Page 99 of Delicate Storm

“I had to call her.” Mom’s nose scrunches before she opens her mouth to speak. “Don’t say it. I know. I shouldn’t have let her get away with that, but what was I going to do, break his heart?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“You’re a great dad, Easton. I’m proud of you.”

Her smile widens while I grimace. “I’m really not, but thank you.”

Isaac comes running back into the room, talking animatedly about Halloween, cutting off whatever Mom was going to say in response to my proclamation. But I wouldn’t have listened regardless. Yes, I do all that I can, but I don’t see him enough. And that’s what’s important.

Why can’t life be simpler? Why can’t he have a mom that wants to spend time with him so we can balance the time between us and ensure he’s never without?

My mom is amazing. But it’s taking a toll on her. And I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to cope.

After a quick goodbye, Mom heads home, and I get Isaac off to sleep before eating dinner and crashing on the couch. I don’t sleep well as my mind runs wild processing everything I’ve got going on, and by Tuesday afternoon I’m a little on edge and desperate to relieve some tension.

And I don’t think the gym will do.

Thoughts of Paige run rampant, and I find myself wanting to call her.

Only we never exchanged goddamn numbers.

I grapple with my conscience trying to decide between right and wrong when it comes to Paige, but there’s one argument that reigns supreme.I’m a fucking adult and I don’t play games.

I know what I want. I know my limits and I know how to protect my family. I would never let things with Paige affect that.

So…it’s time to make it happen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Paige

I’m still reeling after signing on as one of the models for a huge runway event when my phone rings the next day. I pause my walk and smile when Hayley’s name pops up.

She kept the party going beyond the time I thought the charity event would be over on Saturday night, and I’ll forever be in her debt. People kept donating to the website we’d set up long into the early hours of the morning, and I’m certain that’s because they were still drinking and having fun. I know a little part of me should feel guilty that they donated under the influence of alcohol, but I don’t. They’re adults; they can make their own decisions.

But I am grateful that Hayley was there.

“Hayley, my angel. I’m so glad you called.”

“Hi Babe. I wanted to call Sunday but I wasn’t feeling that great. And yesterday I was at the studio for a meeting.”

“Ahh, thestudio. I’ve had a lot of famous friends but none that have starred as my favorite character before.”

“Ugh. Stop with the pressure.”

“You love it.”

“I do. It keeps me honest.” There’s a smile in her voice and I’m about to laugh when she continues. “But”—she trails off for dramatic effect—“I didn’t call to talk aboutme. I called to talk aboutyou. Who was that guy following you around all night? He was dreamy.”

“Which guy?”

“Sorry, of course,” she says exaggeratedly, “there weresomany.” Sarcasm oozes through the phone and I burst out laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just can’t remember anyone.”

“I thought you might say that considering you never once acknowledged him. And he was gorgeous.”

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