Chapter 8
Eliza gave a final nod after concluding her first presentation since her delivery. She wasn't as uncomfortable as she was a month ago when she had to stand up in front of the entire room with a very prominent belly.
With her final words to end the conference, she asked if there were any questions; and when she was returned head shakes, she shot her eyes over to Troy and scowled seeing as to how he was threatening to clap. Instead of striking his palms together, he sent her an evil grin and used his hands to pick up his folders instead.
Troy took in a deep breath and pulled his suit's blazer taut. Taking a few steps towards the presenter, he sighed, "I swear, I'm not here to bother you."
"You want to talk about the mismatched numbers you sent to me this morning?" she asked, with a smile twitching at the ends of her lips.
"You got it," he grinned.
Scrolling down the screen on her computer, Troy was sitting on the opposite side of her desk with his laptop, scanning the Excel files.
"I'm seeing the mismatched numbers begin around... December," Troy muttered.
Eliza scrunched her brows as she scrolled back up to December's notes, "That was during one of our highest selling periods, yes?"
"Indeed," Troy groaned while scratching his smooth chin. "Ninety-thousand dollars worth of credit, but one-hundred-five thousand-worth of debit following?"
"What could have happened?" Eliza promptly questioned.
"It's a Bluestar transaction, but it's definitely one that slipped by me. Blackwell is going to have my head," he sighed.
When he didn't hear a response or typing, he looked up to find Eliza quietly laughing to herself. Pleased that he was able to get a laugh out of her for the second time for the week, he shut his computer and leaned back in the chair.
"Well, thank you for sharing your notes with me, Ms. Kelly," Troy sighed with a broad smile, standing to his feet.
Startled, Eliza turned her chair to face him and asked, "Oh is that all that was needed?"
"Yes, ma'am," he laughed.
"Oh," she peeped.
He tipped an imaginary hat, "Alrighty, I'll see you–"
"Are you working through lunch?" she boldly interjected.
Pushing out his lower lip, he honestly answered, "I planned on it, but seeing as to how you helped me find the biggest problem to my day... I can see a lunch outing."
"Oh, okay. That aforementioned restaurant a few blocks down?" she questioned, while uncomfortably rubbing her hand behind her neck.
"Sounds good," he smirked.
Just as he approached the door, he looked back to find Eliza looking down at her phone before lifting it up to her ear.
"Oh, and Ms. Kelly?" Troy interrupted.
"Yes?" she innocently asked.
"Let's keep it professional," he winked before shutting the door behind him.
Troy let out a pleased exhale, but quickly turned his smile around as his vacant-eyed colleague was strutting towards Eliza's office.
"Daniels," Andrew grunted, but then was surprised at Troy's still feet.
Wondering why his coworker hadn't moved, Andrew questioned the man— that towered nearly a foot above him— with his eyes. Suddenly, Andrew was given the infamous Troy Daniels look-of-delight before the entrance to Eliza's office was finally cleared by the towering presence.
Andrew looked after Troy, while doing something he normally wouldn't have– knock at Eliza's door. He made sure to do it loud enough to confirm his suspicions, and like he thought, Troy turned back mid-stride at the formal gesture.
"Eliza," Andrew groaned, before he looked at her.
Eliza was frozen with the phone to her ear, and Andrew made his way to her desk to take a seat. She quickly murmured an abrupt farewell and hung up.
"Eliza, I'm not here to harass you," he sighed while lifting his ankle to his knee.
She folded her hands over her lap and leaned back in her chair.
He lifted his eyes up to her, trying to let her see that he was sincere with his sympathy, "Eliza. Please. She's half of me."
Eliza raised her brows, waiting for something of more substance.
"C'mon Eliza! I want to know about my daughter," he pleaded. "What's her name?"
Eliza kept her lips tight, taking in a deep breath and returning a lazy stare.
"Would you fucking say something?" he snapped.
She laced her fingers over her desk and looked at her hands, "You knocked, but I never gave you permission to enter."
He smirked, "You never needed permission bef–"
She immediately chimed, "This entire conversation is invalid because it should have never begun."
"Are you sleeping with him?" Andrew scowled, asking the blunt question out of nowhere.
"Am I sleeping with a man three weeks after delivering a child?" she repeated with almond-shaped eyes.
"It wouldn't be the first time you've slept with a fellow employee," he proudly scoffed.
