Page 3 of Fake Daddy

I’m exhausted after she leaves. Drained emotionally, and all I want to do is go home, grab a bottle of wine, and binge-watch the Jurassic Park movies for a day or two. Unfortunately, I have another client.

“Mrs. Green, why don’t you follow me on back?”

The woman is in her seventies and loves to gossip about the other residents in her retirement home. She comes twice a year for perms and once a month for a good wash and styling. She’s one of my oldest clients and sometimes reminds me of my Nana.

CHAPTER 2

Cort

“Hey, man, you got the boys this week?”

I glance up from the contract I’m about to sign to see my younger brother, Eric, casually leaning against the door frame.

“I pick them up on Friday before dinner.” Eyeing him skeptically, I’m aware that he knows this. It’s been this way since their mom, Mary, and I divorced when they were too young to remember us together. “Why?”

“I’ve got tickets to the Bears game on Sunday. Thought you guys might want to come with.”

I perk up at that. The Sherwood Park Bears are a new professional hockey team in town, and we haven’t been able to land tickets to a game yet.

“I’m sure they’d love to,” I respond.

It’s the Bears' first year in the league, and they’re in the finals for the cup. So far, they’re shaping up to be a great team.

“Great. Dinner first?”

I accept before waving Eric away. I have four contracts to read through, one of which I know I’ll dislike the company’s terms because they always try to fuck with me.

They want cheaper supplies, unrealistic completion dates, and half the labour costs. They’re unrealistic and, frankly, egotistical, but that’s what you get from a couple of wealthy men who think they invented money and want what they want when they want it.

I already feel the headache brewing as I sign the second contract.

My family has been in the business for over fifty years. My grandfather started Baker & Sons Construction. Then, my dad and two uncles inherited it, and ten years ago, my brother and I took the reins. My uncles both had daughters who showed no interest, and neither did their husbands, so it came down to Eric and me.

During our time as owners, we’ve expanded throughout Alberta and into British Columbia and Saskatchewan. Eric does most of the travelling because he doesn’t have kids. Once in a while, I’ll go along with him on the shorter trips or if he’s unable to go. Truthfully, though, I enjoy being home where the boys can easily reach me.

Evan and Tyler are my life, have been since they were born. And once upon a time, they had a stepsister, Darling, when I was married to her mom for barely a year. The girl was shy around me, but she took to having brothers like she’d grown up with them. That was the most challenging part about ending things with Kelly. Leaving Darling behind when she seemed so desperate for love and companionship. However, my boys were my priority, and I couldn’t do anything for the girl.

Her father, Collin, and I had kept in touch for a few years–I’m not a complete monster– but around the time she turned fourteen, we no longer talked. I think about her occasionally. Kelly had been…a lot when we were together, but Collin never gave an indication that anything was wrong in the years after I’d left, so I just imagined them having a nice life together.

Shaking the past from my head, I get back to work, both loving and hating my job today. I’d rather be on a worksite hauling lumber, laying foundation, or talking with clients. Paperwork is the bane of my existence.

“Mom! Dad’s here,” my fifteen-year-old, Evan, yells into the house.

I shake my head at him, and he grins, knowing how much I hate the yelling.

“Hold your horses, child!” she calls back from upstairs. They get it from her.

“Where’s your brother?” I ask just as Tyler comes sauntering from the kitchen with a sandwich half hanging out of his mouth. “You could have eaten that at the table,” I scold, and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s his fifth one,” Evan snorts out.

I raise a brow in question, and Ty shrugs. “I had a four-hour practice today.” Flexing his arms, he rolls up the sleeves of his t-shirt to show off his muscles.

“You guys ready or what?” I glance between them, and they look at each other. Now I know something is going on. “What’s up, guys?” They aren’t the kind to keep secrets.

“Go get your stuff, boys. Let me talk to your father,” Mary cuts in as she makes her way downstairs.

“New hair,” I comment, and she preens.

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