Because I Love You

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jessi

“I fed him this morning when he got up and already had to change him, so he should be good there. I’ve got his clothes in the dryer, but I haven’t taken them out and folded them yet.”

“I can do that, Miss Park. It’s not a problem.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jessi?” I asked.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to give me the morning rundown?” my nanny asked.

“It makes me feel better, okay? Indulge me for a second. Okay, so I bought an overripe banana to smash up for his lunch, but I want to try an avocado with him as well. I’m trying to introduce as many mushy foods as I can so hopefully he’ll have a broader palette than I do.”

“Not much of a vegetable eater?” she asked.

“Have you seen these curves? There are two things that make them. The gym and calories. Now, he woke up with a bit of crust around his nose, so keep an eye on that. I’ve got his pediatrician’s numbers taped to the fridge. They do walk-ins up until eleven, but if anything happens to him after that there’s an urgent care up the road. I emailed you a—”

“Digital copy of his prescription card. You know I’ve been working with you for three months now, right?”

“And I’ll never stop worrying,” I said with a grin. “If you need anything, call me. And let me know how he does with the avocado.”

I kissed my bouncing baby boy goodbye before I grabbed my things. Today was a very important day and I was both nervous and excited. My career as a plus sized model had taken off, and with the help of my personal trainer at the gym I had a tight little waist that could flatter any dress. One of the biggest fashion designers on the East Coast was flying in to do a show in Los Angeles, and I was picked to be one of the very few plus-size models on the runway in his clothes. I was ecstatic. This show could mean the difference between me being a catalogue model for the rest of my life and me creating my own empire. Like Tyra Banks or Ashley Graham.

My first big runway show, and I was about to be late.

I raced through the streets of L.A. to get to the venue on time. The fashion designer wanted to assign outfits, choose hairstyles, and explore different makeup settings for the way he wanted to set up the show. Personally, he seemed like an uptight asshole to me, but he was giving me a chance so I was going to jump if he asked. Plus, we were all going to be meeting the choreographer for the first time. Which meant we’d also get to walk the runway today.

L.A. was nice, but my dream was New York. The best of the best found their way out there, and I thought it would be a great place to raise my son. I could get away from this Los Angeles heat that did nothing for my thighs and bask in the beautiful snow that I’d never actually seen in person. I could go there, start fresh, and raise my son to be the man I knew he could be.

Away from everyone who hounded me about his damn father.

This fashion show was the tell-all. Not only for this particular designer, but for myself as well. I’d be in front of hundreds of cameras with my picture posted everywhere. **. f******k. Twitter. Magazine spreads. If I could name it, my face would probably show up in it. If I played my cards right, I could plant my feet on that momentum and ride it all the way into Times Square. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw it. My picture on billboards and my agent turning down jobs because I was already booked solid. My cute three-bedroom apartment overlooking the beauty of the New York skyline. My son running up the steps into the best private school the city had to offer.

Walks in the parks and ice skating during Christmas. I saw hot chocolate by the fireplace as my son and I watched the snow fall over the city. I saw horse-drawn carriage rides as I taught him how to treat a woman on a first date, and I saw us getting him ready for his New York prom.

I even saw my son cheering me on as I walked the New York runways of Fashion Week.

All I had to do was get out of California first.

I pulled into the agency where we were all supposed to meet. A few of the other models had shown up, but so far I was the only one with any curves bigger than a size four. Was I the only plus-sized model chosen for this runway shoot? If I was, that would certainly play in my favor. We all sat in a room with bottles of water and snacks that taunted us, and I debated on whether or not to eat something. After all, I was a plus-sized model. It was obvious that I ate.

“Attention, everyone. Settle your conversations. Everything’s about to start, especially since our choreographer has chosen to grace us with his presence.”

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was crazy and I’m pretty sure I saw a body in a bag in the middle of the town.”

My blood ran cold in my veins as my head whipped over to the voice. There was no way in hell it was him. After everything he’d put me through, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel. My eyes connected with his and I could see the shock roll behind his eyes. I clenched my jaw as any interest in food fell quickly from my mind.

Christopher.

Christopher Miles was our f*****g choreographer.

“Girls, this is Christopher Miles, and he’ll be working with us for the majority of the morning. He knows how our designer wants everything laid out, which means he’ll also be sticking around to help choose colors for makeup as well as hairstyles.”

