Page 49 of The Surrogate Nanny
“No, I won’t be that long,” he commented, carrying Nori to the kitchen. I smirked when my child tried to death roll out of his grasp as she reached for me. “She’s grown quite fond of you in a short time.”
“I know,” I replied, reaching for her. “I think it’s finally sinking in that I’m her father. Now, if I can get her to say daddy, then all will be right in the world. But what brings you to our neck of the woods?” I asked, strapping Nori into her highchair.
“I wanted to discuss your case against your employer and the transportation company. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this matter somewhere private, like your office?”
“I can step out,” Simone offered.
“No. This is your home. You don’t have to leave. Take a seat,” I said, tilting my chin to one of the stools at the kitchen island. I turned to wash my hands in the sink. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Simone.”
“Sure,” Jonathan responded in a clipped tone oozing with disapproval. I didn’t have time to worry about his sudden change in tone; my daughter loudly shrieked and slammed her hands against her highchair table. I opened the refrigerator and located a plastic container of mango puree that Simone had prepared for her, sat it on the tray, and gave her a spoon.
“Don’t forget the bib, please. I want to go shopping for our trip after breakfast, and I don’t feel like bathing and redressing her,” Simone reminded me gently.
“Trip? Where are you going?” Jonathan asked a hint of betrayal in his tone.
“Oh, um, Anthony surprised us with a vacation for my birthday. We’re going to Florida.”
“That sounds like a fun...family vacation,” he responded.
“I’m excited, but I’m a little nervous as well. I’ve never been on a plane before,” Simone confessed.
“You’ll be fine,” I reassured her, pulling the bread out of the bread box. “What’s going on, Jonathan?”
“I’m still working your employer. The negotiations have reached a standstill. They don’t want to pay what you’re asking.”
“I’m not surprised, but they owe me. I was supposed to be on leave when they strong-armed me to go on that trip. I have the texts and emails to prove that it was less of a suggestion and more of a threat. I’m not asking for a lot. I think asking for five years’ salary, including what I would’ve made in bonuses and health benefits coverage for my family is more than reasonable.”
Jonathan shook his head. “They don’t want to shell out upwards of ten million dollars.”
My eyes flicked to Simone when she choked on her water. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe I should leave,” she said, starting to rise. I pointed back at her chair, and she sat.
“Go back to those bastards and tell them that I want my money, one way or another. Tell them to pay up. They tried to fucking bury this. You’re telling me that no one returned the impound lot’s call abouttheircompany vehicle?”
“I know. Your legal department was giving me the run around when you disappeared. They don’t want to be held liable for this.”
“No shit. What’s the news with the transportation company?”
He smiled for the first time since his arrival. “I have excellent news. As you know, the driver who t-boned you was found liable for the accident for running a red light. They also found that he was under the influence.”
“I know that already. Tell me something I don’t know,” I urged as I whisked the French toast batter.
“Some employees, who wish to remain anonymous, testified that he was caught with drained beer cans in his truck and smelled of alcohol occasionally. He was reported but wasn’t let go because he’d been with the company forever and because of the Good Ol’ Boy System. He was related to one of the higher-ups and the company had a shortage of drivers. The company was willing to take the risk and in doing so, put you in a coma, leaving you with permanent physical injuries, facial disfigurement, and emotional distress from missing the birth of your child and her first year. They’re offering to settle.”
“Facial disfigurement…really?” I drawled.
“That would be the only thing you picked up,” Jonathan sighed, sliding an envelope in my direction. I snatched it up, eager to see the zeros. I let out a long whistle.
That’s a lot of fucking zeroes!
“One hundred fifty million dollars.”
“Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick,” Simone whispered as she clutched her stomach.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked with a smirk.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, it is, but don’t be fooled. The ambulance chaser here will take a nice hefty chunk out of it. Won’t you, Jonathan?”