A Love That Lasts Read online

  A Love That Lasts

  Tory Baker

  Contents

  1. Callie

  2. Jamie

  3. Callie

  4. Jamie

  5. Callie

  6. Jamie

  7. Callie

  8. Jamie

  9. Callie

  10. Jamie

  11. Callie

  12. Jamie

  13. Callie

  14. Jamie

  15. Callie

  16. Jamie

  17. Callie

  18. Jamie

  19. Callie

  20. Jamie

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Autor Links

  Also by Tory Baker

  Copyright © 2020 by Tory Baker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Callie

  I’m doing it. I’m actually freaking doing it. I landed this job after having Clairabella, and I’ve stuck with it for damn near six years, but I just can’t take it anymore. I’ve always kept work separate from my home life, but almost missing out on my daughter’s recital was the final straw. I typed up my resignation letter, banging on the keyboard harder than is necessary.

  I took this job under the presumption of being an Administrative Assistant. Don’t get me wrong; I started from the bottom and worked my way up to where I am today. In the past two years, though, I’ve been at my boiling point with Mr. Rodriquez.

  It could be his authoritative voice or the way, when he’s working, he’s so involved. While it may be for the greater good of helping others, he’s quite simply a dick of all major dicks. No, he’s not only that; he’s a raging bull in a China shop if you’re in his way.

  My work email going off doesn’t deter me. I put the finishing touches on my resignation letter, print it off, and sign my name. Then I do what I should have done two years ago. Clairabella deserves more than her mom working so much, and I hate that my child is being shuffled between my parents’ house, Presley, Lyla’s and my own. I’m done with it. I want to be home to help her with homework, cook a real honest to goodness dinner, and to always be able to tuck my little girl into bed.

  “Callie,” Mr. Rodriquez bellows my name, and I let out a puff of air. You could probably hear me a state over with the way I’m feeling right now. I stand from the seat at my desk, smooth my skirt down so it’s not hiked up from when I was sitting, grab my resignation letter, and march into his office.

  “Coming,” I finally say while I take my sweet time. I take in one last deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

  “It’s now or never,” I tell myself. I knock on his door even though it’s slightly ajar. I learned on my first day, over two years ago, when I was transferred to work in this department, you always knock, no matter what, or you’ll really hear his wrath.

  “Come in,” he grunts. I push the door open. It’s really too bad he’s such a jerk. Jamie Rodriquez’s voice, when he isn’t a total douche, is smooth with a hint of rasp and the lilt of Spanish when he’s in a heated discussion or on the rare occurrence he’s in a good mood. Not to mention, he is drop-dead gorgeous, but his personality makes me want to wring his neck. I swear to all that is holy, if Clairabella ever behaved like him, I would have no problem putting her in her place.

  “Good afternoon. You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, I need you to stay late tomorrow evening. There’s a client coming in for a six o’clock appointment,” Jamie states.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rodriquez, but I won’t be here. I have it on the schedule.” I can see it coming already, but I’m ready for it. After last week, I knew today was going to be the final straw.

  “That won’t be happening. I’ll need you here to take meeting minutes.” I see the frown lines marring his face like he literally has no idea I had this taken care of weeks ago.

  “Then I hate to do this, but this is my resignation letter. I’ll be leaving at the end of the day today. I don’t care if you don’t give me a reference, but after two years of you doing this to me, I’m done. I’ve talked to human resources many times, and guess what? They side with you, so now, I’m done. I’ve had enough. I don’t deserve this, and my daughter doesn’t deserve this. Consider this my notice. At the end of the day today, I’m not coming back, Mr. Rodriquez.” I slam my hand down on his desk for extra emphasis. His mouth is open and gasping for something to say.

  With that, I turn on my heel, open the door, and close it behind me. I probably should have slammed it shut, just so he could feel the wrath of what he’s done to me day in and day out. He’s lucky I haven’t called an attorney on his own attorney self. No, instead, I close the door with a soft click. I look at my desk, and as much as I want to cry, I don’t. Instead, I suck it up and head to the copy room to grab a box. I’ve made a couple of friends here over the years, but nobody it won’t kill me to say goodbye to. And isn’t that shitty? Six years here with not a whole lot to show for it.

  I whisk up the empty box that’s by the printer, go back toward my desk, and start going through my drawers. I have an extra coffee mug I keep here in my desk that Clairabella and I painted at one of those pottery stores. Seeing it makes me smile. Sure, things might be tight for a few weeks until I find a new job, but I’ve been through worse and came out better.

  Packing up my desk takes less than ten minutes. I place the box beside my desk and finish working for the day. I don’t wonder if Mr. Rodriquez will ask me to stay because I know he won’t. The fact that he can treat any human being like this is appalling. I’ve met his mother before, and something tells me if she saw how he worked me to the bone, thinking overtime pay would make it better, I think she’d take that huge purse she’s always carrying and wallop him on the side of the head.

