Page 64 of Dad Next Door

“What did Asshole want?”

“To call me a bad parent because my boy toy”—he made air quotes—“lives next door. He used all the same language he did at the wedding when he made Jace come say hi to us.”

“He has a problem with you dating your neighbor eighteen months after your divorce, but it’s totally fine that he moved his side dude into his place only weeks after he filed for divorce?”

“Essentially.” He sipped his soda. “He hates that he can’t control me anymore and has no say over my life. It’s like clockwork. Every few months, he gets his knickers in a knot over something and writes one of these letters on his fancy lawyer letterhead to scold me and try and make me feel guilty for having a life outside of being a dad.”

“Is that legal? It sounds like bullying.”

“It’s a gray area. So not legal, but not illegal. And yeah, it’s basically bullying.” He toyed with a crease in his slacks. “We made an impression at the wedding.”

“How so?”

“I’ve gotten dozens of invites to things in the last two days. I can count on one hand the number of invites I’ve gotten to anything in the last six months. It’s three, FYI, and they were all parties.”

I waited as he kept fiddling with his pants. That was another of Tristan’s tells that he was upset.

“All the invites had your name on them too. A part of me is like fuck yeah, because now I’m the one who’s interesting and worth paying attention to, but at the same time, I just want to tell everyone to fuck off because they’re so transparent it’s insulting. They don’t want to hang out with me, they want to get dirt on us. They’re treating you like a shiny new toy, and I don’t like it.”

“So tell them to fuck off.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe don’t use those exact words, but tell them thanks for the invites, but you’re busy. If they can’t show up for you when you need them, they don’t deserve your time or friendship when it’s suddenly convenient for them.”

“Being an adult suuuuucks.” He slumped in his chair. “I miss the days when being friends with someone meant you were past all the bullshit and head games. Now it’s all subterfuge and decoding motivations. Everyone has an ulterior motive, and no one seems to care about anyone but themselves. It’s exhausting.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Ugh. Ignore me. I’m just having a pity party.”

“Sounds like you had a rough day.” I pressed my ankle against his leg.

“Yeah.” He dragged one hand through his perpetually messy hair. “It doesn’t help that one of the other vets quit today. Just walked out and gave everyone the middle finger.”

“Like, literally gave everyone the finger?”

A small smile tilted his lips. “Yup. You know the scene in that Mr. Bean movie where he’s waving his middle fingers around at everyone because he thought that was a greeting or something innocuous?”

“Never saw the film, but I’ve seen clips of that scene.” I laughed. “Was that what they did?”

He snickered. “Yeah. I hate to laugh because his reasons for quitting are legitimate, but his big storm-out was the most extra thing I’ve ever seen.” His smile fell. “It’s also hard not to be pissed at him because now the rest of us have to pick up the slack and work overtime until they can get a replacement.”

“Overtime? You already work a ton of overtime.”

“And now I’ll have to do more.” He sighed and tapped the tab on his soda. “I keep hoping things will get better, but I think it’s time I start looking for another job. I like the staff and my patients, but I really dislike how management runs things. They’re overbooking appointments, which cuts down the time we can spend with our patients, and the pressure to upsell products or split visits up to maximize profits isn’t why I got into animal medicine. They don’t even want us to call them our patients anymore and instead refer to them as our clients.”

“My friend is a nurse, and he said that referring to patients as clients is standard now.”

“I was hoping we’d get a bit of a break before that trickled down to vet med. I get that clinics are a business, but we’re medical professionals, and our priority should be treating our patients, not trying to pad the wallets of the people who sign our checks.” He took a long drink of his soda. “But yeah. Today has been a day.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You already did by listening.”

Wanting to see one of his real smiles, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened one of my music apps. “I owe you a performance.”

“A performance?” He arched one eyebrow, his mouth curling up in a smile.

“Yup.” I scrolled through one of my playlists and cued up the song I was looking for. “I can’t sing away your work problems, but I have the perfect song for your ex issues.”

“You do?”

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