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Luckily, I have nothing better to do, and I’m all about making my boys smile.
I enter the playroom to the sound of laughter, and it instantly puts a smile on my face. Then I step around the corner and find them laughing at the cartoon coyote dropping a massive anvil on the roadrunner’s head. After the incident this morning, I no longer see the comedy in it.
“How about we go outside and play?” I offer, grabbing the remote and turning the television off.
“How about we play in the pool?” Cale counters.
I look down at Cole’s hand. The child has already peeled the bandage off his finger.
“We’ll have to use the indoor pool,” I tell him, realizing that I once again forgot to grab sunblock.
If we were in Detroit, I’d be able to have one delivered in less than an hour, but out here in the boonies, we don’t allow that type of thing. Getting out of the house and visiting with people is healthy. I’m honestly surprised the citycouncil hasn’t banned delivery drivers, but too many of them are getting their prescriptions filled through Canadian pharmacies for that to happen. At least until Old Man Hinkle’s grandson gets through pharmacology school. Then they’ll take it up without hesitation. But by that point, everyone in town will want to support the local pharmacist anyway.
“Get changed into your swim trunks,” I tell them, and I’m awarded with squeals of delight. “I’ll go change and grab towels.”
I turn to face them before they can scramble from the playroom toward their shared bedroom.
“You wait for me in the living room,” I tell them. “If you go anywhere near the door to the pool, we won’t swim for a week.”
They both frown, a little heartbroken with my warning. I could tell them they wouldn’t swim for ten minutes and it would carry the same disappointment. They have no real concept of time.
“Tell me you understand.”
I get two quick agreements before they run from the room.
I’m stripping out of my clothes on my way to my own room because I know they won’t listen.
I mentally add a lock to my list of things to grab tomorrow, once again feeling like the worst father ever, considering what happened in Detroit a few weeks ago.
Instead of waiting until tomorrow, I decide I’ll let the boys play in the pool for a while, and then we’ll make a trip to the store. I need to stock the fridge anyway. Might as well swing by the hardware store and grab the lock I’ll need.
Chapter 6
Madison
I growl in irritation, the curl I want falling flat as I pull it from my curling iron.
I close my eyes, telling myself not to squeeze them shut unless I want to smear my makeup. I take several deep breaths. I never should’ve agreed to meet Chase at the diner. It doesn’t matter that I controlled the when, and even though I’m getting ready to go, I still haven’t decided if I’ll even show up. Maybe standing him up the way he did me all those years ago would be exactly what he deserves.
Cue core trauma.
Then I’m reminded that he has a job to discuss with me and considering the very low digits included in my bank account balance, I’m really in no position to turn anything down. I hate that it gives him the upper hand even though he doesn’t know it.
If I’m lucky, he’ll offer me a job decorating that massive house he swooped into town and bought. I didn’t even know the Graves Estate was on the market until Mom mentioned that he bought it. Maybe he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.
The estate was the happening place in town when I was younger. It was where every bride wanted to get married. They catered to all sorts of occasions up until the owner fell ill a few years back.
This would be easier if I didn’t feel like I had insight into his life. If the tabloids hadn’t made his breakup with his wife, Emily, very public, I might feel different, but stories about him, Emily, and his best friend and teammate, Cory Jackson, were splattered all over the place for weeks. That whole messy situation was front page news for months, and just because Lindell welcomed him back with open arms doesn’t mean they don’t whisper his name when he turns his back.
Just the other day, I heard Mr. Prichard gossiping like an old hen outside of the post office with Mr. Hinkle. This was right after the pictures that showed up online about his blowup with Cory in the locker room were released. Despitehim standing me up for that date years ago, I felt bad for the guy. The locker room should’ve been a safe place for him to get angry. At least, it should’ve been a place where there wouldn’t be pictures, but it seems that he was betrayed by more than just Cory.
I shake my head, making more of my curls fall flat. I don’t know why I’m even trying to get my hair to do anything more than what it wants to do. The effort never lasts.
I hold my head high as I look in the mirror and tell myself that this is a job interview, and I would try my best to look perfect for any interview. This isn’t forhimspecifically but for the situation.
I pick a sundress that makes me feel pretty because I need the confidence boost it gives me. Rejection has a way of sticking to a person even years and years later. Plus, the man seems to always be at risk of ending up as a cover story for the media, and I’ll be damned if I end up on the cover of some damn tabloid looking like a goblin. There have been numerous times Chase’s wife, Emily, was photographed looking less than perfect, and she was eaten up in comments and repostings. That woman is a literal super model, and they had no mercy on her. I can’t even imagine what they’d say about me. My nose scrunches when I recall that she was even splashed on several magazines when her privacy was invaded as she was sunbathing topless in her own backyard.
I pause I as reach for my purse. Maybe working for him isn’t such a good idea after all.
