Page 18 of Better Daddy
He follows me to the elevator, and as we pass one glass wall after another, each one leading into another associate’s office, no one spares us a glance.
Every one of them is absorbed in their work. Meanwhile, I’m acting like an incompetent fool. All these twenty-somethings have their lives together. They show up at the crack of dawn and don’t leave until late into the night.
I, on the other hand, stroll in here late and leave early. This is just one more reminder that I don’t belong.
I hit the elevator button aggressively as Julius steps up beside me, fixing his jacket.
“What is happening? And why were you running through the office?”
I grin. “Couldn’t keep up with me?”
“People should never run in Louboutins or Tom Ford, darling. Now tell me why you broke the rule.”
I glance down at my rose-gold shoes, cursing myself for putting them on this morning. Every time I wear them, something absurd like this happens. First the pregnancy test, now the tea incident and the car on fire.
I snort. The car is definitely not on fire. My husband is so dramatic.
“Because I spilled my tea and my ex thinks my car could be on fire. I’m rushing so I can prove to him how dumb he is.” I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t care.
Julius raises a styled blond brow. “Is it on fire?”
My expression flattens out. Is he fucking serious? “Of course it’s not.”
He shrugs as we step onto the elevator. “I hate when they mansplain.”
Validated by that response, I relax against the back wall of the stainless-steel box. “Exactly.”
“But what if it is on fire?” Julius muses.
“It’s not.” I stab at the button for the garage.
With his hands in his pockets, he leans against the wall beside me. We’re silent as we descend, and we remain that way until we make it to my car. The one that clearly hasn’t burst into flames. “Ha.” I point at the SUV and hold up my phone.
The screen is filled with missed call notifications. It buzzed in my hand the whole way down here, but I ignored it. Now, I navigate to Sully’s contact and tap the FaceTime icon. While I wait for him to accept the request, I climb into the driver’s seat, grinning. See? It’s perfectly fine.
When Sully’s face finally appears, I stab the icon that activates the camera on the back side of the phone so he can see that everything is as it should be.
“Jesus, Sloane,” he says. “I’ve been calling you nonstop.”
With a roll of my eyes, I grasp the charging cord plugged into the console. I must have forgotten to plug my phone in last night; the battery is dangerously low. “What was the point of arguing before I could show you that the car is fine?”
“Uh, Sloane,” Julius says from the other side of the open driver’s door. He points past me, his eyes wide.
From the phone, Sully curses. “The console is sparking! Where the mobile is plugged in. It’s smoking. Get out of the goddamn car.”
Instantly a cloud of smoke engulfs me, making my eyes water. Shit.
“Sloane, get the fuck out of the car,” Sully booms.
“Right. Uh, sorry. I’m just so confused.” Coughing, I step out of the car.
Unsure of how to handle the situation, I leave the door open. I keep a firm grip on my phone, but I can’t back too far away since it’s still plugged in.
“Are you okay?” Sully asks, his tone still elevated. If I didn’t know my husband so well, I’d think it was panic rather than just anger.
Julius yanks the cord from my phone and lets it fall to the ground.
Realizing all Sully can see is the concrete beneath me, I flip the camera again. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, but the alarm is quickly edged out by frustration when I notice that he’s not even on screen. No, where his image should be, all I find is a black screen.
