Page 8 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

I can't help but chuckle at his persistence, appreciating his tact in not pushing too hard. "Let's just say I'm keeping my options open. It's nothing for you to worry about."

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused, but nods in understanding. "All right, I won't pry. But I'm here if you want to tell me about it. Or, you know, need any advice," he says, the last part dripping with a teasing sarcasm that only a son can pull off.

"Thanks, Caleb. I'll keep that in mind," I reply, the warmth in my voice reflecting my appreciation for his offer, no matter how sarcastically it was stated. "Just make sure you have a good time this weekend. And call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Will do, Dad. And don't worry about me. Focus on having a fun night yourself," he says, his tone sincere. There's an understanding between us, a mutual respect that's always underpinned our relationship. Caleb knows when to step back, just as I know when to offer him the space he needs to grow and make his own decisions.

I snatch up my Audi R8 keys, the sleek machine a perfect match for my love of things that are cool without trying too hard. I start the car, the engine purring to life, a comforting backdrop to the anticipation bubbling inside me.

I pull up Allie’s address on my phone and plug it into the GPS. My eyebrows knit together when I see it’s in Brownsville. It’s a far cry from the leafy streets of my own neighborhood of Park Slope. I can't help but feel a twinge of worry—she lives in a rough part of Brooklyn.

As I drive, I tell myself she’s been doing fine without me worrying over her. But man, it's hard not to feel protective.

Pulling up to her building does nothing to ease that itch. It's clearly seen better days. My car sticks out like a sore thumb, and I can't shake off a sense of unease about Allie calling this place home.

As I park the Audi, I try to shove aside my worrisome thoughts. Allie’s made it this far on her own, but damn if I don't want to show her a different side of life.

Stepping out, I’m hit with an unexpected resolve. This isn’t just a date anymore—it’s a chance to really get to know each other, to see beyond the surface. I become acutely aware that I want this night to turn into something more. Making my way to her door, I feel like I'm about to cross into a new chapter of my life.

I approach Allie’s building, and the surroundings do little to lift my spirits. It's the kind of place where the trash seems to have its own ecosystem. The buildings are graffitied, and the windows grimy.

To my relief, her building’s front door is locked. I buzz, announcing myself, and the door clicks open, granting me entry into a hallway that's seen better days. The carpet's threadbare, and the lights flicker. I navigate the narrow corridor, the numbers on the doors ticking down until I finally reach hers.

Knocking on the door, I try to brace myself, but nothing can prepare me for the moment she opens it. "Wow," slips out before I can stop it.

"We said casual, right?" she laughs, stepping back to let me in. Her version of casual is a knockout punch—denim jeans that fit just right and a simple white blouse that catches the light, making her look ethereal. Her makeup is minimal, and that smile of hers is like being handed a ticket to the best day ever.

"Uh, right," I manage to say, my usual charm taking a temporary leave. I step inside, glancing around the space. She catches my wandering gaze, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't tell me you're already regretting your winning bid?"

"On the contrary," I say, finding my footing again. "I'm starting to think I got the better end of the deal. And just for the record, I’m hoping our date lasts a bit longer than an hour in the air."

Her laughter fills the small space, setting me at ease. "Well, let's see how you feel after spending that hour with me, shall we?"

As she closes the door, the thought crosses my mind that this date, this moment, feels like the beginning of something unforgettable.

Chapter 5

Allie

Patrick looks every bit the model from a GQ photoshoot. From his perfectly tailored jeans that hug his frame in all the right places to that effortlessly styled hair, he's a vision from a magazine cover. His presence feels almost surreal against the backdrop of my modest apartment, like a misplaced piece from a glamorous jigsaw puzzle.

"Wow, did you get lost on your way to a photo shoot?" I tease.

Patrick chuckles, and the sound fills the room with a subtle warmth. "Ha! No, this is exactly where I want to be. Though I have to admit, I was half expecting a red carpet and a runway."

I can't help but laugh, the tension easing with our witty banter. "Sorry to disappoint, but the only red carpet you'll find here is probably from spilled wine from last week's dinner mishap."

He grins, and there's a genuine delight in his eyes that makes my heart do a little flip. "Then I’ll consider myself duly warned."

I catch him taking in the less-than-stellar surroundings with a careful eye. There's no hint of disdain, more like concern that flickers across his face. It's endearing, really, seeing him try to mask it with a smile.

"Welcome to the glamorous side of Brooklyn," I say, a bit self-consciously.

Patrick's gaze softens. "As long as I'm with you, I'm sure it's the best tour I'll ever get."

With that, we head out. Stepping out onto the street, we make our way to his car—a sleek luxury ride that looks like it's been teleported from a futuristic utopia compared to the rest of the surroundings. He opens the door for me with a flourish that's both charming and slightly amusing, given our surroundings.

I notice Patrick's vigilant eyes scanning the area as we settle in. It's clear he's out of his element, but there's a protective vibe about him that I find unexpectedly reassuring.

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