Page 13 of Who's Your Daddy
I think it’s finally sinking in. This is not a joke.
“Four,” Brian says as he walks past me. I follow him to the living room. No way do I want to stay in the bathroom and see whatever he saw.
“I’ll take this one.” Sully peeks into a room with an oversized, rounded door. When he steps through it, he doesn’t even have to duck.
“Murphy needs his own room.” Brian points to two doors side by side. “These can be yours.”
I frown. “What about Sloane and T.J.? Where will they sleep?”
Sully appears again, hands in his pockets, face etched with determination. “I can fit a queen and a bunk bed in my room.”
Brian’s lips turn down. “Only T.J. is required to stay. He and Murphy could probably share a room. They’re close in age, and since they’re both boys, I’m sure the court would be okay with that.”
“No.” My brother’s tone leaves no room for objection.
I smirk. “No?”
“T.J.andSloane are moving in. They’ll stay with me.”
Brian glances at me then back at Sully. “According to the trust, family is required to stay here. If Sloane signs the divorce papers, then she’s not family.”
I wince, my chest aching. It hurts to think of Sloane as anything but my sister. I can’t even imagine how Sully feels since she left him. My normally grumpy brother has turned into an absolute bear, making me a little afraid to ask.
“She doesn’t have to stay,” Brian continues. “We just need to get her to agree to let T.J. move in.”
Sully rocks back and forth on his feet. “I’mnot signing them.”
“You’re not signing the papers I spent weeks working on so that she’d agree not to fight for interest in the firm? Your father’s firm that you’ve sacrificed every good part of your life for?” Brian’s words aren’t harsh, despite the topic. His tone is one of pure confusion.
Sully shakes his head and hits us with his signature glare. “No. I’m getting my wife back. I’ll convince her to move in with us. And neither of you will tell her another option even exists.”
I run my hand over my face, trying to hide my smile. “Oh, that’ll go over splendidly, I’m sure, considering that your wife hates you.”
She truly does. I love my brother, obviously, and I adore Sloane,so I would love for them to work things out, but after the disaster their separation has been, I don’t see that happening.
“You’ve got your own shit to worry about.” With a scoff, he grabs his phone and stalks out of the flat, ending the conversation.
While Brian disappears into the last bedroom, muttering about how fucking miserable this next year will be, I take another step toward the bedroom they’ve delegated to Murphy.
The small space is sparse. It’s empty of all furniture, and fuck, there isn’t even a light fixture. I blow out a breath and rock on my feet, imagining what a little boy would like. Obviously, he needs a bed and a place to put his clothes. Does he even have clothes? If not, where do I get them? And what size should I buy? I glance down at my suit. Maybe my tailor could whip up a couple for him so we match. Shit, that makes me smile. Picturing the two of us in matching suits. Drinking our slushies. Smiling at Lola.
Lola.
What are she and Murphy doing right now?
Until now, I’ve never really thought about what an emergency guardianship entails. I’ve never considered how Lola knows what to provide, let alone what to say to kids when they’re put in these situations.
I wish I remembered Murphy’s mother, but try as I might, I can’t conjure her.
Memory or not, the woman never contacted me about a child. That pisses me off. I’ve missed out on so much. I’d like to think I’d have done the right thing and been involved from day one if she’d told me. If that had happened, then my father would have gotten to know his other grandson. Fuck. He was always great with T.J.
But all thesewould have, could have, should have’sdon’t change a thing. I didn’t know, and now I do.
And I don’t have a fuck ton of time to figure out how to be a father.
I slip my phone from my pocket and open the notes app. Then Istart a list of things I’ll need. Two beds, two dressers, two light fixtures. Clothes.
What else does a kid need?
