Page 106 of Ella Gets the D
“That’s my cue.” I turn to Katharine, who’s fastening her jacket. She hugs Mama. “Please come see me before you leave.” Her eyes lift to mine with a smile. “Enjoy your night, Ella.”
“Get home safe.”
She takes one look out the window and laughs. “I’ll go out the front. Goodbye, ladies.”
Morgan stands by my side and hands me a mug of hot cocoa. “How are they having a snowball fight with no snow on the ground?” It must be fifty degrees outside.
I catch her smirk before she takes a sip. “Julian bought a snowmaker and has been sneaking out the basement to get it ready.”
Jackson hoped it would snow in time to have a snowball fight for his birthday. It didn’t happen, so Julian brought the snow to him.
We clink our mugs together and take in the battle of Georgetown in the backyard. Charles is long gone, and the kids are pelting the remaining snowballs at Julian and Joseph. The latter lifts Duke as a human shield and takes off behind the garage. Julian isn’t so lucky.
Jackson leads a high-speed chase after Julian, who’s now jumping over backyard debris. He finally surrenders, but that doesn’t save him from a snowball to the chest. He falls gloriously, and my son’s grin is infectious as his friends and sister surround him and cheer. Julian scoops him onto his shoulders and jogs around the backyard.
My quiet child who reserves his emotions is living out loud in vibrant color. His joy is uncontained as he smiles down at Julian, who looks up at Jackson with a smile of his own. His birthday was perfect. A reminder that when life throws a curve ball, have a snowball fight.
The guilt of my kids having an asshole for a father is not for me to carry, but it’s a weight that presses down on me. This moment, and the smile on my beautiful boy’s face, proves the power of unconditional love and chosen family.
Chapter 39
Julian
“I’m glad you finally called.”
That makes one of us.
Camila considers the paper menu written in fancy cursive, oblivious that I haven’t responded. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Her focus drops to the section of entrées guaranteed to be as unseasoned as this reunion.
I check my phone. Maybe there’s an email about a work fire I have to put out or an emergency that will get me out of here faster. Nothing.
“Excuse me.” I catch our server on his way to the kitchen. “Could I please get one of those giant pretzels with the dipping sauces? Get whatever you want, Camila.”
“I’ll have a dish of olives,” she says, confirming only one of us will suffer from trying to be cute in a restaurant. I’ve seen her take down a full rack of ribs and a half a pound of potato salad. She eats when she’s not keeping up appearances.
“Right away.” The server nods and disappears into a small group of colleagues in black and white. They’re zigzaggingbetween mahogany booths and round tables draped in white linen.
District Bakehouse is a top spot for business lunches. The bakery alone tempts you into a carb coma, but the restaurant offers upscale dining without any romantic ambiance or undertones. Valentine’s Day was a month ago. Save the hearts and flowers and bring the bread.
Camila pulls her napkin into her lap and adjusts her cream blouse. “Your mother was at the benefit luncheon last week. She was thrilled to hear we’re meeting today.”
“I’m sure she was.” Pleased I obliged her request to see Camila after months and bribery attempts in the form of homecooked meals. A man can only take in so muchsoup joumouandpoul ak nwabefore he caves.
“You look good.” Heat flashes in her eyes as they roam over my charcoal suit and canary tie. “What’s new?”
Everything worth protecting.
My head tips from side to side as I decide how best to respond. Camila thrives on gossip like the rest of the DC socialites who never learned to mind their business. I trusted her at one point, but that was years ago and under different circumstances.
“Work.” A given. “I’m coaching kids’ rugby. Our first game is coming up.”
“Fitting.” She nods with disinterest. If it doesn’t involve an exclusive guest list, it doesn’t register as important. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Straight to the point.
Camila peers around the server dropping off our appetizers who looks between us and smiles.Please don’t encourage her.
It was a risk asking her to lunch. She hasn’t stopped texting since she came back from whatever trip she was on last, and I don’t want her or anyone else to get the wrong idea. Ella agreed that Camila’s constantHey, what are you up to?messagesbreached excessive. The fact that she didn’t string me from the ceiling by my dick or kick me to the curb for drama with my ex is a testament to how incredible she is after everything she’s been through.
