Page 85 of Who's Your Daddy
“It's too bad they can't just have a Snapchat or something to remind each other. It would save us time.”
“Maybe one day. But until then”—He drops his feet to the floor and straightens, finger tapping the notepad next to her—“legal research.”
“The. Worst,” she grumbles at her computer screen.
I take the seat farthest from her. Just in case her idiocy is contagious.
I’ve just pulled up the phone number for the restaurant when the walkie-talkie crackles. “I need someone to assemble the Crown Motion,” Sully says, his words choppy. “Amy, can you come in here?”
“Gross. I hate assembling things. It’s such a pain to keep the papers in order when there are so many of them. I swear it’s impossible to keep track of what’s Exhibit A and what’s D.” She pushes to her feet. “Cal, you should hire someone to do the assembling.”
I rub my temples, silently reminding myself that stabbing people is wrong. Plus, if I murder her, then I’ll be the one stuck assembling the motion.
Not that I won’t be going through it once she’s assembled it today.She wasn’t wrong about how difficult it is for her to arrange each document in the correct order.
Once she’s left the room, Cal beams at me. “Look how much better she’s getting.” He tosses the little ball and catches it easily. “She didn’t even insist that you do it.”
I have no words. So I turn away from him and dial Berns Steakhouse. Even as I make the reservation, I’m in disbelief. I can’t seriously be making arrangements for the man I slept with just a few days ago to go out with someone else.
When the person on the other end of the line asks whether Cal would like a table in a corner with lower lighting or one in full light with a view of the restaurant, I turn and relay the question woodenly, a lump in my throat.
“Huh.” He taps his fingers on the table, looking perfectly at ease while I feel anything but. “What would you pick?”
Anger floods through me like a violent wave. Is he joking? This motherfucker is asking for my advice about the date he’s planning for someone who isn’t me?
“Full light,” I grit through my teeth.
His stupidly plump lips tug down as he takes in my answer. “Huh, wouldn’t have thought that.”
“Looks like we’re both being shocked by the unexpected today,” I snap back.
In response, he breaks into a grin I want to smack off his face. The man needs to learn to read a room.
I relay the request to the hostess and give her Cal’s name. When the perky woman ends the call, I slam my cell to the table with a grunt.
“Careful, Lola,” the bane of my existence chirps. “If you break that, then how will the two of us talk?”
If only smashing my phone meant I wouldn’t have to speak to him. “That would be tragic,” I grouse.
“It really would.” With one more of those obnoxiously devastating smiles aimed my way, he turns back to his computer.
I pull up the Case Information Statement for the Winters file and have just begun adjusting the expenses per the client’s updates when my computer pings, notifying me of a new email.
Like Pavlov’s dog, I’m conditioned to click on the icon immediately.
To: Lola Caruso
From: Callahan Murphy
Subject: Business meeting
I’ve scheduled a business meetingfor 8:30 p.m. at Bern Steakhouse. Your presence is mandatory.
Cal
My heart skips as I take in the words. All that for dinner with me?
Ignoring the butterflies threatening to take flight in my belly, I glare across the table. “What iswrongwith you?”
