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Lucy: My mom has to help out a family member unexpectedly, so is dropping Katie here. Hope that’s okay?
Aaron: Of course, the guys will love it
Lucy: Thank you. I promise not to make a habit of it
Aaron: I know you won’t
Hmm, not sure what that comment means but I don’t have time to process it because Mom starts calling again. I’m guessing she’s finally realized she has no idea where my office is, nor is she on the approved security list.
“I’ll meet you at the front desk in five,” I say instead of a proper hello and then hang up, rushing off to meet her.
At five p.m. I’m exhausted and so is Katie. I’ve got to admit, despite thinking my mom was crazy for suggesting she’d play quietly, she actually did. My little angel.
“You’ve been amazing today, Katie. How about I pack up my things and then we go and see your favorite person?”
Her little face lights up and she bounces in the seat. “Del?”
I can’t help but laugh. I was actually thinking about Dylan, but her favorite person does change on a regular basis.
“I’m sure I can arrange that.”
The company Delilah is working for just designed their very first children’s clothing line, and Katie loves getting to play dress-up in the samples Del brings home. She often asks to wear the dresses when she plays football so she can “look pretty while playing.”
“Yes!” she cheers as she rises from her seat.
“Wait, can you stay there for ten more minutes while I pack up?”
Her face falls as though ten minutes is a lifetime, but then she flops back down and goes straight back to drawing.
Today could have been a nightmare, but thankfully it wasn’t. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wes
I’mreadytoleavefor the day when my phone buzzes on my desk, making me startle. Like always, I ignore it and continue packing up my things. But after it rings another two times, I give in and answer. “Yep?”
“Son, we need to talk,” my father says, completely ignoring my rudeness. I clench my fist and inwardly groan.What now?
“I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can I call you—”
“Now, Wes.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and sigh because I know exactly why he’s calling. “How much do you need?”
Dad huffs. “I hate doing this. You know I do. But I just don’t have anything to give.”
So it’s not him that needs it? Ever since I was traded to San Francisco and my earnings were released, Dad’s been asking me for money. I used to say no, but when Gran died, I gave in.
“What’s it for, Dad?” I ask, wanting him to admit it.
“Does it matter?”
I huff out a laugh because at the end of the day, he’s right; it doesn’t matter at all. “I hate this.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”Treat me like a son, instead of a bank.
My free hand runs down my face and I sigh. “Okay, Dad. What do you need?”
