Page 3 of Bonus Daddy
Water dripped from my beard as I snagged a paper towel from the dispenser, muttering to myself.
“Get it together,” I said, surveying my reflection in the mirror andnoting my aching shoulder from where I’d slammed into the doorframe.
Only then did I realize I still had a fucking tiara on my head.
God dammit. I’d forgotten about the bet I’d lost to Murphy and T.J. I probably looked like an escapee from a psyche ward, not a competent attorney.
“Get it together.”
Lo appeared in the doorway, her expression murderous. “You’re acting ridiculous. You scared that poor woman and almost maimed Sully. Be a professional.” She paused, a slow smile spreading across her face. “And the tiara really brings out your eyes.”
I could be a dick and lash out. Make some mention of her relationship with Cal, which was a walking HR nightmare. But regardless of Lo’s judgment when it came to dating her boss, I couldn’t do this job without her. She was my right hand, and even now that I had to share her with Sully and Cal, she was the most efficient paralegal I’d ever worked with. Even stuck out here in Jersey City, in this hellhole of an office, with its musty gold carpet and peeling paint, she ran a tight ship, allowing us to keep things moving at the same pace we had back in the city. I couldn’t lose her, so I kept my thoughts about her office romance to myself. And while Cal was like a brother to me, I would seriously break his kneecaps if he fucked this up.
Luckily, he followed her around like a damn lost puppy. He was obsessed. He knew he’d won the girlfriend lottery, so for now, I pushed any concern about them to the back of my mind.
Currently, I chose to focus on how close we were to getting the fuck out of this state. We’d survived almost nine months in Jersey purgatory so far, meaning we’d be back in the city by the end of the summer. In a few short months, I’d be back in my corner office, where I could once again watch the fish tank to calm my nerves. And I’d be back in my own brownstone. Alone. Where I didn’t have to share a locker room–style bathroom with my two best friends, their women, and two seven-year-old boys.
I stomped out of the bathroom, tossed the plastic tiara onto the ping-pong table, and jogged down the stairs.
Faced with the choice between ripping off the band aid and telling Lo the whole story, or going downstairs and doing my job, I chose the latter, giving her a firm nod before jogging down the stairs. It was time to be a fucking adult.
“Has the motion been filed?” I asked with a professional smile, trying to salvage this meeting.
I sat, my lungs constricting, as I took in the woman sitting across from me.
She was blond, and the pink floral dress she wore, though modest, accentuated every one of her curves. A wave of nostalgia washed over me with so much force it almost knocked me on my ass.
She was older, her expression more serious, but those eyes were the chocolate brown color I’d seen in my dreams for years. And that dimpled smile hadn’t changed at all. What the hell wasshedoing in my office?
Jess flipped through the large Redweld folder she’d brought with her. “No. It hasn’t. Will was supposed to have done it, but he kept delaying things. That’s why I’m here. I can’t afford to wait any longer. School will be out soon.”
I nodded, attention drifting to my legal pad as I jotted down notes. Jessica was still beautiful. Long blond hair, full rosy cheeks, and dark brown eyes. The more I studied her, the more her features were familiar to me.
But regardless of her beauty, she was also unlikely to win this. “Relocation cases are notoriously difficult in New Jersey,” I explained, keeping my tone firm.
She nodded. “I know it’s a long shot. But I need this. My daughters need this.” She sniffled.
As an uncomfortable sort of sensation unfurled in my chest, I pushed the box of tissues on my desk toward her.
“The kids need a fresh start,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I need a fresh start. It’s been four years since the divorce. Myex doesn’t even live in the state anymore. He’s engaged. Again. I think this is fiancée number three. He doesn’t respect our visitation agreement and has no interest in his daughters.”
I clenched my fist in my lap, my teeth gritted. That motherfucker. There was nothing worse than a deadbeat dad.
“I’m not sure if you remember, but I’m from Vermont,” she explained, her lashes fluttering as she continued fighting back tears.
Oh, I remembered. I remembered every detail about her. Including the constellation of freckles on the top of her right thigh. Since the moment she walked in, memories had been hitting me at warp speed, like a highlight reel of my college days.
“The farm?” I asked. “How are your parents?”
Her face fell, and the tears she’d barely gotten under control welled once again. “They passed.” She dabbed beneath one eye, then the other. “Dad a few years after his heart attack and Mom last fall. My brother Josh runs the farm now, with help from Jasper. And Jenn lives in town with her wife and kids.”
I smiled at the mention of her siblings. They were good people. Memories of Jenn, especially, stuck out to me. The first time I met her, she’d sat me down and grilled me about my intentions, looking me in the eye, her shoulders pulled back the whole time.
That sensation was quickly followed by one of sympathy as the comment about her parents sank in. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She nodded, her shoulders sagging. “I can provide my kids with a much better quality of life up there. I’m exhausted, and I miss my family and my community.”
Lips pressed together, I searched for the right words. As a lawyer, I knew this was a tough case. But as a man? I felt a bit breathless at the thought of her leaving.
