Page 23 of Daddy's Best Friend

“Okay, well you’re still learning, so stop beating yourself up.” She stood back and reached into her pocket, pulling out a tissue. “Here,” she said, thrusting it into my hand. She was being kind, more kind than I gave her credit for. That kindness made me cry harder.

“I am really stressed out. I’m not feeling well. Can you tell Alan that I’ll get him the report tomorrow? I think I need to go lie down.” I dabbed my eyes and stepped around her.

“Yes, Ella. I’ll let him know.” Heather retreated toward the door as I shut down the computer and collected my purse andsweater. She hovered for a moment with the same triumphant look on her face. I didn’t even care if she had won this round by making me feel stupid or weak. She could win. “Feel better soon.”

She slipped out as I pulled my phone from my purse and opened the Uber app to call a car. I hated having to Uber home when I could wait for Alan to finish his meeting and ride with him, but I didn’t want him to see that I’d been crying. Heather was sure to tell him anyway, but at least that would be after his meeting. And if the meeting went longer than she thought, it could be hours before he found out. Which meant I’d be home, showered, and probably napping before he even found out.

I headed down to the street to wait for the car, and by the time I got down, the Uber was here. The Cuban man was chatty—not at all like a typical Uber driver. He asked me why I was crying and like a blubbering idiot I told him why. He was a perfect stranger, and one I’d likely never see again, but somehow it was comforting to release all my pent-up emotions onto him.

“You’re a good listener. I don’t mean to bother you with my work stress,” I told him.

I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and saw the smile on his face. Stopped in traffic, he turned over his shoulders and said, “No, problem. My wife acts like this when she is having PMS.” His thick accent and the way he chuckled haunted me. “I have three daughters too. It’s always the same.”

The car behind us honked and he turned around and started driving, but what he said struck me. This could be PMS; my period was due to start any day. I started thinking about the dates, counting when my last period was and how long it hadbeen. My panic only increased as I realized my period was due a few weeks ago and it hadn’t come.

My mind jumped to conclusions, and I felt like I was going to be sick. My period was late. I was emotional. I squeezed my tits—they were achy. I hadn’t felt sick, but not all women got morning sickness. What if I was pregnant?

“Can you stop? Stop please.”

The driver looked up at me in the mirror. “We have a few miles left until your stop. You’ve already paid.”

“No,” I blurted, frustrated. I pointed at the pharmacy on the corner. “I’ll give you 30 bucks if you just stop and let me run in real quick. Like, I’ll give you cash. I just need to get something.”

The man shrugged his shoulders and furrowed his brow. “We’re not really supposed to do that.” He sighed, studying my face in the mirror. “But I can tell you’ve had a rough day. Okay. I’ll stop.”

“Thank God. Thank you so much.” I waited until he put the car in park and handed him 30 dollars out of my purse, then climbed out of the car. I raced into the corner pharmacy, darting right to the women’s health section. It took me a moment to find what I was looking for, and checking out was nerve wracking, but I got it.

My nerves were shot. The kindness of the Uber driver was a little comfort, but not enough to squelch my racing heartbeat. My hand trembled as I opened the car door and climbed back in, oblivious to the driver’s chatter as he took me the rest of the way to Alan’s house.

How could I pay attention to him? My world could be ending.

18

ALAN

After a very long and difficult board meeting regarding our new acquisition—the small local hotel chain—I sat at the head of the conference table staring up at the television screen mounted on the wall. The majority of the properties were in need of renovations, which had not been fully disclosed by the sellers before we took ownership. Some of this was to be expected, and we knew we would be investing, but a few of the board members were not pleased with the dollar amount we’d have to put out in order to begin turning a profit.

It had taken me and my operations officer the better part of three hours to give a full rundown of the risks and associated costs. And after the last few board members had left the room, I remained. This entire project had taken its toll on the rest of my job, which left me frustrated and constantly behind on important tasks, but I’d considered the risk worth it because it meant growth. I hadn’t changed my mind about the potential, but I was beginning to regret being so gung-ho about it.

I leaned back in the chair and propped my feet up on the table, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I had a missed call fromTodd, and a message from Ella, sent to me before lunch. She sent me an invitation to dine with her, followed by a smattering of smiles and heart emojis. I felt bad letting her down, but at the time she’d sent the message, I was knee deep into a mess that only got worse as the board members gathered for the meeting.

Todd’s call had come later, only 30 minutes ago, so I decided to respond to him first. I’d see Ella in only a short time now, with the workday being almost finished. We’d ride home together and talk about our day. Since she had moved in, it had become a comfortable habit, discussing strategies, and hearing her take on some of the decisions the board was making. I really enjoyed it, because instead of feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, I had a friend to run things past.

I dialed Todd’s number and waited, but it rang through, so I started to leave a voicemail when my call waiting rang. It was Todd. I switched calls and answered.

“Hey, Todd. I saw I missed you earlier. In a board meeting, sorry about that.”

“Yeah, no problem. It’s what we do, right?” Todd’s tone was curt, stern even. It sounded like he’d had a bad day.

“What’s up?” I assumed it had something to do with his daughter, considering that was the only reason he called me anymore. We used to talk about once a month, business mostly. But now we talked weekly at least. Last week he was concerned about her drinking after having heard from Alex about the incident at the nightclub with Whitney. It had taken him a few weeks to hear about it. I had assured him that I picked her up and took her home.

The week before that he had heard she moved and lectured me for coddling her. I assured him she was paying rent and doing just fine. It was convenient because I could keep closer tabs on her. After an hour of finessing his temper, I had managed to convince him it was better that she lived on my property than in the dorm with that horrible roommate of hers.

I could only imagine what he wanted this time.

“Listen, you see a lot more of Ella than we do.” Todd huffed and paused.

I sighed, trying not to grow frustrated with him. My day had not been the best, and I really didn’t want to deal with this. “Yes, and I’m keeping tabs on her.”

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