"Am I sleeping with a man three weeks after having a baby?" she laughed to herself. "Mr. Louis, I suggest that you leave my office, travel down the hallway that is adjacent to the main conference room and have the SEO team teach you about the phenomenon called Google. The levels of research you can do with it will throw you asunder."
Then, her face was immediately set into a frown, matching his, "Anything else, Mr. Louis? I do have work to tend to with deadlines."
"I'm really shocked at how quickly you've learned to hate me, Eliza," he grunted.
She raised a brow and sighed, "You gave me more than enough time to fester it– eight and a half months and counting?"
He stood to his feet, "You can try to push me away as much as you want to, but she is my baby too."
"She does not–" Eliza began to exclaim, but she clenched down on her teeth. "See yourself out immediately, Mr. Louis. Now!"
"You regret what happened between us as much as I do!" he made sure to let her know.
Though she had no love for him, it hurt to hear him say something that invalidated what went on almost a year ago. Acting on instinct, she buried her face into her hands to hide her tears, and Andrew was proud to have the final say and make his way out of her office.
The first half of lunch with Troy was very quiet. In fact, she was hardly in the same place whenever she would easily drift off to watch the vehicles passing by.
"Ms. Kelly," Troy lowly called.
She didn't hear him and took in a deep breath, so Troy tilted his head in her direction and called her again– this time using her first name.
"Huh?" she questioned with wide eyes.
"Something's wrong," he pointed out with a twisted nose.
She stared into his eyes, trying to read his character. Her eyes wandered over his sun-kissed face, wondering if he really a good communicator or just nosy. Troy couldn't keep the hold of the exchange and looked down, immediately smiling at the dessert menu.
He had his brows lifted high with an evil boyish grin, "You know it's a good restaurant if they carry fud–"
"Andrew... Mr. Louis visited me again today," she blurted, promptly lowering her head from what she felt was a problematic confession.
She looked up to find that Troy's childlike demeanor had set into a unimpressed gaze while he no longer scanned, but scrutinized the small menu.
"Mr. Daniels?" Eliza whispered.
He didn't lift his eyes from the laminated sheets, and his grumble of an accent was heavy, "Just call me Troy, Ms. Kelly."
After a few more seconds of silence, he set the little book down and grunted, "There's no fudge."
"Troy... I... I don't want to involve you–" she began, but was cut off by the waitress that approached the table with their plates.
His smile was present again as he thanked the young lady and unfurled the silverware from his napkin. He looked up to Eliza and found pleading eyes looking to him.
Looking down at his plate, he began, "Ms. Kelly–"
"Call me Eliza," she anxiously corrected, clenching her hands in her lap.
Troy was surprised at her expression. It wasn't like her to be so openly upset and not be making every effort to exit the scene as fast as possible.
"What did he say to you?" Troy inquired with caution.
"He wanted to know her name," she muttered, staring at the baked Tilapia on her plate.
Troy took in a deep breath, "Did you tell him?"
She shook her head, "I couldn't. I really couldn't because she... she doesn't have one."
Troy threw his head back in surprise but then pieced together the lack of enthusiasm she's had since she gave birth alongside her difficult scenario.
"That's okay. A lot of parents don't have names for their kids for a while," he tried to cheer her up.
"I don't know if I want to give her one," she whimpered. "I don't know if I want to keep her."
For a moment, Troy was quiet. There was nothing he could say that would be in his bounds. However, there was something about her sadness that made him speak.
"You make whatever decisions you want," he firmly stated.
Eliza was suddenly baffled. Maybe it was easy for him to say it because it wasn't his own child, but it was odd for her to hear someone saying that she has a choice in whatever she wants to do. She was a valued member of Bluestar and where you rise, so does the intimidation and the intensity of feeling like you didn't belong. Sympathy from a man was not something she would ever expect. She assumed there would be immediate judgment towards her– for more than one reason.
"Who is helping you at home?" Troy asked, before taking a bite.
"Emmy. I mean... she's the nanny," Eliza sighed, finally picking up her utensils. "She's very good."
"That's nice. It's not easy to find the right person to look after kids of any age," he nodded.
Eliza didn't realize what was coming out of her mouth, as she muttered, "Sometimes I feel like the baby is closer to her."
Troy titled his head back in shock, but hurried to conceal his dumbfoundedness.
"She spends most of the day with her, but babies always know who their mothers are," he chuckled. "My sister worried about the same thing when she first left Charlie with a caretaker."
