Page 13 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Cal

Though I’m focused on the road, keeping my passenger safe, my mind is a mess. I keep going back to the way Sloaney was laughing with Will.

Should I tell my brother?

Is there anything to tell my brother?

Lola would know what to do. Hell, Lola probably has all the details already, since she and Sloane are best friends.

Hm.

I glance in the rearview mirror at Murphy. “Should we take dinner to Lola? She’s all alone in her new flat.”

Murphy frowns, his focus remaining fixed on the passing scenery. “Didn’t she live alone before moving here?”

“Yes, but she hates Jersey,” I explain. She’s probably lonely and miserable without us.

Sure, you prat .

Murphy shrugs. “I could go for pizza.”

“That’s it, lad!”

Wait, does Lola like pizza? Everyone likes pizza, right?

An hour later—traffic really was terrible—we arrive at Lola’s flat and I spot Benjamine.

“Benjamine!”

“Cal! Do you need help with that?” He strides for me, arms outstretched to take the stack of pizza boxes I’m balancing. I wasn’t sure which Lola would prefer, so I got several options. I ordered a salad as a backup in case she hates them all.

“I’ve got it.” I peer at him over the cardboard. “Can you just buzz me up?”

“Is Ms. Caruso expecting you?” he asks as he lifts the phone.

I grin. Even with me, the bloke’s careful. That’s exactly what I was going for. Lola deserves that type of loyalty. “Nope, but call her and let her know I come bearing gifts and Murphy.”

She can’t possibly say no to him.

Me? Possibly. My charm doesn’t work on her the way it does with the rest of the world.

He turns away, and as he speaks softly into the phone, Murphy glances up at me, brows raised, like he’s saying, you really think this will work?

I shrug.

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s got giddiness bubbling up inside me. We just held our first silent conversation.

Head tipped up, I glance at the door so I can hide my grin.

“She said I can buzz you up,” Benjamine says.

I break into a cheeky smile and wink at my little sidekick. “Well, look at that.”

Murphy shakes his head, but as he ducks, I catch just a glimpse of a smile.

When we get off the lift, Lola is waiting for us in the hall.

She’s a proper knockout. The deep coppery hair she typically keeps in a braid is loose, falling around her face in soft waves, her skin which is normally a flawless creamy color, is flushed, and when she spots Murphy, her green eyes glitter.

“How was your first day?”

He responds. I think. The boy’s polite enough to make pleasant conversation.

But I don’t have a clue what he says. I’m too gobsmacked by the woman standing in the doorway.

Her oversized sweats are rolled at the waist and sit low on her trim hips, and her tiny tank top clings to her small breasts.

The soft swells make it difficult to catch my breath.

It's so odd, this pull I feel. Seeing Lola like this—relaxed and not so uptight—is bloody mesmerizing.

The two of them chatter as she holds open her door for me, but I pause rather than follow Murphy inside because I’ve just discovered something else about Lola.

“You have freckles,” I murmur, my voice gruff.

“Huh?” Those gorgeous emerald eyes of hers narrow on me, and when she realizes how close we are, she shuffles away, though she can’t go far, trapped between me and the doorway.

“Freckles.” I gesture at them with my chin because I’ve got five pizza boxes in my arms.

She bows her head, her cheeks going pink. “Oh, yeah, I wasn’t expecting company.”

Fuck, I need to put these boxes down. But the counter is at least twenty steps away, and I want to stay caught in her orbit. “You’re beautiful, Lola. You’re always beautiful, but hell, those freckles.” I shake my head and huff, annoyed that I can’t stop mentioning my newest obsession.

Lola stares at me blankly.

“Sorry, I’ll just put this down. I brought pizza. Figured everyone loves pizza.” I’m rambling. I can’t help it. This close to her, I’ve turned into an absolute twat.

And she’s barely said a word.

Why did I have to bring up her freckles?

Lola clears her throat and gives me a pointed look .

Oh. I’m still standing in the doorway. Wanker. With a sigh, I force myself into the flat.

She closes the door quietly. “I’m—ugh—gluten free.”

Eyes wide, I whip around. “Obviously.” How could she think I’d forget? “All the pizzas are free of gluten. No gluten in this shisouse!”

Shisouse? What the hell are you prattling on about, you arsehole?

“Shisouse?” Murphy mouths to me.

Cringing, I shake my head. I know, kid, I know.

I’ve lost the plot. With a sigh, I shuffle to the counter and drop the stack of boxes. “Figured it’d be healthier for all of us to give up gluten, right Murphy?”

He stares at me for a beat, expression as deadpan as ever, then nods. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we thought.”

