Page 39 of Who's Your Daddy
Both Lola and Murphy blink back at me.
“Walkie…talkies?” the little man says slowly.
“Yes. I didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t like it. You’re too young for a phone but not for a walkie-talkie.”
Lola sighs, wiping her face with a napkin. “No, he’s probably too old for one.”
I shake my head. “If I’m not too old for a walkie-talkie, he isn’t.”
Wineglass in hand, she arches a brow. “They’ll never let him use it in school.”
Huh. Why not?
Murphy shrugs, giving me a pitying look. “Probably not. They’re pretty strict.”
“But how will I make sure you’re okay?”
“Cal.” Rather than chiding, Lola’s voice is soft. The single syllable is accompanied by the strangest action. Under the table, she gently squeezes my knee. Almost as soon as it happens, though, she pulls back, eyes widening.
I peer at her, wanting her to know just how okay the move was.That it was more than okay, and I wish she’d do it again. In fact, I wish she’d leave her hand there.Forever.
But she refuses to look at me.
Murphy tilts his head. “I’m okay, Cal. I used to ride the bus after school. If you want?—”
I shake my head. “I’m picking you up.”
He lifts one shoulder, like it’s nothing. “I’m just saying if you’re ever late or busy?—”
Lola straightens. “We’ll make sure he’s never too busy or late. And if he can’t be there, I’ll be there. Or Sloane, or Sully, or Brian.” Her green eyes are dark, fathomless as she adds, “We’ve got you, okay?”
Murphy gives us a single nod. I don’t blame him. If it were me, I doubt I could muster more. As it is, there’s no way I can speak right now.
I’m angry at his mother. She kept him from me. She never contacted me. All this time, she had this totally awesome smart kid and she didn’t even take care of him. She allowed him to travel on public transportation in New York fucking City by himself for gods’ sake.
But I’m not angry that she dropped him at our door.
I’m not angry that he’s here with me now.
And I’m not angry that Lola recognizes how much he needs us.
“Can I call my mom?”
My chest constricts. “What?”
“You have your mother’s number?” Lola asks. Thank fuck one of us can speak in full sentences.
Murphy nods.
Tone gentle, she leans forward and asks, “Why didn’t you say that before?”
A shrug of a shoulder is all we get.
Lola turns to me, shaking her head.
I’m a second away from catapulting out of my chair and diving into the phone to strangle his mum.
“It takes a long time to get to Bali,” he says. “She gets jet lagged. Figured I’d give her a few days to get settled.”
