Page 69 of For Your Consideration

How can I promise the foreseeable future?

And Asher we are not done talking about this!

Noah

We don’t make other plans on Saturday Sutton…because we already have plans.

I rolled my eyes, even though I had a dumb smile on my face. I decided to put my phone down so I could focus on work. These guys could keep it going for a long time and I figured in a day or two they would forget about the invite. I didn’t want to get too attached, just in case.

The morning passed in a blur of answering phones and booking meetings in Quinn’s calendar. I ate a quick lunch at my desk as I filed emails and then got to work on a list of sponsors that Quinn needed to review. One thing I liked about the work here was that I was always busy. The days flew by.

The phone rang for what felt like the millionth time today.

“Maria Knight Memorial Fund, how can I help you?” This phone number wasn’t public and the calls were transferred by main reception, but I always answered the same way.

“Hey, Sutton.”

I sat up straighter, my ears ringing at the voice I recognized all too well. My hands started sweating and my mouth went dry.

“How did you get this number?”

He laughed on the other end of the line, like we were two old friends reconnecting.

“You’ve been hard to track down. How are you? How’s our kid?”

I tightened the grip on my phone. My heart was pounding in my ears and I wanted to snap at him. He was calling her kid because he probably couldn’t remember any details about her.

Like her fucking name.

“How did you get this number, Ben?”

My ex laughed again, the sound grating on every nerve I had.

“I’m glad we were able to connect. It’s been a while. I wanted to catch up.”

“My number hasn’t changed. You could have called my cell.”

“Yeah, well, I’m calling now. I just assumed you changed the number. I saw a picture of you at some charity event and your name was listed in the article as an assistant. Moved up in the world, hey, Sut?”

I hated that nickname.

At least Sophie had been with Asher when that picture was taken and wasn’t in it.

“What do you want?” My fingers were sore from how tightly I was gripping the phone, my stomach in knots.

I hadn’t heard from him since I was three months pregnant. He hadn’t responded to any of my calls or emails, and not once had he reached out since he’d kicked me out. I’d gotten comfortable in the feeling that he had no interest in me or my child.

“I want to meet my…daughter.”

The hesitation made me so angry. He couldn’t even remember what I’d had. So did the way he said it so casually, like it was no big deal.

“What?”

My stomach tightened and I felt nauseous. I always thought it might be a risk that he would want back in, but I had been thinking about him less and less as more time passed.

“Yeah, I want to meet her. I told my new girlfriend about her, and she thinks we need to split custody.”

That word was my worst nightmare. My hands and feet felt like they were going numb.