Sophie grips my shoulder and squeezes. “Every stage of parenting is different. You’re just going through a rough patch right now.”
I study her, both concerned that she doesn’t understand just how acutely Luca loathes me and horrified by how bad my relationship with our son has gotten.
For a moment, I consider telling her about Evangeline.
About Luca’s cheating and how he left her with all that debt. About the disrespect and disdain he’s clinging to toward a woman he dated for more than two years.
But so much has changed so quickly, and after our disaster meeting earlier this week, I think better of airing my son’s dirty laundry to his mother. He’s twenty-three years old, after all. He’s a grown man.
I’m equal parts ashamed of his actions and embarrassed by my reaction to Evangeline. I’ve taken it upon myself to course correct where Luca messed up, but I may have gone a bit overboard. So far, I’ve hired her and cooked for her. I’ve had my head chef add her to the VIP meal list. And I’ve obsessively looked for her around the paddock every chance I’ve had.
Shaking my head, I refocus. “What if it’s not just a rough patch?” I whisper, pain bleeding in and distracting me from daydreaming about Evangeline.
“It is,” Sophie assures me.
But what if it’s not? I’ve never been good at prioritizing relationships over work. I’m finally living my dream, and my son resents me for it.
My next words come out soft and timid. “I chose this life over a life with you.”
She hums thoughtfully, then sighs. “You chose what was best for you, and I chose what was best for me. We were never going to work in the long run,” she reminds me. “We would have been miserable; we would have resented each other if we’d stayed together. And I’m grateful for the relationship we have now.”
Her assurance gives me little comfort.
Surely noting my scowl, she goes on. “It’s not fair to who you were then or the man you are now to carry guilt from our split into this rough patch with our son. We were kids. We did our best, and for the most part, we did a damn good job.”
“Mommy.” Ollie jumps up, shaking that little finger at us again. “You can’t say the damn word if Ric can’t say the fuck word.”
“Oh my god.” Sophie buries her face in both hands as her shoulders shake in silent laughter. “Rodger is going to kill me.”
I roll my chair back, waving Ollie over. He eagerly crosses the room and climbs into my lap.
I give his hair a little ruffle, noting how much his eyes and nose look like Luca’s when he was a kid. “Tell ya what, Ollie boy. I’ll buy you anything you want if you don’t repeat those words.”
It’s a solid offer. But it does nothing to focus the small child.
Leaning precariously far forward, he grabs the bright red clicker fidget off my desk. “Oh. Can I have dis?”
With a sharp inhale, I snatch back the gift Evangeline presented me with earlier.
“Anything but that,” I promise.
Frowning, Sophie peers down at the item in my hand. “What is it?”
“It’s…” I trail off. Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to answer this question? I can’t exactly tell my ex that this is a gift from our son’s ex-girlfriend—a woman I can’t get out of my head.
“It’s a lucky charm. From a friend.”
“It looks like a toy,” Ollie says.
“It’s a fidget,” I correct. “Which is a really helpful tool for grown-ups,” I add, remembering Evangeline’s explanation.
I kept it in my pocket through qualis, reaching for it every time our guys started a hot lap. I quickly found that clicking the button was a soothing exercise that kept my mind focused.
Sophie crosses my office and scoops Lily into her arms. “I’ll buy you one next time we’re at the shops, love,” she assures Ollie. “Come clean up your stickers and say bye to Ric. We’re going to go find your big brother.”
CHAPTER 16
ALARIC
