Page 20 of Better Daddy
Chapter 6
Sully
Ifly into the parking garage with my heart in my throat. All the way here, I told myself to remain calm. That Julius would keep Sloane away from the car. But until I see her with my own eyes—far away from the car and perfectly fine—I won’t relax.
When her white Mercedes comes into view, I slam on the brakes and haul myself out of the driver’s seat.
Sixty feet away, Sloane stands, arms crossed, staring off into space like she’s lost. All I want is to make her feel better.
“Sloane,” I call as I sprint to her.
I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her close, but as I get closer, she steps back. Her expression shutters, locking me out. Fucking hell. Every time I remember I’m not allowed those moments anymore, it’s like a bullet to the heart.
I pull to a stop and keep my hands to myself while I inspect her from head to toe to ensure she’s not injured. Because even though I’m standing here next to her, my heart still doesn’t believe it. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assures me, though she shakes her head, contradicting herself. “Great. Just wonderful. So what if the car is on fire?” She waves a hand at the vehicle, which is not currently on fire.But…
“As long as you aren’t near it, I agree.”
She assesses me, a storm of emotions brewing in her eyes.
“What are we going to do with it?” she asks, averting her gaze.
“I called for a tow. Should be here in”—I pull back the cuff of my suit jacket to check the time—“thirty minutes.”
She nods. “So I have no car.”
My chest tightens at the defeat in her tone. “I’ll buy you a new car. Bullocks, I’ll buy two. But please, I’m begging you, move in with me so I can be around to help with shite like this.”
Instead of looking at me or answering my plea, she eyes Julius.
He cocks a brow, and her body slumps. “Fine. I’ll move in with you.”
My facial muscles, so used to frowning, twitch awkwardly as a smile takes over. Her agreement might be a begrudging one, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“Don’t get too excited. I’m not coming today. I have to pack.”
“Okay.” My heart feels lighter than it has in years. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow” seems like a fantastic idea until I make it home that night and assess our shitty flat.
I spend fifteen minutes rearranging Cal’s forty-three plants, relegating them to a few areas to free up a little space in the lounge, but it’s useless. The buggers are invasive as hell.
“Greenery makes people happy,” Cal says as he picks up a small white ball from the pool-slash-Ping-Pong table he purchased when we moved in.
I shoot him a glare. “If you throw that at me, you plonker, you won’t like what happens next.”
Cal chuckles as his enormous Maine coon cat darts out of theroom and lunges for the kitchen counter, where Brian is busy making a sandwhich. “Relax. You’re scaring Fuzzy Wuzzy.”
“Dammit,” Brian barks from the kitchen. “Get down. You’re too big to be on the counter. I said down, Dammit.”
“Don’t call him that.” Cal spins and stomps away to deal with Brian and his cat.
Normally, I’d chuckle at the little tiff the two are always engaged in over the animal’s name, but I’m too bloody stressed about bringing Sloane into this shithole to find any satisfaction in it.
“I still don’t know how you did it,” Lo says from the couch. “I was sure she couldn’t be convinced to move in.”
Roughing a hand over my jaw, I turn her way. “I—” I snap my mouth shut when I notice the fishbowl that should be in Cal’s room.
