Page 5 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“How about this,” Foster says, “you let me in on teatime and I’ll take you to the store right now to buy you abrand newteatime dress.”

“You, sir, got a deal!”

“Did your daughter just call me sir?” Foster asks as I hear Kyrie run off, yelling excitedly to Wren to get ready because they’re going shopping.

“I think I might have taken her to work a few too many times. Did she make you shake on it?”

“Yes. What kind of kid are you raising?”

“A businesswoman, apparently.”

“God, I love her.”

“I do too.” I laugh. “I guess since you’re going shopping, I don’t need to bring anything.”

“Nah, we’ve got it handled. I’m sure we’ll be fine. You just go enjoy a random night off, maybe get some unpacking done. Or get laid,” he adds casually.

“Unpacking doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” I say, ignoring his other comment—not just because Fran is sitting across from me, but because he knows I’m not really into casual sex. “My house looks incredibly bare.”

“I still don’t know why you just didn’t hire someone to unpack for you. You’re like a bajillionaire or some shit—I think you could afford it.”

I laugh. Foster knows that’s not my style. I haven’t always had money, and I’ll be damned if I waste what I have now on paying someone else to move my shit.

“I’m a little fancy, but I’m notthatfancy. Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

“Will do. Later, dude.”

We hang up, and I turn back to Fran. “So sorry about that.”

“Oh, no. Don’t apologize. I raised two kids myself, and they come first, always.”

“Glad we’re on the same page with that. Boys or girls?”

“One of each. Twins.”

“Twins?” I balk. “I can’t imagine two at once. Kyrie is a big enough handful.”

“I assure you, it was very exhausting.”

“Bless your beautiful soul.”

She chuckles. “I know we were supposed to have dinner,” Fran starts, “but would it be terribly rude to want to duck out early? I apparently have an early morning tomorrow, and I’d like to get started on looking over that paperwork. Your assistant is really on her stuff and has already sent it over.”

“No, no, of course not. I like that you’re so thorough that you want to really look it over. We can take a rain check on dinner. Looks like I just got a few extra uninterrupted hours to unpack my house, so I might as well use them to the fullest extent.”

We stand at the same time.

“Welcome to the team, Fran. I’m excited to work with you and get to know you better.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, Porter.” She swats my hand away and envelops me in the kind of hug I always wanted from my own mother. “I’m a hugger, and you’re just going to have to get used to that. I look forward to working with you. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

She grabs her purse and waves before heading out the door of Slice.

I drop back into the booth, letting my head rest against the vinyl as relief washes over me. I might have literally just hired Fran minutes ago, but I already feel lighter knowing I’ll have help. Moving out here has been a lot more stressful than I intended.

Though much of that is probably my own fault. Like Foster said, I could easily hire someone to do the moving and unpacking, but I wanted to handle it on my own. It’s added stress, but it feels good to be able to do this all myself, almost therapeutic in a way.

And I need all the therapeutic shit I can get after the disastrous few years I’ve had.

---