Page 76 of Better Daddy
The door behind the bar swings open before the man, whose eyes have gone wide, can respond, and the bartender steps out. “You’ve got yourself a deal…”
“Sully.” I hold out a hand to the man who just made my day. If it were up to me, I’d pass on listening to strangers sing crappy songs all night, but what makes my wife happy makes me happy.
“Deal.” He shakes my hand. “Saturday, it is. Gunner said he’ll get a sign out tomorrow and will post about it on the bar’s socials tonight.”
“Perfect.” I step back and stick my hands in the pockets of my trousers. “Thanks.”
I hustle back across the street, preparing myself for Lo’s wrath. The front door to the office hasn’t even closed behind me when Lo hisses my name. “Sully.” Bollocks. She looks really pissed. She’s leaning against the folding table where Amy works with her arms crossed like she’s been waiting for me to walk back in so she can pounce.
“Lo.” I dip my chin, going for casual.
“Since when does my job entail being a pimp?”
“What?” My stomach sinks. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. Bloody hell.” Though I guess I didn’t make that clear before I bolted out of here.
She taps the toe of her ridiculously expensive shoe against the ugly gold carpet.
“What did you tell them?” I ask as I move slowly toward the stairwell that leads to the apartment.
“That I would love to find someone for them to sleep with since, apparently, cheating is the only grounds for divorce their parents will accept. Because clearly, the only sane answer to this problem is for them both to cheat.” Sarcasm drips from her lips.
“Well done, then. Jolly good.” I pull the door open and escape.
“Sully,” she shrieks after me.
I allow her to yell, and nod along that of course I’m a ridiculous sod and absolutely she’s deserving of a new pair of fancy shoes. Honestly, I’d give the woman anything she wants. There’s not a thing that can’t kill my good mood knowing how excited my wife will be when she realizes she’s getting her karaoke night.
Chapter 26
Sloane
Icannot be late again. And this Uber driver is far more cautious than any I’ve ever encountered. If he doesn’t pick up the pace, I’ll be better off hopping out and walking the ten blocks to the courthouse.
“Think it’d be faster to take a side street?” I ask him, eyeing the gridlock all around us.
The man shrugs, keeping both hands on the steering wheel. “If we can get to one.”
Slumping back against the seat, I close my eyes. Dammit. There’s no way I’ll make it to the mediation on time. I set my shoulders and type out a quick text to Will, letting him know I’ll be there as soon as I can.
My phone rings almost immediately, and when I see my boss’s name, I take a deep breath and answer. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine, seriously. Take your time. I’ve got this.”
I had a glucose test this morning, which I warned Will about weeks ago. While I’m thankful that he isn’t berating me for being late, the way he’s so quick to handle it without me stings. As if my presence during this mediation is completely unnecessary. He’s assignedme to help with just about every one of his cases, yet he doesn’t seem toneedme on any of them.
“How did the appointment go?”
Shrugging as if he can see me, I sink farther into my seat, closing my eyes. “I’ll have the results in a week or so.”
“Don’t stress. Go back to the office. I can fill you in on the mediation over dinner.”
My eyes fly open. “Overwhat?”
“Dinner,” he says firmly. “The judge is walking in, so I have to go. I’ll be back by four thirty. We can go then.”
“Um…” My chest tightens. Dinner tonight? I can’t. My husband and I have a date night planned. One I was really excited about, too, because it included three hours with him. Naked. In our penthouse, without any of our roommates or our son.
But I can’t very well tell my boss that. And I can’t weasel my way out of it after I’ve blown off mediation today. Shoot.