"Your sister?" she inquired with a lifted brow.
"Mmm hmm. She's my twin, and she's a single mom too," he smiled, and Eliza translated the hopefulness in his eyes.
"How old is the baby?" Eliza grumbled with eagerness.
"Almost a year old," the proud uncle cheered. "Charlie is a great little baby. I've been contemplating on what my sister will let me get her for her first birthday. Helen will strangle me, if it's too expensive."
Eliza covered up the sudden smile, and Troy slouched in his chair, "I know, I know. Our mother set us up with those names."
"It's clever," she snickered.
"Well, she had different names for us before she was in labor but never fails to remind us why she immediately changed them the second we were out," he playfully mocked.
"Why is that?" Eliza anticipated.
"We were supposed to come out over a weekend, but we did give her plenty 'o false alarms. Then, during an overnight stay at the hospital, our mom was asleep but then we decided it was time to be freed from her fertile womb. Our dad awoke from her panicked scream, then promptly tripped and knocked himself clean out on his attempt to call for help. Apparently, he swiped over some trays and even a vase on a small table, and all she could do was keep pressing the button for help as her husband lied face down surrounded by shattered glass and puddles of water. It was a disaster," Troy laughed.
"Wow. Your dad didn't get to see your delivery?" Eliza asked letting her smile fade.
Troy continued to chuckle, "Nope. He's as sour as a lemon about it to this day! Since then, he always stops before buckin' up from his seat."
Eliza simpered again as she took her first bite of food. Troy followed her gesture, but then asked, "What about you? Have an odd birth story?"
Eliza took her smile away and shook her head, "No. Never met my parents."
Troy felt his stomach turn and clenched down on his jaw.
She shrugged, "My brother and I were foster kids, and luckily they always took us together. We were never adopted, but it was okay. We kind of had each other, and by the time we had to be on our own, we had done well enough in school to go far."
"Geez, Eliza. You're even more swell than I thought," he fawned with his eyes fully opened.
She twisted her lips in confusion, and he finished, "You've really come up. You're such an important person that has earned everything on their own, am I right?"
Shocked that she was actually embarrassed by the compliments, her cheeks were hot while she shrugged.
"Awwc'mon, lil' lady. I'm guessing you don't compliment yourself a lot," he teased.
"I just... I guess," she murmured.
Troy settled his pokes of fun at her, and eased out with more validity, "You're a really strong woman, Eliza."
Again, her eyes were sad as she drifted out to the moving cars, but she was still with him this time.
To be seen as a strong woman wasn't something she wanted to think of. She was a hard worker, and she earned everything that she owned. The constant reminder that she wasn't a man, experiencing something out of the ordinary, was not something she cared for. If anything she just wanted to be seen as another strong and diligent person. Her gender always played into the identity she's worked so hard to detach from it.
"I'm going to suggest something crazy," Troy began after wiping his mouth with a napkin with a full stomach.
"I'm listening," she began, a little self-conscious that she would have to continue eating in front of him, while his plate was cleared.
He looked down at the remainder of her dish and said, "You should meet my sister sometime."
She covered her mouth with a fist and coughed from the completely unexpected response, "Pardon me?"
"You should meet my sister, Helen," he smiled broadly.
She immediately frowned, and was going to open her mouth to rebuke the thought, but he quickly lifted up his chin and said, "I didn't say you had to do anything, Eliza. I did say itwas a suggestion."
"I know, but why? Because we're single moms?" she asked, pinched at what he was implying.
He shrugged without a care, "Yeah."
"You don't think that's rude?" she questioned with narrowed eyes.
"Not really. It's one thing to have me around, but things got easier for my sister when she spoke to other single moms," Troy stated with innocence that was hard for Eliza to retort to.
"Doesn't she have your mother and maybe grandmother as well?" Eliza slightly panicked.
"That's what I asked her. I asked Helen why she was going to lunch outings just to meet other moms. I couldn't understand it, but then I'm not sure I ever could." Then he squinted up to the sun. "Maybe if I was a single dad... I could see wanting to understand how the other fellas coped with it."
Troy shrugged again before looking down to Eliza. She was stabbing her fork into the fish, and there was an exceptionally worried look on her face.
Troy suddenly realized how invasive he may have sounded and started, "Eliza... I really don't mean to–"
Yet sad eyes shifted to his and she asked, "When would that be possible? To meet your sister?"