Page 25 of The Grumpy Billionaire
“The station’s not going to give you favorable coverage just because I work here, you know.”
“That’s not why I called.” Dad had the nerve to sound offended. Exasperation filled his voice. “I’m calling because I need to see my little girl. In person.”
“I’m really swamped with work. I just got this huge assignment dumped in my lap,” I said, which was true if not the real reason for my avoidance. “After work I’m really busy at home with Bax and Bowie.”
He chuckled. “I know they’re a handful, but boys will be boys. They’ll be okay. How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine,” I lied through a clenched jaw.
“I’ve tried calling her, but she won’t talk to me,” Dad said. “That’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you, besides just catching up. I think she’s going through a menopause thing… or a mid-life crisis. I mean, that long-haired bozo she’s hooked up with…”
“Stop. Just stop right there.”
I rubbed a hand over the front of my shirt, trying to alleviate the sudden tightness in my chest.
“Mom would murder you if she could hear you blaming your separation on herhormones. And she’ll killmeif I talk to you about her personal life. Mine is none of your business either. You’ve meddled quite enough for one lifetime.”
“Mara. I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. I’m sorry you were hurt. I didn’t realize you were that attached to the kid—I thought you’d get over him and move on. I only did what I thought was best for you, to protect you.”
“No, you did what you thought was best foryou. What you wanted to protect was your political career. You wanted to be Governor, and you didn’t think you could get there as the Attorney General whose daughter was dating the son of a mobster.”
My father’s silence told me I’d hit the nail squarely on the head. When he finally responded, he didn’t deny it, but he did sidestep my accusation.
“The guy wasn’t worthy of you,” he explained. “He still isn’t, no matter how much ‘new money’ he has. There are rumors he got the seed money to start his company from his father. I hope you’re not planning to take up with him again. I can still make his life a living hell, you know. It would be a shame if his business permits got pulled while there was an investigation into—”
I hung up without waiting to hear the rest of the threat. In fact I didn’t want to hearanythingthat man had to say. It was a shame to flush a lifelong relationship, but he’d given me no choice.
Even after all these years, it made me sad. I mean, before he’d threatened the love of my life and destroyed mine in the process, therehadbeen some good times. Family vacations, doing puzzles together in front of the fireplace in winter, fishing off the pier behind our house.
He hadn’t always been a manipulative bastard.
That almost made it worse. If he’d been some kind of monster my whole life, there’d be nothing to miss. And Ididmiss having a father.
I dropped my head and rubbed my left temple where a sharp ache was beginning. The lack of sleep, the surprise assignment switcheroo from Rob, and then my dad’s call—could this day get any worse?
A pair of long, thick legs and huge boots came into my view. I glanced up to see Sheldon’s sneaky grin.
“So, I hear we’ll be spending some quality time with your boyfriend.”
“You do realize your testicles are exactly at left hook level, don’t you?” I snarled up at him.
Sheldon skipped to the side with a high laugh. “Look out, mini-Mara’s on the warpath. Hey, when you’re done threatening my man-parts, we’ve got to get over to the Superman building downtown. Some developer wants to turn it into condos.”
“Okay. Let me grab my notes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
* * *
After work I went home and had dinner with Bax and Bowie, who’d somehow managed to get to school this morning and make it through the day.
At least I assumed they had—I hadn’t gotten a call saying they were AWOL.
Cheryl had left a pan of eggplant parmesan and some homemade garlic bread in the oven’s warming drawer and a fantastic mixed green salad in the refrigerator. The boys wolfed the meal down, answering my questions between mouthfuls.
“How are your college applications coming along?”
Knowing I wanted to attend an Ivy since the ninth grade, I’d sent in my application on the first day they’d opened to them. My brothers weren’t quite as certain about—or as interested in—their college plans.
“Good,” Bowie said. “I’m planning to go to RISD and major in finger painting.”
