Page 96 of Turning Back

“Did you get laid last night?”

“What?” I laugh. “Nope. Not even close. I spent the whole evening alone with Adley while Quin and Rochelle went on a date.”

“So that’s why you’re like this today.”

When I look up at her again, she’s got a crooked smile on her face. A knowing smile. “Like what today?”

“You’re glowing, Bric.”

I let out an actual guffaw at that. People turn to stare at us.

“You lost your baby virginity. Oh,” Chella says, placing her hand over her heart. “They grow up so fast.” She pretends to be overwhelmed with emotion, dabbing at fake tears in her eyes.

“Ha ha,” I say. “It was fun. She loves me, Chella. Like digs me, man. She laughs at all my jokes. She never whines when I change her diaper. She lets me play blocks with her and she enjoyed my version of The Princess and the Pea at bedtime. God, I wish I had known more about decorating nurseries before I bought all that stuff. I think I might need to redecorate. Don’t you think she needs a princess room?” Chella stares at me, her mouth half-open, like she was about to say something, then forgot what it was. “A Princess and the Pea room?” I clarify.

She still stares.

“What?” I ask.

“You…” she says. “You love kids.”

“No,” I huff. “I love my kid. Other people’s kids can fuck off.”

“No,” Chella counters. “You were a great Santa last year. You rocked it. I think you have the dad gene, Bric.”

I scratch my arm with a pen. “What’s that?”

“You’re a natural father. You have all the instincts.”

“Hmmm.” I consider this. “Well, I am pretty good at spooning those sweet potatoes into her moving mouth. I almost never get it in her eyeball.”

Chella smiles. “I might love you even more right now.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Elias Bricman, you will never cease to surprise me.”

I shrug. “Just my natural charm, I guess.”

“You guess? Well, I’d bet a million dollars—like I’d put up a million of my own dollars—if I could ask ten women from the Club if they think your list of qualifications includes the words ‘family man,’ if one of them—just one—said yes, I’d give that money to your favorite charity. What do you say?”

“What’s your point?” I ask.

“My point is, those words do describe you, Bric. But you’re so busy showing the world that you’re always in control, they think you’re nothing but a selfish asshole.”

“Nobody thinks that.” I laugh. “I give away billions of dollars a year.”

“Your company gives away billions of dollars a year. Elias Bricman gives away nothing.”

I think about this for a second. “I make personal donations. I think I probably make a lot—”

“I’m not talking about money, you oaf.” She’s shaking her head at me again. Like I’m ridiculous. “I’m talking about love.”

“I love people. I love you,” I say, winking at her.

“And Rochelle,” she says.

“Yeah, so?”

“And Adley. And Quin. And Smith.”

“There you go. That’s five fucking people right off the bat. Plus, I have a huge family. Seven brothers and four sisters. And like a bazillion cousins. I love all of them.”