Page 35 of Better Daddy
“It’s for Sloane.”
“Right.” Pretty boy scowls.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Will turns back to me. “Too bad you won’t be coming this year.”
The fuck? I’ve gone to the Higgins, Smith, and Dodge party every December for the last fifteen years.
“New York attorneys only,” the wanker reminds me with a smirk.
“Julius.” Sloane pops her head out of her office, her expression morphing into a confused frown as she takes in Will and me. “Will?”
My confidence swells when she doesn’t question my presence along withhis.
“I brought that for you.” Will’s eyes brighten, making him look like a puppy begging for attention. If he weren’t focusing that energy on my wife, I might find it funny. “Open it.”
Sloane takes the tube from Julius and slides out a rolled-up piece of literal parchment. “Hear ye, hear ye.” Her lips flatten. “Is the themeA Christmas Carol?”
I bite back a laugh. These fuckers throw an over-the-top Christmas party every year, and every year, they waste entirely too much of their firm’s money to create amagical adventure—their words, not mine.
“Yes, and we’ve booked the best place in the city.”
Sloane tips her head to the side.
“It’s going to be the event of the holiday season.” He eyes me, reminding me that it’s for New York attorneys only.
Over his shite, I pull myself up to my full height and smooth my tie. “It’s a good thing my wife works for a New York firm and is allowed a plus-one, then.” The words rumble out of me like a growl. I might as well have pissed a circle around her, claiming her. And it feels fucking good to remind him of exactly who she is to me.
Until the uncertainty in her expression registers and my stomach drops.
Bloody hell. What if she already has a date, and it’s not me?
Chapter 13
Sloane
“What do you think of this one?” I hold up the shower curtain and peer around the package at my phone, which I’ve propped up against a soap canister on a shelf at HomeGoods.
“I think,” Lo says, “that you’re dragging your feet rather than heading home because your husband asked you on a date.”
I pick up a second option. One with light blue waves. “Oh, I could do a beach theme.”
“Sloane’s is so not beach vibes.”
My shoulders sink. She’s right. My bathroom turned personal space is not beachy at all. So I pick up a pink one accented with black bows. “French? I always wanted to go to Paris. Sully promised we’d go for our ten-year anniversary.”
“Wasn’t that like a decade ago?” Lo teases.
Five years ago, but who’s counting? Certainly not Sully. He was too busy working his ass off to even remember.
“Ha ha. Laugh at me because I’m old,” I deadpan. I regretted mentioning Paris the second the words were out of my mouth. “Be careful. One day you’ll be old like me, and when you find yourselfstanding in the middle of HomeGoods, pregnant and wondering what you’re doing with your life, I hope you remember this moment.”
“Wow,” Lo says, cringing. “That is oddly specific.”
I groan. “You’re right. That won’t happen to you because Cal is obsessed with you. You’ll never be at a HomeGoods trying to avoid him because he asked you on a date.”
“Ah-ha!” Lo says. “I knew you were being cagey.”
I snag my phone and lean against the shower display, hoping I don’t go down with it. “I’m not being cagey. I’m avoiding. I’m very good at it.”
