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“Mmm,” I say quietly.
“What about you? Any plans for settling down and having kids? We aren’t getting any younger.”
If only he knew I already had one.
“I’m not sure,” I say. And I mean it. I don’t have any idea if I’ll be able to be a part of Josie’s life. Right now, it’s not looking good.
“If I do have kids, I’m going to try like hell to not screw them up,” I say, thinking of Josie’s heart-shaped face and mocha eyes peering at me through dark lashes.
“Amen,” says Brock with a nod and a smile.
I wonder if this little bonding we are having is going to help me close the deal. Maybe Jessica letting him in my office early helped. It gave him a chance to look at the photos on my shelf, striking up this very conversation.
“You’re a good man,” says Brock. “I know what everyone says about you. The whole Shark thing, but I can see you’re not just a man of business. Which is why I want to make this deal with you.”
I try not to let the smile I’m holding back come through my poker face.
“I know we can do great things together,” I say, holding out my hand.
He takes it and shakes it firmly. “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers and have them sent over next week. Then we can hammer out the finer details.”
“I look forward to it.”
Brock nods and stands from his chair, taking another look around my office.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sure your father is proud of you. Whether he’s looking down at you…”
“Or up.” I smirk.
“Either way. You’ve built yourself an empire. I look forward to being a part of it.”
He opens the door and slips outside, closing it behind him. When I’m sure he’s really gone, I throw my fist up in the air in silent celebration. It was not at all the meeting I had expected or planned for, but it had gone better than I imagined.
Now, if only I can have that smooth of a conversation with Erica. I know I’m dreaming. Luck isn’tthatgood of a friend to me, but at least my spirits are lifted temporarily. At least I have a pretty big distraction to try and get my mind off of my personal life.
I pick up my phone and call my mother, the one person I always call to celebrate my wins, big or small.
“Buenas dias, mi amor,” she answers the phone warmly.
“How are you, Mama?”
“Just fine. I’m heading to bridge club soon.”
“Oh right, it’s Thursday,” I say, looking at the calendar on my desk that coincides with my mother’s.
“I have a little time to talk though.”
“Great. I just closed a big deal.”
“It’s barely 10 a.m. and you’re already doing so well, Marco. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mama. Can we celebrate tonight? Dinner?”
“Only if it’s at our spot.” I hear her smile through the phone.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” I say before hanging up.
Later, my mother and I sit at a corner table after placing our order for tamales and horchata. I would have loved to treat her to the new Michelin Star restaurant, but I know my mother isn’t into those things. She likes comfortability. Simple things. She reminds me of Erica in that way.