Page 9 of Playboy Husband

CALLUM

By Wednesday, I figured I wasn’t going to hear from her. Her radio silence since the weekend had to mean that she was chalking up our conversations to a temporary lapse in judgment.

Hell, maybe I should’ve been doing the same, but the truth was that I probably would if I could. I just didn’t know how because her silence was actually bothering me.

Because it was her.

Something about Maisie Morgan had always driven me a little insane. Even back in college, when we’d barely run in the same circles, she’d had this way of catching me off guard and sticking in my head longer than she had any right to.

Years later and apparently nothing had changed.

I was still chewing on that pill that was a little too bitter to swallow when Jameson strode into my office without knocking. As usual.

He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place, which wasn’t entirely untrue. Technically, we all did.

“You look like hell,” he said, eyeing me as he pushed away from the door and crossed the room. “What’s wrong? Is our social media engagement not quite what you wanted it to be or has something else happened?”

I leaned back in my chair and snorted. “Our social media engagement is fine. Better than fine, actually. It always is.”

He dropped into the chair opposite my desk and smirked in that know-it-all, easy way of his. “So what’s got you grinding your teeth like Mom when we’re late for dinner?”

“I might be getting married soon,” I said without really meaning to. I also hadn’t meant to hold it back. Not exactly, anyway, but that wasn’t how I’d planned on breaking the news. “Is that a good enough excuse?”

His eyebrows shot up, but his expression stayed maddeningly calm, like I’d told him I’d switched brands of toothpaste. “What? I didn’t even know you were seriously talking to someone about it.”

“I’m not,” I said flatly. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

He cocked his head, and then he was staring me down with that weirdly intense look in his eyes that he’d absolutely inherited from our mother. “Complicated how?”

I sighed. “I took Harrison’s stupid advice and put out an ad.”

He laughed, the sound loud, sharp, and disbelieving. “You actually did that? I thought you were joking about considering it.”

“Yeah, well, so did I until I went ahead and did it. I figured I might as well give it a try.”

Jameson blinked hard, eyebrows staying high as he stared at me. “You’re serious? You really went ahead and put an ad in the paper for a wife, and someone actually answered it?”

“Someone did,” I confirmed. “Two someones, actually, but the first turned out to be a prankster. The second, however, turned out to be a girl I knew back at Cal Poly.”

He stared back at me, the last of the humor fading from his gaze. “And you want to marry her.”

“I do.” I groaned and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “I mean, if I’m going to be marrying anyone, I wouldn’t mind if it was her.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why her?” he asked pointedly, leaning back and kicking an ankle up to cross it over his knee, letting me know that he didn’t plan on leaving until he’d heard it all. “You must’ve known hundreds of girls back then, so why this one? Is it only because she answered your ad, or is there more to it?”

“As if I was the only one who knew hundreds of girls at college,” I shot back, but then I sighed when he simply shrugged in response. “Sorry, I guess I’m just a little tightly wound.”

He chuckled. “I get it. I was just in your shoes, like, two months ago, remember? Snap at me all you like, but I’m not going anywhere. Clearly, you need someone to talk to about this, so I’ll ask again, why her?”

“Well, for starters, she answered my ad, which makes her my only real choice right now, but it’s not just that. She’s…”

“Different?” he suggested knowingly.

I shrugged. “Yeah, she is. She’s also got a kid.

Apparently, that’s a deal-breaker for most men, which is why she answered the ad, but I just…

” Trailing off again, I roamed through the words rattling around my brain and finally looked back at him.

“I honestly don’t care. In fact, I feel like it would probably make things easier with Mom.

Two daughters-in-law pregnant and she’s still acting like the grandkid quota hasn’t been met yet.

Maisie’s little boy would be a point on my side of the balance sheet. ”

Jameson gave me a long look, the kind that made it clear he was dissecting every word and every pause, but then he shrugged, seeming completely unfazed. “If it shuts Dad up, go for it. Better you than me, though. I’m not sure I’d be able to raise someone else’s kid.”

I snorted. That was Jameson in a nutshell, always cool, always appearing to be nonchalant, and rarely rattled. Sterling carried the weight of being the oldest while Harrison reveled in being the baby, but me? I’d always been the one in the middle.

Technically, Jamie was in the middle too, but I was youngest middle. Somehow, that seemed to have made me the true middle child.

He stretched out in the chair, lacing his hands behind his head like he didn’t have a single care in the world. “Are you ready for that?” he asked. “Stepping in to be someone’s dad?”

“Are you?” I retorted.

He laughed. “No, I’m not, but I have a few months left to prepare for it and I’m seeing them grow. I’m part of the process. You’d just be getting dumped in the deep end.”

“The kid’s out of diapers,” I countered. “I won’t be doing the pajama drill for feeding or changing, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t scream bloody murder in the middle of the night for reasons no one can figure out.”

“Touche.” He grinned. “On the other hand, the kid’s out of diapers and you won’t be doing the pajama drill or comforting him in the middle of the night. There’s something to be said for all that, I’ve heard. You also still haven’t answered me. Are you ready?”

