Then I could be certain my grandfather would be proud of me.
Right now? He would not. I wasn’t doing a good enough job for the business, and I certainly wasn’t nailing my personal life. I had two children now—for all intents and purposes—and their mother didn’t think much of me at the moment. Not that I entirely faulted her there.
Wait, she was our baby’s mother. Not theirs. I was paying her for a service. We weren’t some happy little family. How could we be, when all it seemed we knew how to do was hurt each other?
“I didn’t spread rumors all over town,” Vincent continued, as if he didn’t realize the barrage of thoughts he’d caused. “I just talked to Daly. My mistake. I thought he was trustworthy.”
“No one is trustworthy,” I said before clicking off. Then I just stared at the phone in my hand.
Vincent and I were supposed to do the overnight trip together in a couple of days. That gave me enough time to ready a response—either to take his suggestions under advisement, truly hear them out and give them a chance, or to cut my losses.
And let my right hand man go.
Eighteen
I found a double-padded play mat for our little Houdini. I left it just outside my office. Maybe we can put it together when I get back. Lily is determined to give me gray hair, I’m sure of it. I swear, I checked on the video app nine times last night.
I left money for groceries and whatever else you need since it’s shopping day. You have my numbers if you need anything while I’m out of town.
Maybe a cooking lesson when I get back tomorrow. You can show me how you make vegetables actually taste delicious.
Asher
I propped my chin on my hand and read our little community notebook again. He’d been so damn distracted the last few days. Gruff and almost curt, but here, on paper, we worked so well. I got to see some of the real Asher I remembered from our first night together.
Sometimes they were bullet points about some parenting article he read, sometimes it was a funny thing Lily did during the night.
I flipped back a few pages and smoothed my hand down his neat, slashy handwriting that was a mix of block letters and cursive. Here, there was the softness I remembered.
Dangerous thoughts, girl.
I wasn’t even sure which Asher was the real one. We just didn’t know each other enough. Obviously, we had done well enough that we’d made a human, but other than that, not so much.
Not to mention the fan of actual hundred-dollar bills he’d left me.
Plural.
Like he’d leave for his mistress.
Okay, not mistress. There would need to be sex still going on for that to be a factor, but still. It seemed a little excessive for the three of us for food for a week. It wasn’t as if I cooked with truffle oil, for God’s sake. And didn’t he know me? I was the original budget girl. I could make a dollar stretch.
Well, ten dollars. Hello inflation.
Then again, my salary was enough to buy groceries and rent a house. Weekly.
I hadn’t even wanted to discuss money with him because of the pregnancy, but I had to be able to take Lily to any doctor’s appointments that came up.
I barely read the agreement we’d finally signed, salary included. Everything was just so damn overwhelming. Cooking was easier to deal with.
I pulled over my iPad and flicked through the series of recipes I’d been putting together. So far, I’d come up with twenty-seven recipes for the winter season for my new company. In fact, I had four slow cookers simmering as well as two brand new Instant Pots I’d bought with my first paycheck.
I’d put extra money on each of my sisters’ food accounts at college and I still had a tidy stack of money sitting in my bank. More money than I’d seen in a damn long time. I should feel a little guilty for how much, but seeing how much he flashed around for groceries…
Well, the guilt thing was definitely not a factor anymore.
I was in the middle of updating my website for Hannah’s Helping Hand Boxes when a text popped up on my screen.
“Finally, an adult conversation,” I muttered aloud.