Page 75 of Mark & Don't Tell

The breakup wasn’t easy on him. He has every right to be mad at me and the guys.

But maybe we can finally talk about it and work through some of that frustration. I miss the goofy kid who used to want to play Crash Bandicoot with me. I miss the little boy who wanted me to read to him every night before bed.

So, despite the vicious things my son has said to me in the past, I remain cautiously hopeful.

It kills me to put off Daria for another day, but our date is on Friday, and I’ll make it more than clear she’s also a priority.

“Lincoln?” Weston, the receptionist, asks through the comm line that connects to my office.

I press the button on my desk phone. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Should I send your son in? The food just arrived as well.”

“That’ll be great, Weston. Thank you.” Smoothing my shirt, I step inside the bathroom attached to my office and make sure my hair isn’t a mess.

“Checking yourself out?” Ryan asks with a chuckle.

“Have to make sure I look sharp,” I tell him, grinning as he holds up the bags of food. “Where do you want to eat? Here or in the private lunchroom?”

“Oh, for sure, the private room.” He smirks and, for a moment, I can see the little boy in his face.

I’m glad he decided we should talk. Not knowing what’s going on in his life has been so hard. “Follow me.”

The executive lunchroom is in the opposite direction of where Daria sits, which is probably a good thing. If I walked by her, I’d definitely have to stop and say hello, and then I’d have to find a way to explain to my son that a woman his age is our fated mate. Oh, and she hasn’t agreed to be our mate; we’re still courting her.

Ryan is a grown man, but even I know how awkward it might be to introduce him to someone who isn’t sure they really want to be in my pack.

“Did you guys get new diffusers? It smells different.”

I shoot him a confused look and hold open the door to the executive room. “I guess someone could’ve brought in something new.” Shrugging, I gesture toward the round table, waiting for him to set down the bags before I help him unpack the food. “It’s been a while since you came by,” I say casually, like it was no big deal that he came in again and again to tell me what an embarrassment I am for owning this business.

“Yeah,” he says as he takes his seat. “I guess you’re right.” Smoothing his short brown hair, he eyes my man bun.

Another thing he openly disdains. I brace myself for some comment about being a dumb hippie, but he quickly averts his gaze. The hot subs I ordered came with homemade chips. I grab my Philly cheesesteak and unwrap it.

“What have you been up to for the past...” I trail off. How long has it been since I last saw him? More than a year ago? “Well, what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been working here and there.” He takes a bite of his French dip.

“Oh? Is the pack still working with the investment team?”

He nods. “Yup. That’s all good. We’re doing cool things. How’s everything?” Sweeping his hand around our general space, he takes another bite.

“Good. We’re working on expanding into new markets and shifting from regional sales to national. It’s slow progress because we don’t want to expand too fast and spend all our money.”

Our business has been healthy for several years, but expanding to new markets is risky. Most new businesses take two years to establish themselves, so the national plan for Good Vibes is on a ten-year timeline to ensure each new site is viable. We don’t want to move too quickly and kill the company.

“And people like the stuff you offer?”

The stuff. I had hoped we wouldn’t get into this conversation. He’s never understood the value of sex toys or the experiences they can bring, and I’m not going to try and explain it to him again.

“We’ve done well enough to start expanding.” Time to shift to safe waters. “How’s the pack? Have you all been looking for a mate or...?”

Pausing with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, he narrows his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Dad. We’re trying to have a nice lunch.”

I rear back, like he slapped me. Our own mate is at the front of my mind, and I want him to have the same thing someday. “Sorry,” I say softly, holding up my hands. “I was only making conversation.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need you prying into my love life.”

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