Fifteen
Ford
“We’ll take a round of tequila,” Dominick said as the waitress approached our table. “Actually, make that two rounds.”
“Starting tonight with a punch,” Jenner said to him. “I like it.”
“My cousins don’t fuck around when it comes to drinking—that’s what I like,” Camden said.
Hannah’s twin was in town for the week, and it was good as hell to see him.
Brett pounded fists with Camden and then clasped Dominick’s shoulder. “Your brother’s got a reason to celebrate. We just closed the highest-grossing deal in Dalton family history.”
“Fuck yes!” I clapped.
The table erupted in applause.
While sitting next to Dominick, I punched his arm, clamping my fingers around the same place I’d hit. “Proud of you, brother.” I then reached around Dominick to shake Brett’s hand. “You too, Brett.” As he released my grip, I continued, “I love how you guys are fucking killing it.”
Dominick had texted Jenner and me earlier, telling us about the deal and that it involved Brett’s fiancée, James, so I added, “James is taking over Hollywood. There isn’t anyone more deserving. It’s impressive to watch this all go down and the work you guys have done behind the scenes.”
“My girl’s kicking ass,” Brett said. “Now, it’s up to you, Ford, to shelter that money from the tax gods, so it doesn’t all go to Uncle Sam.”
I laughed.
James had become one of my largest clients. As her earnings increased, so did the workload.
“You know I’m on it,” I told him.
“For what she’s paying you, you’d better be.” He clinked his glass against mine.
“Listen,” I said to him, “if you two start having some kids, it’ll make things a lot easier on me. I can set up—”
“You’re preaching to the choir, my man.” Brett took a drink of his scotch. “I’ve told her this countless times. I’m ready. I’m just waiting on her.”
James was young. At the peak of her career.
I understood why she wanted to wait.
“Maybe, during your next meeting, you can talk to her about pulling the goalie,” Brett said. “Tell her it’s for tax purposes.”
I chuckled. “Now, that’s a topic I’m staying far away from.”
“I know a topic I’m going to harp on tonight,” Declan said.
I groaned and nursed my drink. “If it’s Hannah, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Neither do I,” Camden growled.
“Hannah? Who the hell wants to talk about Hannah? That girl is a fucking mess.” He leaned far away from Camden in case Hannah’s brother decided to give him a right hook. “Who I want to talk about is Sydney, your goddamn nanny.”
“I second this,” Jenner said, raising his glass.
“Fuck yeah, I third this,” Dominick said.
“Sorry, buddy,” Brett said, clinking his tumbler against all the others’. “I’m with them.”
“Same,” Camden said.
“Jesus.” I ran my hand through my hair, keeping my fingers locked on my head to dull the throbbing in my skull. A throb that had started the moment Sydney and I had hooked up in my kitchen and had gotten progressively worse. “You guys need to lay off.”
“You mean to tell me you’re not banging the nanny yet?” Declan asked.
“No”—I swallowed—“I’m not.”
And I was angry as hell about it.
Angry the entire time I had been traveling—her texts, when we FaceTimed, nothing but a fucking tease.
Angry when I’d returned home and she wasn’t running into my arms.
Angry when I’d watched her cuddle Everly as she recovered from an ear infection because I wasn’t on the other side of Sydney, my face on her chest, like my daughter’s was.
But all of that was my fault.