  I grab my phone and shoot a text to our group chat. Callie knew this was coming while Presley was encouraging me to do so as well.

  Me: I did it. I finally freaking did it.

  Lyla: YES! Wine tonight?

  Presley: I am so damn proud of you, and yes, wine STAT.

  Me: I’m down. Tell me where and I’ll be there. Love you!

  Lyla: Backatcha! My place works. Bring Bella.

  Presley: Love you, girls!

  Me: I couldn’t have done this without my tribe. I better finish my day out before “the dragon” appears.

  I put my phone back in my purse and get back to work with a bright smile on my face. This is the first time in months I’ve had a reason to smile while at work. Yeah, this might have been the best idea yet.

  2

  Jamie

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I can’t believe that just happened. I think I really screwed up, and something tells me Callie isn’t going to be easily persuaded to stay.

  Sitting back in my chair, I take in the scenery before me. It’s everything I’ve wanted in life; to be the owner of a law firm has always been my dream. I watched mi Madre work two jobs to keep a roof over our heads, struggling, unwillingly taking the state help we could receive. I watched a youthful young lady age overnight, and I hated every moment of it. That’s why, at the age of thirty-seven years old, I am the way I am.

  And look at what I’ve done—the same thing my own mother had to deal with. Dickheads come in every shape and size. I’m pretty sure, if you looked me up in Callie’s dictionary under dickhead, my picture would appear.

  Cursing myself again, I do the one thing I know will give me even more grief right now. Yet, I do it anyways. I can’t believe she has a chil
d; there are no pictures on her desk of her. She’s barely asked for time off over the years, and even when she took a week off for a friend’s wedding, she still made it so that she was reachable. Callie should be calling me every name under the sun.

  I pick up the phone, dialing my mom. The phone rings on the other end. Try as I might to get her to quit, she still works, though nowadays, she owns her own clothing boutique. She wouldn’t even take a loan from me, let alone money. Nope, she wanted to do it alone. I guess that’s why I probably did the same thing when I went to law school. I busted my ass for every scholarship I could get, only using student loans to cover the rest.

  “Mijo, how are you today?” she asks. Shit, I know it’s coming. I’m not looking forward to it.

  “Mom, I’ve had better days, but first, how is your day going? Any new high rollers come in and clear you out?”

  “Oh, Jamie, what did you do?” She doesn’t even answer my question. My mother still has that intuition even now.

  “Shit, how do you always know when I do something wrong? Couldn’t it have been the other way around?”

  “I know you. You have a lot of your mother in you. We hate to admit when we’re wrong, and it’s even worse when we feel like we failed somehow.” I hear the hushed tone. I know she sometimes feels that she let me down, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “I screwed up with my assistant. Did you know she has a daughter?”

  “Oh, yes, I know all about Clairabella. She looks so much like Callie it’s astonishing. Why? Didn’t you?” She sounds shocked.

  “I had no idea. This may be worse than I thought. She turned in her resignation, and I can’t even blame her. The problem is that I don’t want to let her go, but she’s pretty dead set on this being her last day.” I let out a breath of air, stand from my desk, and pace. It’s something I do when I’m trying to think about my next step in a court case, but sadly, I can’t think of Callie that way.

  “Well, I’d say I love you, but you’re a dumbass. You need to apologize and open your eyes to see what a treasure you have to not only have her work for you, but also, she’s a gorgeous woman. I was hoping this call would be about something else, something much more than you not pulling the stick out of your behind and seeing what is right in front of you.” I hear the lilt of her accent.

  “God, Mom, I know you want me to get married and settle down, but really? She’s my assistant.”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain with me. You want me to hit you up the side the head?” Her voice is getting higher in pitch.

  “Sorry, sorry. But, really, I do need help. I have to make it right. If she really does leave, I’m up shit creek without a paddle. There’s no one else that can do what Callie can and do it so smoothly without me having to ask twenty times a day. You know how it was before.” I’m still pacing, probably wearing a hole in the carpet with all of this walking.

  “Well, son, I guess you need to get on your knees and grovel. But, hey, if she doesn’t stay, maybe I can offer her a job here.” Knowing my mom, she’s coming up with a plan to do just that.

  “Don’t steal her away yet. I love you, Mom.”

  “Te amo, Jamie.” Some things never change with my mom, and I hope they never will. She didn’t give me a lick of help. Going to sit behind my desk, I come up with a plan. Let’s hope it’s a solid one.

  3

  Callie

  Mr. Rodriquez never came out of his office for the rest of my last day, so when quitting time came, I grabbed my box, closed my computer down for the last time, and walked out the door with my head held high. It was the greatest feeling, as if the weight of the world wasn’t on my shoulders.

  I’m sure my parents will be disappointed that I haven’t secured another job first, but that’s kind of hard to do when you work all of the crazy hours I did.

