Guilt lodged in my throat. “Look, I’m working my ass off while she gets to stay home!”
Banks whistled under his breath, and then, “Say that again, only louder so every single parent in the office, mainly the female ones, can use you as target practice. I’ll wait.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not what you think, they’re good kids, they’re—”
“Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.”
“Easy!”
“And there it is.” I could hear him scrambling to his feet and pictured him pacing around his office. “Prepare yourself this morning, Rip, for this day, you go to war.”
“You’re exaggerating. Besides, how do you even know all of this? You’re a bachelor!”
“My sister has seven children. I’ve been to hell and back, it’s hot there, bro, very hot. Know that I do have a few personal days lined up. So if you find yourself in over your head with a need to prove the dear lady friend you refuse to admit you’re attracted to despite the hate that festers between you wrong—give me a call.”
The denial was on my tongue, but I couldn’t get it out, why couldn’t I get it out? “Whatever you say, man.”
“Dude, you need me, more than you realize. All right, off to save the world. Mr. Stick, do send me text updates, preferably with video evidence.”
“Stick?”
“Well, Stick Up Your Ass was just too long to say, you know? Didn’t exactly flow.”
“And Stick does?”
The line went dead right after more laughter on his end. I set my phone down on my dresser and stared into the mirror hanging on the wall above. Damn, I looked exhausted already.
Shaking the negative thoughts from my head, I started to get dressed for battle. For working at home. Damn it, Banks had put me off my game.
And he was exaggerating as per usual.
How hard could taking care of two little kids—one of whom was in school most of the day—really be?
Colby was struggling, sure. But she was just… not lazy, but… not used to following a schedule. Order. Organization. Rules.
These were things I excelled in. Just like I would excel in this new arrangement. It wasn’t that hard. She just needed someone to show her how it was done.
And that someone was me.
She was going to come home to the house sparkling like a motherfucking diamond.
I’d be sitting on the sofa reading to both kids as they cuddled next to me—I’d have a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigar in the other, you know, if I smoked, which I wouldn’t around kids, and she’d take in the roaring fire and clean kitchen and utter the magic words:
You. Were. Right.
Ha, now I really couldn’t wait.
I quickly grabbed a pair of worn jeans that would be comfortable but wash easily, just in case I had a situation with the finger paints, which, as far as I could tell, were Viera’s favorite and also the messiest thing on Earth, then grabbed a black T-shirt and put on my Rolex.
Whistling, I made my way down the stairs as the familiar smell of burning pancakes filled the air.
Ah, home sweet home.
“OK! Uncle Rip is here, kiddos. Auntie Colby’s going to work!” Colby spun around at the sound of my voice. Her hair was pulled back into a neatly coiled braid, showing off her beautiful jawline, and she was wearing a white sundress with yellow heels that accentuated her hips and what the hell was I doing staring at her?
“Uh, um.” I scratched my head. “My friend Banks will be there if you need anything, or you know, you could always”—I gulped and stared at her hips again—“text me or something or whatever.” What the hell was wrong with my voice? “Coffee,” I muttered to myself. “I just need coffee.”
“Oh, we’re out!” Colby shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe make a list of what we need at the grocery store, you know, since you love organizing so much!”