Page 12 of Hate To Love You

It’s too late. You left. You saved me, and then you abandoned me, and I’m not over it. I’ll never be over it. Bringing me to your wonderful, fantastical mushroom house and trying to save my dad and his company and our whole lives isn’t enough to make me forget.

“I don’t think it’s that easy.” I even manage not to sound royally pissed.

Which I am, because when I taste the eggs…dear god, they’re good. They’re so, so good. I suddenly realize I’m starving.

“I know it won’t be easy. That’s why we need a failproof, beyond excellent plan.”

“It will have to be one hell of a plan.”

“I vote that we wait three weeks and then tell them we’re pregnant.”

I choke and cough loudly. Eggs nearly come flying out of my mouth. And my nose. My eyes water. In the end, I force myself to swallow and then reach for the tall, perfectly chilled glass of water. “What?” I barely have any breath left to yelp it, but yelp it I do. “Are you insane? That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard!”

“It’s a great plan. If we’re having a baby, they have to get along.”

“They don’t. They can just keep hating each other. Haven’t you ever heard that bringing a child into the world as a way to fix problems is the worst thing a person can do?”

“Naturally. But there wouldn’t actually be a baby.”

I can’t have this conversation. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and talk about babies with this man. It’s making me hot under my skin and making me squirm in the chair. The velvet feels like extra friction, and I’m going to burst into flames. This house is probably equipped with sprinklers that go off at the first whiff of smoke, though, so I’d probably be okay.

Or not.

I feel like my nipples are going to combust. They’re probably smoking right now. I imagine smoke seeping through the armholes of my T-shirt, so I quickly slam my arms over my chest. Just in case my nipples are peaking. There’s always that too. The sprinklers would only make it more obvious. Damn him and his talk about babies because now it has me thinking about his babymaker.

It’s not that gross. This isn’t the friend who was once as close to me as a brother. That boy is long gone. In his place is a man I don’t even know. A man hot enough to need sprinklers of his own.

“I know,” I hiss. And then I realize. He’s joking. He’s making the world’s worst joke, and I just reacted in the world’s worst way.

I’m not rising to this. I’m not going there. I’m not going to make this about us when it’s only about our dads. “I’ve tried everything over the years to get my dad to see reason. I’m sure you have, too, even if it was from afar.” I don’t even bother with disguising the edge in my voice. “Nothing is going to work. Even if we come at it from the way you cook chicken and go low and slow, it’s not going to work. Fast and hot isn’t going to work either. They’re just…entrenched in their silliness. My dad had some good ideas, and your dad didn’t like them. My dad started it as a side hustle because he couldn’t not do it. It’s never taken off and become boomingly popular, but it works. His software is important. I feel like your dad might have done some poisoning of the well, so it’s hard to get contracts. It’s hard to get the word out there. No one will give him the time of day, and he’s not so great at marketing. I’ve tried to get him to dedicate more money to that department, but he won’t even hear of it. The company is so small and basic, and we’ve barely scraped by, but sometimes great ideas take a long time to come to fruition. All that time is needed to perfect them.”

Apollo doesn’t need to be convinced. His face tells me he already believes everything I’m saying. “That’s why I want to help. I won’t just give bailout money. I’ll make sure your dad’s ideas get out there. That they reach the right ears and the right people.”

“I’m sure you have influence all over the world.” Yes, I said it sarcastically. And no, I can’t help it, even though I’m happy about this. I really am. Sometimes, it’s just hard to eat the humble pie because it tastes like mud and shite…and eating shite pie never did a happy person make.

“I wouldn’t say all over the world, but I do know a few people in different places, and they know a few people who would know a few more, so I think that’s a great start.”

Ugh, this man and his positivity, his skunk, his mushroom house, his plans, his contacts, his money, his delicious eggs, and his perfect everything else is really obnoxious because it’s so easy to want to…to want to enjoy this. Fractionally. Seriously fractionally.

Maybe it’s just that for the first time in years, I have this glimmer of hope. For my dad. I can do this for him. I can.

“Maybe we should invite them out here for a weekend,” I say, but immediately regret it because I was going to add my dad would love this place so freaking much, and he hasn’t had a vacation in years. It’s been all stress. I don’t want to give family secrets away. I don’t want to do anything that might betray my dad’s trust.

Everyone has an angle.

I haven’t figured out what Apollo’s is yet. This can’t just be about making up for lost time or keeping a childhood promise. That hardly makes sense. He could just be playing me, for all I know. He could be trying to find out top-secret information to ruin my dad’s company that way. My dad wouldn’t have sold for all the money in the world, so Apollo couldn’t have bought it or his technology. I know Apollo is rich, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but hey. Never underestimate the power of wanting revenge, and John truly does hate my dad now.

“That’s a great idea.” He picks up his fork and eats like he’s relieved enough to have an appetite now that I threw that out there.

I’ve never seen anyone shovel so much food in so fast. It’s not gross, though. He just eats like a hearty lumberjack who lives in a mushroom house and does foresty stuff.

“Where’s your non-cat?” I ask as I try to take small bites. I don’t want it to appear like I’m enjoying this, but every single mouthful is delicious, so it’s hard. I guess small bites equal more secret savoring.

“Oh, I fed her breakfast an hour ago. She usually naps all morning, gets pretty wild and hilarious in the afternoon, has a snack, naps again, gets up, and then plays around the house all night.”

“Are skunks nocturnal?” How much wild stays in a wild animal, even one raised by a human mommy before her eyes were opened?

“They are, by nature. But she does sometimes settle down with me for cuddles for a few hours at night.”

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