Page 43 of Bonus Daddy
“The Farmacy,” Kit read. “What’s that?”
“A uniquely Brooklyn institution,” I explained as I stepped past Sully, who held the door for us. “At the turn of the century, this was an apothecary.”
“What’s that?”
“An old-fashioned drugstore, where people went to get medicine and other health-related stuff,” Jess explained.
The place was now a vintage ice cream parlor and soda fountain. “I hope you’re hungry,” I said, “because the sundaes here are the size of Fuzzy.”
“Yes,” T.J. hissed, jumping up and down.
We all piled into a large pink booth, the kids clamoring to look at the ornate menus.
Jess smiled at me from across the table, where Murphy was quietly telling her a story aboutMinecraft, and my heart clenched.
That smile.
I wanted to earn it every day. I wanted all her smiles.
And that was a terrifying thought.
But this felt easy. Kids, chaos, ice cream. I wasn’t sure what I’d been so afraid of for so long.
“What are you getting?” Greta asked me.
Before I could open my mouth, Cal jumped in. “Brian doesn’t like ice cream.”
Every person at the table looked at me in shock.
“No,” I corrected, smoothing down my tie. “I like ice cream. I just don’t eat it often.”
“Sus,” Kit declared, once again perusing her menu.
“Super sus,” Greta echoed, giving me a dubious look.
“Do you want to share with me?” Jess asked. “I’m salivating over the Ninety-Nine Problems, but I can’t eat the whole thing.”
I tilted closer to Greta and scanned her menu. I didn’t actually care what the Ninety-Nine Problems consisted of. I was too damn giddy about sharing ice cream with the beautiful woman across from me, but I figured I should pretend to confirm that it sounded palatable.
“Yes. Sounds awesome.” I straightened. “I love chocolate.”
Sully’s lips tugged down, but I ignored the look, busying myselfwith listening to the kids while they debated the merits of the choices on the very extensive menu.
After we’d placed our order, Greta propped her elbows up. “Why is Brian the only one who ever walks Fuzzy?”
“Because Lo told him to,” Cal said. “And we do what she says.”
“When Fuzzy came to live with us, Brian started the walking routine. None of us had any interest, so we let him,” Sully added.
“But Lo told us that he’s your cat,” Kit added, scrutinizing Cal.
He threw his hands up. “Fuzzy Wuzzy loves him. No one can explain it. I bought him organic cat treats and so many toys, but from the start, he chose Brian to be his bit—oops.” He winced, then turned on the charming smile that always got him out of trouble. “Sorry. I mean butler. He wanted Brian to be his human butler, and who are we to say no to a cat who has made up his mind?”
The girls giggled. T. J. did too. Murphy gave Cal a soft look that resembled one a parent would give their child, not the other way around. But that was the kind of relationship the two of them had.
“So you got stuck with the cat,” Jess said softly.
I shrugged. “I could do without the litter box, but I don’t mind the walks. They help me clear my head. Though he’s a pain in the ahh—butt at night. He likes to sleep on my chest. And he drives me crazy, knocking things off my desk for fun.”
