Page 217 of Whistle

“What things?” he asked.

“Maybe we could talk about that later,” I said, glancing across the natatorium at the crowd.

“If you want me to agree to this, you’ll tell me right now,” he said, completely stubborn.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, automatically responding to his tone.

He made an agreeable sound, and I felt my cheeks heat. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I whispered.

He laughed under his breath. “I know, baby.” Then, “Tell me.”

“I think I want to study design. Maybe costume design at the theater arts department. Or maybe fashion merchandising.” Much, much quieter, I added, “It’s hard to find good lingerie for men.”

He pursed his lips.

“I used to be pretty good at sketching,” I explained. “I could be good again.”

“Of course you can,” he said, not an ounce of doubt in his eyes.

“You think?”

“I’ll buy you a drawing table with the rest of the furniture we’re getting.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why are we buying furniture?”

“Because my house is empty, and I want you to have a home.”

“As long as you’re there, it will be.”

His eyebrow arched. “You trying to charm me into getting your way?”

“Is it working?” I was hopeful.

“No.”

I sighed. “It’s what’s best for both of us. You can have me and your job. I can stay in school and have you. Neither one of us will have to give up anything.”

“The reparation…” He hedged.

Rush appeared, phone in hand. “Sabatino says he can make it work.”

I smiled wide and turned to Em. “My lawyer says I don’t have to swim.”

“Whose side are you on?” Emmett groused at Rush.

“Everyone’s,” Rush replied. “And this is what’s best for everyone.”

Emmett sighed.

Rush grunted and spoke into the phone. “It’s a go.”

Optimism had me rising on tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“This is hardly the place,” Emmett grumped.

“But technically, you’re still fired, so we aren’t breaking the rules.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Such a brat.”

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