Page 111 of Who's Your Daddy
“But I’m working.” And they didn’t call. Or text. Or send a carrier pigeon so I could plan ahead.
“Oh pish.” My mother waves a hand. “Surely you can take the rest of the day off.”
This has always been the problem. Careers and commitments mean little to them. And they’ve never understood my drive or dedication to my responsibilities.
“Dezi, June.” Cal steps out of the conference room, his gait easy, relaxed, like it always is. He shakes my father’s hand and kisses my mother's cheek. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Every word sounds better in that accent of yours, Cal,” my mother gushes.
“Yes, everyone loves the accent,” I agree, voice flat. “But as great as it is to see you,” I lie, “I really need to work.”
“Surely the guys can spare you for a day.” My dad turns to Cal. “Can’t you?”
Desperately, I eye him, silently telegraphing how badly I don’t want to be spared.
“Actually,” he says without looking my way.
Shit.
“It just so happens that I’ve got a set of tickets you might find appealing.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “There is a ghost tour up the Hudson today.”
My mother’s face lights up. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to meet a ghost.”
“It’s on our bucket list,” my father agrees.
“Brilliant. I’ve got three tickets here.”
“Three?” I squeak.
“Oh, hear that buttercup, you can come!” My dad smacks Cals back. “Good man.”
He chokes out an uncomfortable laugh. “I-uh-actually, Lola can’t go today, but there are three tickets for a reason.”
My heart skips. Is this man seriously planning to go in my place? It’s a ridiculously kind gesture, but if the three of them spend the day together, they’d probably end up in Timbuktu because it sounds like an adventure.
“We have this ghost,” he says. “And I think you’ll love him.”
I groan.
“Ghost?” Mom side-eyes me, her lips quirking. “You didn’t tell me you had a ghost, Lola. How exciting.”
“His name’s Sebastian and he’s a biker. I thought he might be interested in tagging along on your riding tour.”
“Well, isn’t this a fun turn of events, June,”my dad booms.
Mom nods, beaming at Cal, and I breathe out a sigh.
“Are you sure you kids don’t want to come?”
“Sadly, these were the last three tickets available.” Cal shrugs. “But Fuzzy and I will walk you out.”He whistles, as if the cat will actually respond.
When he doesn’t, I pick up the box of cat treats we keep stashed out here and give it a shake. Five seconds later, the huge creature appears.
“Oh my!” my mother squeaks. “What a beautiful cat. Lola always wanted a cat, you know?”
Hands in his pockets, Cal nods. “That’s why I got her the best cat ever.”
“This is your cat?” My dad cocks a brow in my direction.