Great.

Fucking great.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” Chris said.

His eyes landed onto mine again and I felt my blood boil.

“I don’t want to waste anymore of our time, so if you could all meet me in the room, we’ll start going over the choreography.”

“We aren’t going to be walking the runway?” a girl asked.

“The show isn’t for a few more days. The runway won’t be set up until the night before,” Chris said.

“Because I was hoping I’d be able to get a feel for how the runway feels underneath my feet.”

“Then I suggest you take a walk on a pier in heels. The sensation is the same,” Chris said.

Rising from my chair, I quickly made my way to the room next door. I didn’t want to speak to him if I could help it. I stood in the back and watched his movements through the mirror. If I couldn't see what he was doing, I watched the girl in front of me who seemed to be nailing everything he threw at us. The choreography was intricate, but it felt good with my broader hips. Some of the smaller girls were having trouble with the turns, since some of them took leverage to complete.

I had no issues with leverage. But they did.

A few times, Chris caught my stare in the mirror. I hated it when that happened, because it gave me a glimpse of my son. Looking into his eyes forced me to see exactly how much Caleb looked like his father. Light brown hair. Bright blue eyes. A broad smile and a full lower lip. He was the spitting image of his father, and every time Chris turned around and looked at the crowd, his attention always fell on me.

And the girls were beginning to notice.

“All right, ladies. I’ve been informed the makeup artist is here. We’re going to take a break and get some color palettes assigned, then the hairstylist will be in to try a few different things. We’ll run the choreography one last time before we all dismiss, and hopefully we can all get out of here by six.”

Six.

Shit. I’d told my nanny I’d be home by four.

The girls went giggling out of the room as I reached down for my water bottle. I looked up and saw Chris lingering around and knew this wouldn't end well. If he came up to me and talked, I wasn’t certain I wouldn’t punch him in the nose.

The exact same nose my son had on his face.

“Jessi.”

“Christopher.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here today,” he said.

“Because you didn’t think I’d be successful?”

“Because I didn’t think you were a model,” he said.

“A lot changes in two years.”

“It hasn’t been two years.”

“Are you really in a position to argue with me about how long it’s been?” I asked.

“Look, I don’t want to fight.”

“Then you shouldn't have said my name,” I said.

I went to brush past him, but he reached down and grabbed my wrist.

“Jes, please.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” I said, as I shook my head. “You don’t get to use that name anymore.”

“Come with me to dinner tonight.”

“I see you haven’t lost your demanding streak.”

“If I recall correctly, that was something you enjoyed,” he said.

“Things can change,” I said, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

“It would give us a chance to talk. To see how we’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been fine. I don’t care to know how you’ve been,” I said.

“Then you won’t lose anything by coming to dinner.”

“Only my dignity.”

“What do you want from me, Jes?”

“Either an explanation or silence.”

“Then come to dinner and let me give you one,” he said.

“Or you could simply give me one now,” I said.

“We don’t have time. You have to get in a chair for makeup. By now, the good ones have probably already been taken.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked.

We stood there, toe-to-toe, and my wrist was still warm from the contact of his skin. I cursed my body holding onto him like that. I cursed the fact that I still enjoyed his touch. I bit down on the inside of my cheek as he stared me down, his dominance pouring forth.

Then, an idea hit me.

He wasn’t going to back down and neither was I. But that didn’t mean I had to go to dinner. I was staring into the eyes of the man that broke my heart. That promised he would hang the moon in my room and pluck the stars from the sky. I was gazing into the eyes of the man that forced me into the life I now led. I wasn’t born with strength. It was thrust upon me the day he walked out.

The day he left me with nothing but shattered promises at my feet.

But he wasn’t going to get to me again. If dinner was what he wanted, then I would play his little game. He wasn’t going to win this time, however. He left shattered promises at my feet, so I would leave a shattered heart at his.

I would make sure he understood the pain he caused me. If anything, so I could finally move on with the only man who mattered.

My son.

“Okay,” I said.

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Chris said, with a grin. “How does tonight sound? Seven o’clock? After we wrap up all this s**t?”

I made a mental note to call my nanny as a smile spread across my face.

“Sounds perfect,” I said.