CEO Daddy (Crescent Cove 6.50)

“I did, but unfortunately, I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

That was an understatement. In a little while, I’d be picking up Hannah for our first real baby doctor’s appointment. Well, other than the one where she’d originally gotten the news. She was three and a half months along now, and from my reading—I shifted to make sure my leg was firmly covering the pregnancy book I’d been perusing on breaks—she was behind on her required visits.

Not that I would tell her this, of course. I had no desire to be disinvited from my own child’s doctor’s visit.

We’d been doing well lately, but a smart man knew when not to push his luck. I was also enjoying the perk of regular sex. It had only been a week or so since our carpet picnic, so early days yet on that score, but I wasn’t about to count how long it had been since I’d had even that much regularity in my life.

“Sorry. I know I was supposed to meet up with you earlier, but Connie had an issue with one of the photos in the weekly and all hell broke loose. One of the new guys thought it would be funny to sub a picture of the mayor for a dude dressed up as a hot dog and the caption called him head wiener.” Vincent raked a hand through his unusually shaggy dark hair. He was usually clean-shaven with perfectly coiffed hair, but then again, I used to be that way too.

I rubbed the scruff I hadn’t had time to deal with this morning, due to lingering over coffee with Hannah and Lily. And before that, lingering with Hannah in bed until the baby’s cries had drawn us down the hall.

We had a lot more of that in our future. We were getting the hang of it—well, starting to anyway.

So much new. So many fresh starts.

And I wasn’t responding to Vincent, although to be honest, I found the hot dog thing pretty fucking funny.

I cleared my throat. “That’s unfortunate.”

“It’s ridiculous is what it is, and Connie is going to fire that idiot.” Vincent tucked his hands under his arms. “I figured that’s why you want to meet with me too. So, if you want to fire me, just tell me straight. I don’t need you to soften the blow. What I did was subordination, plain and simple.”

“You didn’t intend for Daly to run to me and squeal like a little piggy.” At Vincent’s shifty expression, I checked my watch. I had a feeling we would be cutting it close for the appoi

ntment. “Or did you?”

“Deep down, yeah, I probably hoped he would. If I thought you would listen to my ideas, I would have approached you. Hell, I should have anyway. It’s none of Daly’s business, and we’re friends.”

“Are we?”

“I thought so.”

“So did I until Daly’s call. While I understand your motivations, I really wish you’d chosen another route.”

“In retrospect, so do I.” He exhaled. “If you intend to let me go, let’s do it and get it over with.”

“Why, so you can run to the Rochester Daily and share your ideas with them instead?” I shook my head. “Sorry, can’t let that happen. I want Wainwright to be a force into the next generation, and you’re the man to take us there.”

Vincent’s brow furrowed. “I am?”

“You are. I want to discuss in depth exactly what that means, and how your role will be changing—and mine, for that matter—but the appointment I can’t miss is my baby’s first doctor’s visit. Well, in utero.”

“In—what?” Vincent looked over his shoulder as if he expected said baby to appear behind him. “Where did you get another baby?”

“It sure wasn’t off eBay.” I stood and grabbed my suit jacket off the back of my chair.

“Wait, now you’re cracking jokes?” He rubbed the side of his face. “Was it really you singing ‘The Gambler’ in the john yesterday? I thought it was you, but then I decided it couldn’t be. You don’t sing.”

“I do now.” My voice was remarkably cheerful considering I was pretty sure my ears were fire-engine red. “I sing not particularly well, I make not funny jokes, and I step back in a company when someone else has all the drive and ambition that I no longer possess. But I have some interesting leads on new things to occupy myself with.” I pulled on my jacket. “What do you know about podcasts?”

“A little bit. You’re actually going to step back? You live and breathe this business, Asher.” Before I could respond, he scraped a hand through his hair. “Look, what I said probably came from a little bitterness. Not your fault, and you’ve never done anything to deserve it. You’ve been the best fucking boss a guy could ask for.” He cleared his throat. “Pardon my French.”

I laughed and bent to pick up my briefcase. “To pay me back, tell me what you know about podcasts while you walk me out.”

“Sure. And uh, Boss, you left that behind.” He pointed at my chair.

“It’ll give the cleaning staff a thrill.” I rounded the desk. “They should especially enjoy the underlined parts.”

Vincent glanced back as I tried to nudge him out the door. “What’s underlined? Is that really a preggo handbook?”