Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I hate that the thought of her having a normal sex life sends jealousy streaking through my blood.
It was six years ago, you deranged baboon.
Six. Years.
You have no right to her.
Yeah, but my dick doesn’t know how to tell time, and neither does that little part of my monkey brain that thinks the only man she ought to have in bed is me.
She makes a raspy breath again.
The odds of this going well just plummeted to zero.
I’m half tempted to disconnect and text her instead when I hear her say, “Arlo, if you don’t knock it off and get your pj’s on in sixty seconds, I’ll put them on for you. Don’t be a baby.”
I am the world’s biggest idiot.
Of course, she’s mothering the hellspawn.
I throw together a quick, simple martini from the bar, pouring vermouth while I wait.
When she comes back, she’s just as breathy and apologetic as I’ve come to expect.
“Sorry about that. I usually have him in bed by now, but I got home late.”
“It’s after nine,” I say, failing to hide the surprise in my voice.
“There was a lot to do at the office. All of those expenses and receipts you wanted me to get to accounting don’t organize themselves.”
My lip curls, knowing it could’ve waited for a few days.
So maybe I’m not the only one with a workaholic problem.
“I’m sorry for calling you this late, but a new learning opportunity came up and I’d like to bring you along.”
“Learning opportunity?” she asks warily.
“Mentoring. I’m delivering some practical advice to an old family friend, and I thought you might want to sit in on the meeting to observe. It’s a good chance to see how I work one-on-one with clients.”
“Tomorrow?” She hesitates and I hear her whisper, “I’ll say good night in a second, okay, big guy? Read your picture book.” Then her voice gets stronger again. “Patton, I don’t know if I can do Saturday. I promised Arlo we’d go sledding by the river while we still have enough snow from that last storm. You know it doesn’t always last around here.”
“It won’t take all day. I can give you a ride, before and after. Or, if you prefer, the sitter could take him sledding while you’re at the meeting.”
“No. You don’t owe me any special favors,” she says sharply. “I know we have a history, but I’m over it. And I’m even more over obsessing about it…”
Like I’m not? Is that what she’s implying?
“So am I,” I bite off. Goddamn. “I don’t ask any of my employees to work unnecessary weekends on short notice without making accommodations for them.”
There’s a silence.
I sip my martini, wishing I’d just poured straight vodka. A cocktail feels too lightweight for dealing with this impossible woman.
“Okay, fine,” she says. “If there’s something for Arlo to do during the meeting, I guess it could work. If you’re willing, it would be great if you could pick us up and drop us off by the river later…”
If Mom has anything to do with it, there’ll be plenty for him to do.
“I promise you he’ll be entertained,” I say. “My mom loves kids.”
“Your mom?”
“The meeting’s at her house. Like I said, a close friend of the family. That’s what makes the stakes higher, and I want you to sit in and watch how I handle them. So, I’ll pick you up around eleven. Hopefully that’s a reasonable time?”
“Sure. Eleven’s great.”
Without giving her a chance to say anything more, I hang up.
Rude, maybe, but the less chance we have at leaping into another shitfight, the better.
I know we have a history, but I’m over it. And I’m even more over obsessing about it…
Her words float back to me, just like the way I lied to cut her off.
There’s no reason this shouldn’t be true. It was six years ago and there’s no reason to cling to it.
But if it was all so easily said and done, this wouldn’t be so difficult.
I wouldn’t be jumping to conclusions about her sex life or fuming with unwarranted jealousy when she tells me she’s over what happened.
As I settle in for a long night alone, the ugly truth stains my world, brighter than the yellow angelfish swarming by.
I’m still not over Lady Bug. Not by far.
And I’m deathly afraid I don’t fucking know how to be.
I show up at her modest apartment at eleven on the dot to find Salem and Arlo waiting for me, bundled up in thick winter coats with hats and gloves.
The boy holds his large plastic sled by a rope. I grab it and stow it in the trunk while she gets his car seat set up in the back before we set off.
Surprisingly, they’re both pretty quiet.
Arlo keeps himself busy, looking at all the buttons on my dashboard from his place in the back. Besides a restrained smile and a few murmured words, Salem hasn’t said boo.