave right away to land ahead of the snowstorm barreling in on the middle of the country.
“I’m looking for a rich husband, and you fit the bill. The thought of having sex with an arrogant prick like you really turns me off. But we can still be friends, of course.” Ethan raised a brow. “How many women are going to give you an offer like that? Are we on? I can book the reception hall and the caterers.”
Caleb put his cell phone away and glared at him. “Why don’t you do something useful like polish your résumé?”
Threats of firing, unfortunately, had no effect on family. Ethan dumped the letter for another envelope. He ripped it open, and his eyes widened. “Forget the gold digger. This is the one you want in your bed.” He turned the page toward Caleb. He caught a glimpse of overinflated breasts before Ethan turned the picture toward himself and shamelessly ogled it. “On second thought, she needs someone who will appreciate her fine qualities, not be her friend.”
“Mock me to my face all you want,” Caleb said, his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached. “If you do it to the press, I will fire you. I don’t care if you’re the best marketing man in the world and my only brother.”
“I am the best,” Ethan said confidently. “And your only brother too.”
“That’s why I need you to have my back for the next couple days while I straighten out the situation with the baby. A child is at stake here.”
As soon as he picked up his son, Caleb would find the nearest hotel and pack it in for the night. He hadn’t seen a snowplow or salt truck, let alone another car. Heck, he could hardly see the road through the blowing snow. The best-case scenario of making it back to his Manhattan apartment by nightfall clearly wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t even going to make it back to Chicago.
Apparently, his airplane pilot had made the right call by refusing to fly into the storm. They’d landed near Chicago, instead of continuing to the western side of the state to the landing strip near Galena. But that meant Caleb had been trying to navigate the unfamiliar rental car for hours as the road conditions deteriorated to a near whiteout.
The car fishtailed. Caleb fought the steering wheel to keep it on the road. Or at least where he thought the road was.
“Arriving at destination, on right,” the GPS announced from its perch on the dash.
Caleb pressed the brake pedal to make the turn. The car skidded and slid again. Where was the driveway? On the GPS screen, the blue car cruised by the checkered flag graphic. When he looked away from the screen, everything was white. He was in the middle of nowhere. There was no driveway.
Caleb squinted through the fat flakes that battered his vehicle from all sides. Behind him to the right, the top of a mailbox might hav
e been sticking out of the snow. He stopped the car in the middle of the road. Trying to stay on the road while driving in reverse seemed risky at best. He needed to turn around. He swung to the shoulder to execute a three-point turn. Then he twisted the wheel and went forward. The tires spun. After a breathless moment, the car shot forward.
Caleb slammed the brakes and nearly skidded into the ditch. The car stopped just in time. He took a deep breath and reevaluated the situation. He was doing this to save a child. It was worth it. Every second was precious. He was okay. The car was okay. He had to keep going.
He shifted into reverse. The tires spun again. He lifted his foot, then pushed the gas all the way down. The car shot backwards. He let off immediately and went for the brake. The car continued to slide backwards, mocking any control he tried to exercise. Unless he did something fast, he was going to slide backwards into the ditch.
He turned the wheel to keep himself on the road. The car spun in circle and then slid in slow motion, nose first, down the steep bank into the ditch.
“Arriving at destination, on left,” the GPS chirped.
The man who had promised to save her marriage — and instead ended it — was standing on Olivia’s doorstep. She pinched the plastic clip back into her perennially tousled hair and took in his half-frozen form and snow-coated suit as he told her his too-familiar name. Somehow, he still managed to look like his stuffy book jacket picture.
“Come in, Dr. Paden.” She stepped back from the door to allow him inside. “I didn’t expect you or anyone, really, would come for Liam tonight.” The storm had been the answer to her prayers, giving her extra hours and potentially days to get used to the idea. Jennifer had been more than ready to walk away from the boy, but Olivia was not. It would break her heart to let him go.
Knowing she had to let him go to this man made it that much more difficult.
“His name is Liam?” Dr. Quack’s teeth chattered as he stepped inside.