  I place my box of items in the back of my 4Runner, something all of our fathers shook their heads about—always wanting us girls to drive a Chevy or a Ford—but I chose something that was more of a luxury. I knew, with carting around Clairabella to dance now and who knows what else in the next few years, I would need something that can accommodate both of us while getting decent gas mileage. Once that’s done, I hop in and head straight to the grocery store to stock up on wine and snacks.

  Before leaving, I was able to sneak in another text and ask the girls if we could change plans and get together at my house. Clairabella has school tomorrow, so for the first time in months, I’ll be able to make breakfast for her, drop her off at school, pick her up, help her with homework, and we can cook dinner together. Tears fill my eyes just thinking about all of the amazing memories we have coming our way. I know I’ll have to find another job within the next few weeks to maintain my bills, but I’m going to be picky about where I choose to work next.

  It only takes me ten minutes to get to the grocery store, and I grab all the snacks plus a treat for Clairabella. Between the girls and my parents, everyone makes sure she eats a wholesome meal when I can’t, but let’s be honest, my girl loves her some mac and cheese with a side of broccoli, so that’s what I’ll make her tonight. Although, I know she’ll be into the chips and dip just like the rest of us girls will be.

  Making quick work and what seems like two-hundred-dollars’ worth of food and wine later, I load everything up, then go get my girl at her grandparents’ house. I’m really hoping they won’t give me too much of a hassle when I let them know I’ll have Claira the rest of the week.

  Taking my time to get to my parents’ house is not something I usually do, but I swear if my father tries to talk me into moving in with them, I may run away with my hands in the air while screaming. The sad part is, even taking my time, I get to their place in less than fifteen minutes. I guess that’s the price you pay for living in a small town.

  I pull into my childhood home that hasn’t changed much except for the color of the house and the plants that are in the flower beds. Mom never wanted anything new or flashy, and Dad was A-Okay with that. I barely open my door when I see the light of my life running toward me.

  “Momma!”

  “Hey, baby girl!” I have to brace my legs so she doesn’t tackle both of us down to the ground. Instead, I pick her up in my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I soak in the smell that is Claira. It’s the combined scent of our laundry detergent, the shampoo in her hair, and the underlying hint of sunshine on her skin. She must have been outside with my mom working in the garden.

  Clairabella is the spitting image of me, from her red hair to her deep grey eyes, pouty lips, and even her sassy attitude. God, am I thankful for that every day. I could never imagine not seeing her smiling face or hearing her giggle like crazy when I sing our special good morning song, yet that’s what Claira’s dad gave away when he willingly signed over his rights the day she was born. That’s okay, though. I have enough love to give her, and our family makes sure she never misses out.

  “Did you have a good day with Gran and Pop?”

  “Only the best, well, besides school, of course. I even got to ride with Auntie Pres since Uncle Linc had the boys.” Her pin-straight hair swooshes as she talks to me.

  “That is awesome. I have some great news to tell you, but first, I need to talk to Gran and Pop. Plus, I have your favorite for dinner in the car.”

  Her arms go up, and she wiggles down until she does her happy dance. “Thanks, Momma. You’re the best.”

  “Sure, you just want your dinner, huh?” I tickle her side as I chase her up the driveway and toward the house.

  “Gran, Pop! Mom is here.” We walk down the hallway that leads to the back patio where my dad is reading the newspaper, and my mom is working on the flower bed outside of the screened-in porch.

  “Hey, snookums.” I go toward him, giving him a hug.

  “Hey, Pops. Hey, mom,” I respond. She takes her gloves off before coming inside the patio to get a hug as well.

  “Hey, you’re here earlier th
an normal.” Mom kisses my cheek, and I return the gesture.

  “About that… Hey, Claira, can you go make sure your bag is ready, then play on your iPad for a few minutes? I need to talk to Gran and Pops, and then we’ll head home.” I give her a wink, and her grin widens.

  “Oh shit, what happened now?” Dad grunts.

  “You might be disappointed in me, but I turned in my resignation letter, and today was my last day. I have enough in my savings to last until I find another job, but after that jerkwad tried to tell me I couldn’t have the afternoon off for Claira’s recital, I was done. It was the final straw.” I blow out the rest of the air I have saved up out. It’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember; it used to drive my mother batty until my father told her it’s the exact same thing she does when she gets worked up.

  “Well, we support you no matter what. I can’t say that I blame you. The past two years haven’t been fair to you or Clairabella,” my mom says. Okay, this is not going as I expected.

  “He’s lucky I don’t go up to that fancy pansy office of his and shove my boot up his ass. I know you don’t want to hear it, you’re a lot like your mother and me, but our home is open if things get tight.” I go to say something, but he raises his hand, and I stop. “Or, you know, we can give you a loan. Not saying you’ll need it because we didn’t raise you not to stand on your own two feet, just know we love you and we’re here for you.” With that, he stands, walks over, and wraps his arms around me. As much as I don’t want to break down in front of my parents, it’s much-needed; while my dad holds me, I cry on his shoulder until I’m all cried out.