Page 25 of Snap

I wrinkled my nose. "Ewww." I did not want to think about my father having sex, much less getting anyone pregnant.

He reached out for my hand. "This is to do with you being my child. Son or daughter, I want someone to take over the team when my time is done."

I sat up straighter. "You’re not dying are you?" He wasn’t allowed to die. It was against the rules… Or something like that.

"That depends," he said, "will you do as I ask then?" Nothing was wrong with him, he was just being a facetious bastard.

"Right now I'm trying to think of a reason why I shouldn't kick your ass," I growled. "You scared me."

"At least I know you care." He leaned over and patted my arm.

"Of course I care," I said. "Even when you're being a bastard, I still love you."

"And even when you're being a spoiled brat, I still love you." He gave me a soft smile.

"When is what’s-her-name moving in?" I asked.

He evaded my gaze.

"What?" I watched his expression for a moment. "Did you two break up already?" I tried not to look too hopeful, but failed miserably. If he wanted to be with someone, I wished he'd choose someone his own age.

"Not exactly, no. She… She doesn't want to move in here."

"And?" When he didn't answer, I realised what was going on. "She's the one who wants to move to Queensland, isn't she? What did you do, make it a condition of you being together?"

He bristled visibly. "I want to do this too. It'll be a fresh start for both of us. You can come and visit."

"Well, I'm sure as shit not going to live with you both," I said darkly. "Will you be selling this place?"

"I don't know," he admitted."It's a big place. You can move back in and stay here on your own but it's probably too big to?—"

"Yes it is," I snapped. "Don't worry about me. I like where I live." For now. Maybe, someday, I could move in with Ollie.

Wait, what? I couldn't believe I even thought that. I barely knew the guy. He probably had a tiny little cozy apartment where we'd be falling over each other.

It sounded wonderful.

"Rubie—" Dad let out a frustrated breath. "I can't plan my life around you all the time. You're an adult."

"I couldn't agree more," I said. "Maybe I should get a job doing?—"

He slammed his fist on the table so hard it made me jump.

"Enough," he growled. "I haven't worked hard all these years just to have you turn your back on it."

"You made your money in real estate," I pointed out. "Why not give me a job in that?"

I can only describe the sound he made as choked out snort.

"You want to start selling houses to people? Or buying and renovating houses? You'd give up on the first day, when you chipped a nail."

"I would not," I protested. He was partly right though. I wasn’t a contractor or interior designer. Then again, neither was he. He paid people to do that. He chose the buildings and delegated everything to project managers. How hard could it be to learn to do that?

I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the table. "I'll tell you what, let's make a bet."

He eyed me with undisguised skepticism.

Yeah, okay I'd look at me the same way too. I was clearly up to something.

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