Page 6 of Accidental Dad’s Best Friend (Unintentionally Yours #7)

A new comment pops up almost immediately and I have to admit, it catches me a bit off guard.

AvsMan77: What a shame. You’re a great writer. You deserve more spotlight.

Fuckboy. Definitely not a troll, just someone who liked my photo on the main page and decided he needed a new way to get his rocks off.

IzzyWritestheTruth: I am perfectly happy with my blog and its followers but thank you. I’ll pass on whatever it is you’re offering. Good day.

A couple minutes pass and I think I might have finally got him.

One of my better takeaways from the journalism industry was the ability to shut people like this down.

Some people have nothing better to do than harass people on the internet.

But on my perfect rainy day, I’m not dealing with it. He’s not going to ruin my mood.

“Mommy, look at this,” Jaxon runs up to me.

“What did you make?” I smile and brush his dark brown hair from his face. His glasses, which are almost too big for his small face, slide down the bridge of his nose and I take them off to clean the smudges from the lenses.

“It’s a Play-Doh donut. A Play-Donut!” He giggles.

“Oh my goodness it looks delicious! Can I eat it?”

“No!” Jaxon giggles again. “It’s not real, mommy.”

“Oh silly me. You’re right.”

My computer buzzes and I glance back at the screen.

Then my heart slams into my ribcage. It might have stopped beating all together, I don’t know.

“Mommy? Mommy can we?”

“Can we what baby?” I ask as I read the comment multiple times to make sure I’m not seeing things.

“Get real donuts.”

“In the morning, Jax.” I say breathily.

“The morning? But that’s so far away.”

I turn my attention back to Jaxon and smile. “We can have them in the morning for breakfast. Okay? We’ll go to the bakery first thing and pick out a whole box of them.”

“A whole box of donuts for breakfast? Yes! I’m going to make a bunch of Play-Donuts to show you the flavors I want.”

“You do that, baby.” I say, patting him on the back as he skips off to the table.

AvsMan77: Damn, Izzy-not-Isabelle. You have not changed.

I have always told people I hate when they call me Isabelle.

Pretty much everyone I’ve ever met has learned that upfront.

But only one person has ever given me shit for it.

Only one person has continued to call me Isabelle even when I made it very clear that’s not my name.

Only one person has ever called me Izzy-not-Isabelle.

I pull out my phone and go to my contacts. His name is still saved. Even though I got a new phone with a new number, my contacts transferred. And while I never planned to contact him for any reason, I also never bothered to erase him either.

The problem is, even if I did erase his number, I would still know it. I can’t forget it.

For the past five years, no matter how much I’ve wanted to, I can’t forget Ethan Savage.

I don’t want to talk to him but right now, I don’t think I have a choice. So I click on his name and shoot a text before I can change my mind.

Izzy- What do you want?

My skin feels like I’ve been electrocuted and the residual shock waves are still buzzing over my skin as I wait for a response. But I don’t have to wait long. Hardly a minute passes before Ethan texts me back.

Ethan- Hello Izzy. It’s been a while.

Izzy- It has. Now what do you want?

Ethan- Your blog is good. Better than good, actually.

Izzy- Thanks. Why are you reading it?

I know I’m kind of being a bitch but all of this is inappropriate. But I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know where to start. All I know is I am not ready for him to find out about Jaxon and I don’t know if I ever will be.

Ethan- Because I need a writer.

I snort out a laugh at that.

Izzy- Are you offering me a “job”?

Ethan- Why the quotes?

Izzy- Because the last time you offered me a pity job it was with other intentions.

Ethan- Okay, first of all Isabelle, there were no intentions. The job I was offering you wasn’t out of pity, it was because you are a phenomenal writer. And second, everything else that happened was your doing too.

Izzy- I’m not working for you. And subscribers are paying readers, you know that right?

Ethan- And I paid. Maybe you should check your inbox. I’ll wait.

I roll my eyes. The fact he thinks he can tell me what to do is infuriating. The fact he is reading my blog and offering me a job that no doubt has a motive behind it is infuriating. The fact that he thinks he can come on here and get away with just paying—holy shit.

“Holy shit.”

“That’s a bad word!” Jaxon reminds me.

“Sorry baby…” I trail off before muttering a string of holy shits under my breath.

Because Ethan paid alright. But he didn’t just pay the weekly $7. He didn’t even just pay for a quarterly subscription or even a year. He’s the first person to hit the OTHER button on payment. And the amount is…infuriating.

Ethan- I feel like there should be elevator music playing…

Izzy- What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!

Ethan- …maybe the Jeopardy! theme song…

Izzy- Who do you think you are sending that kind of money?

Ethan- I think you meant thank you’ for liking my blog enough to send me five grand. We’ll call in the lifetime subscription. A steal if you think about it.

At this point I am seeing red and I am done. I press the call button and march down the hall, closing the bathroom door behind me.

“Hello Isabelle.” Ethan’s voice fills the phone and it fills me with a thousand mixed feelings.

“Take the money back. I don’t need charity.”

“It’s not charity.”

“Then what is it?” I snap. I’m trying to keep my voice down but it’s kind of hard considering I want to climb through the phone and strangle the man for just showing up in my life again.

“It’s just a couple grand. It’s not a big deal. And if you’re working at a clothing store and blogging on the side, that tells me you need it.”

“Are you…are you stalking me?”

“Of course not. But I did look you up,” he says casually, which only makes me angrier.

“Why? Did my dad ask you to?” I spit out.

“No!” Ethan barks. “Your dad doesn’t know anything about this. I have a job offer for you. A real job.”

“Find someone else,” I cut him off. I’m ready to hang up. But Ethan keeps talking.

“No one else can do this job, Izzy. Not like you can.”

I bite my lips and pace back and forth in the small bathroom that Jaxon and I share.

And as I look around at the dinosaur shower curtain and the light up toothbrush and the bathtub full of toys I think about what Ethan is offering.

A journalism job, no matter what kind of writing it is, would pay enough to get us out of here.

To get Jax and I our own place and me my own bathroom.

No more dinosaurs and rubber ducks and bubblegum toothpaste.

I bite the bullet and close the toilet seat and sit down. “I’m listening.”