Page 92 of Who's Your Daddy
But right now, I can’t promise her she won’t lose her job—though Brian wouldn’t dare let her go. And I’ll get nowhere if I continue to push.
“I’m sorry.” I stand and push my chair in. “I’ll do better.”
Her green eyes widen in shock.
“Need anything from me before I get out of your hair?”
I’d do anything to take away the weight on her shoulders.
She gnaws on her lip, like she actually does have a request, and God, I can’t help the bolt of excitement that zips through me.
Does she want a parting kiss? A back massage perhaps? Maybe a secret orga?—
“Could you find out what’s taking the exterminator so long? Once my space is cleared, the two of us won’t be stuck in here like this.” She waves a hand, as if the conference room is a prison cell. “That should make things easier.”
Right. Because, despite how desperate I am for more of her, she’d prefer to see less of me. The last bit of hope I’ve been clinging to shrivels even as I force an even expression and smile. “Of course. I’ll get right on that.”
I suppose I should actually call the exterminator now. I’ve been putting it off for the last six weeks, but if that’s really what Lola wants…
Fuck, not even my little song could make me smile right now.
“Why did you bring us here if you weren’t gonna get a slushie?” Across the booth, T. J. slurps his red and blue drink through an enormous straw.
Murphy’s slushie is only blue, and unlike his cousin, he takes his time sipping the frozen high-fructose corn syrup goodness.
With a groan, T. J. slaps a hand to his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Brain freeze! Ow, why does that always happen?”
Murphy chuckles. I try to do the same, but it’s pointless.
I’m depressed. Not even a dose of red dye slushie will lift my spirits. I want to date Lola. I want to spend time with Lola.
But all she wants is for me to disappear.
“You didn’t answer the question.” T.J. dives in again, taking another long pull of his drink.
I sigh. I’m not a good liar. Even if I was, I don’t have the energy to come up with an easy excuse for this emotion pushing against my chest. “Lola doesn’t want to sit with me anymore.”
There. It’s a simple explanation. Age appropriate too.
T.J. nods, a dribble of purple liquid running down his chin. “Bryce said he didn’t want to sit with me at lunch and my dad said?—”
He yammers on, but his words don’t register. Not when I notice how gaunt Murphy’s face has gone. Bollocks. I’m a jerk for bringing up my issue with Lola in front of him. The two of them are close. He’s intimated how he’d like her to spend more time with us—sleepovers and all. And I encouraged it. I gladly let him push her.The boy’s lost too much already. His own mother doesn’t return his calls. The last thing he needs is to worry that another person he cares about will disappear on him.
When T. J. runs out of steam, I hold up a hand. “It’s not like that. She’s got work to do, and I talk too much.” I look Murphy in the eye and add, “She’ll be right down the hall from me. She’s not going anywhere.”
T.J. gives me a big smile. “Of course she’s not. She’s Lola. She’s been around my whole life.”
Murphy takes a long sip of his drink, not meeting my eyes.
As if he’s no more comforted by that fact than I am.
It seems we’ve both fallen pretty hard for Lola Caruso.
T. J. insists on popping in to see his dad when we return, and then we stop by the conference room, where I smile at Lola. I do my best toappear completely at ease, hoping to sell how okay we all are to Murphy.
T. J. bounces off the bloody walls within minutes, making it impossible to herd him upstairs. While I’m trying to peel him off the ceiling—or so it feels—Amy stops me to ask a question regarding a motion she filed that the court rejected.
By the time I’ve explained that she filed it in the wrong court, my brother is screaming for me to get the kids under control. As if that hasn’t been my goal all along.