Fuck, he has me there.

It was easy for him, though. For Sterling too. They were golden sons. They carried the most weight and they always faced the pressure first, but that also meant they’d always been the ones in the family’s spotlight.

My whole life, I’d known how the future was laid out. Sterling would inherit the company as CEO, Jameson would become the CFO, and I’d get whatever scraps were left. A trust fund, sure. There was also a tidy inheritance waiting for me—if I played by the rules.

But the legacy? The mansion? The Westwood Estate itself?

Not a chance.

Maybe that was why I’d been such a shithead growing up.

I wasn’t blind. I knew where I ranked in the family pecking order.

If I couldn’t be first in line, then I’d damn well make sure I was loud enough, reckless enough, troublesome enough that they couldn’t just ignore me.

Every suspension from school, every fight, every time I’d pushed too far?

That had been me essentially waving my arms, yelling, look at me, damn it!

It was different for Harrison, too. The baby. Though I didn’t know yet where he was going to fit into the company.

At least I had my corner office now, but I headed up a department I’d built from scratch. Knowing I would never occupy one of the top spots, and that I could run circles around half the marketing executives in this town, I’d convinced Dad to stop outsourcing and give me a chance.

I could close deals in my sleep, but at the end of the day, I still wasn’t Sterling. I wasn’t Jameson. I’d had to build my department and earn my title while they’d been born into theirs.

“No, I don’t think I am ready,” I finally admitted. “I’m honestly not sure anyone is, but that doesn’t make much of a difference, does it?”

I was still getting married. While I would’ve liked it to be for love, one day when I was sure I really was ready for it, this wasn’t that.

Sterling, Jameson, and I had all been pushed into it for appearances’ sake.

For convenience. In my case, however, it was mostly for the inheritance clause in my father’s will.

He’d made it perfectly clear that if I wasn’t married and if I didn’t show some damn stability, everything I would’ve inherited would be secured out of my reach until I eventually met those conditions.

If I played ball though, the payout would be more than enough to allow me to buy a big house and an even bigger boat somewhere tropical. Sterling’s motivation had been the company, his seat as CEO. Jameson’s had been his seat at the big boys’ table as CFO.

It was all cold calculation and yet, underneath it all, the truth scratched at my insides like a feral cat fighting to get out of a bag. What I really wanted, even though I would never admit it out loud, was for my parents to be proud of me.

I wanted them to look at me like someone they respected rather than just the loud-mouthed middle kid they tolerated. Maybe marrying Maisie, of all people, probably wouldn’t fix any of that, but it sure as hell couldn’t hurt.

Besides, she needed help with that kid and he reminded me so damn much of myself that I had a feeling he and I could be good for each other. That didn’t hurt either.

Jameson leaned back, another smirk on his lips.

He inclined his chin at me. “I suppose you’re not wrong.

None of us thought we were ready for marriage, yet here we are.

None of us have any clue what’s in store for us as parents, but we’re all staring that down the barrel too.

I just never would’ve thought you’d beat us to it. ”

Before I could respond, my secretary, Mara, stepped lightly into the office. “Callum, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a Maisie Morgan on line one. She says it’s urgent.”

My head snapped toward her. “Put her through.”

Jameson’s smirk widened. “Is that my new sister?”

I ignored him, picking up the receiver as soon as my landline started ringing. “Hey, Maisie. I won’t lie, this is a pretty big surprise. I didn’t think I’d hear from you.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” she hesitated, her voice clipped and careful, but there was an edge to it. “Can you come meet me tonight during Brody’s hockey practice?”

My pulse hit the ceiling. “Of course, I’ll be there. Is everything okay?”

She hesitated on the other end for a second. “Sure, yeah. Everything is fine. I’ll just, uh, I guess I’ll see you at the rink at six, then.”

She hung up and I frowned, slowly lowering the receiver. Disbelief and a strange, unfamiliar sense of urgency rushed through me. Jameson didn’t miss a beat. Mischief danced in his eyes, and he was clearly entertained by the way I was practically vibrating after that call.

“Wow,” he drawled. “You really like this one, huh? Was everything okay, or does she and the little one already need Daddy’s help?”

I scowled at him. “Shut up. You’re being an asshole.”

He chuckled, leaning back like he was about to watch a firework go off.

“Call me when you’re done with your meeting.

I’m willing to make a wager that it’s going to take less than ten minutes before you completely lose your composure.

You’ll have to let me know after if I have to pay up. How’s fifty sound?”

I knew he meant fifty grand and not fifty dollars, but I ignored him anyway, my thoughts already drifting to what might happen tonight.

Brody would be on the ice. Maisie would be waiting in the stands and I would have to try not to act like a damn fool while simultaneously figuring out why she’d come back to me after all these years.

Because somehow, she had, and there was no way I was taking Jameson’s bet. If she told me within those first ten minutes that her answer was yes, he was right. I would completely lose my composure.