Page 7 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I have meetings with three potential nannies tomorrow.”

“I know. I set them.”

“Geez. Someone’s a know-it-all.”

“You sure you don’t want me to send over any details?”

“I’m certain. Just names, and only right before the interviews. You know I don’t want to accidentally be partial.”

“You’re a good businessman, Porter. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

“You don’t. In fact, I’m writing it into your next contract to tell me every single day from now on.”

She huffs. “That’s the last thing we need—your head getting bigger.”

“My head could use some clearing out, actually.”

“Then enjoy your night off. You’ve been busting your ass lately. It’s okay to not be on the go nonstop.”

“You know I’ll feel guilty just sitting at home and letting those boxes collect dust.”

“Then don’t go home and stare at them. Go out. Take yourself to dinner. See a movie. Relax. You deserve a night to just be.”

She’s not entirely wrong. I’ve been in go mode for years now, ever since shit started to hit the fan with my ex-wife.

It’s how I’ve kept going. That and the anger burning inside me.

It’s been dissipating lately, I think due to the idea of a fresh start, but it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface. I try to hide it as best I can for Kyrie, but I don’t always do the greatest job.

Hence my tequila escapades.

I run my hand through my hair, not caring if I’m messing it up. “I could benefit from a drink or two.”

“I swear, if you go anywhere near tequila…” Mel warns.

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve officially sworn off the liquid devil after that last brush with it.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she grumbles. “Just promise me.”

“I promise, Mel.”

“Good boy. Now go enjoy your night—sans tequila.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Porter.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

I hear her laugh at the pet name as she hangs up.

I remember the first time I let one slip with her. I think if I didn’t pay her so well, she’d have ripped my balls off.

Now I just do it to piss her off, but I think she secretly loves it when I use them.

I grab my water glass and head toward the bar, taking an empty seat.

“Back so soon?” Simon asks as I get settled, a towel hanging over his shoulder. “Things go okay?”

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