“Oh,” Lola stares at the boxes then she looks back at me, green eyes wide. “That’s…oddly sweet. Thank you, Cal.”

An immense wave of pride swells through me, my confidence growing. “Of course. Figured we can share. If you want a bite of mine, you can have it. We’ll be like those dogs in Lady and the Tramp .”

Her frown is back.

Might just start calling her frowny face. Imagining how badly that would go, I bite back a laugh.

“That was pasta.”

I hum, playing it cool. “I’ll get that next time. We could share a meatball.”

With a snort, she takes a step back. “I want nothing to do with your meat, Callahan Murphy.”

Excitement ping-pongs through me. I think Lola Caruso is flirting with me. With a wolfish grin, I open the first pizza box. “Which do you want, Mackster?”

He shakes his head. “That’s a no on the nickname.”

Lola laughs. “Good luck with that. I’ve been begging him to call me Lo for years.”

She steps up to grab a slice and as I slide out of her way, I duck so my lips are close to her ear. “Odd, I don’t remember you begging, and that’s definitely something I wouldn’t forget.”

Her sharp inhale is impossible to miss. Especially when I’m watching her every reaction. I can’t look away.

“ Cal, ” she hisses.

Shrugging, I head to the kitchen table with plates for Murphy and me.

“What do you guys want to drink?” Lola asks.

To my surprise, she holds up a bottle of wine and tilts it back and forth.

It’s a bottle of pinot noir and I note the brand she likes for future Cal. I’ve always known she likes good wine because my father always got that for her whenever he bought her presents, but I never knew which kind. Now that I do, I can take over that task.

“I’ll take water,” Murphy says. “Please,” he adds perfunctorily.

I stand. “Wine sounds good, need help?”

She shakes her head. “I got it.”

Bollocks. There are three of us. I refuse to let her carry over all the drinks on her own. By the time she’s got the wine bottle open, I’ve located the correct cabinet and have two empty wineglasses in one hand and a third regular glass filled with water in the other.

When she notices, she shakes her head but she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

“Did you make friends today?” Lola asks Murphy as she sits across from me.

He shrugs.

“What about your teacher? Was she nice?”

He shrugs again. “She’s getting me a different reading assignment.”

I straighten and zero in on him. “Why? Do you need help? We can get you help.”

I don’t know the first thing about his life. Did his mum read to him? What if he can’t read?

“Because I read the book we’re reading two years ago. ”

Lola eyes me across the table, brows raised, and smiles. “It’s great that she noticed that. So you’re comfortable there?”

Wait? My heart stutters. Is my son a genius? What am I thinking? Of course he is.

“Is that why you were late today?” I ask before he can respond to Lola.

“Yeah.” He nods once, picking up his pizza.

“He was the last one out at the end of the day,” I explain to her. “I’d already been thinking about it, but that just cemented the idea. How about?—”

“Oh God,” Lola hangs her head, like she’s certain I’ll say something ridiculous.

But this is as brilliant as Murphy. “No, hear me out.” I pause for dramatic effect. When I have them waiting with bated breath, I hold my hands up and give them a little shake. “Walkie. Talkies.”

Both Lola and Murphy blink back at me.

“Walkie…talkies?” the little man says slowly.

“Yes. I didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t like it. You’re too young for a phone but not for a walkie-talkie.”

Lola sighs, wiping her face with a napkin. “No, he’s probably too old for one.”

I shake my head. “If I’m not too old for a walkie-talkie, he isn’t.”

Wineglass in hand, she arches a brow. “They’ll never let him use it in school.”

Huh. Why not?

Murphy shrugs, giving me a pitying look. “Probably not. They’re pretty strict.”

“But how will I make sure you’re okay?”

“ Cal .” Rather than chiding, Lola’s voice is soft. The single syllable is accompanied by the strangest action. Under the table, she gently squeezes my knee. Almost as soon as it happens, though, she pulls back, eyes widening.

I peer at her, wanting her to know just how okay the move was. That it was more than okay, and I wish she’d do it again. In fact, I wish she’d leave her hand there. Forever.

But she refuses to look at me.

Murphy tilts his head. “I’m okay, Cal. I used to ride the bus after school. If you want?—”

I shake my head. “I’m picking you up.”

He lifts one shoulder, like it’s nothing. “I’m just saying if you’re ever late or busy?—”

Lola straightens. “We’ll make sure he’s never too busy or late. And if he can’t be there, I’ll be there. Or Sloane, or Sully, or Brian.” Her green eyes are dark, fathomless as she adds, “We’ve got you, okay?”

Murphy gives us a single nod. I don’t blame him. If it were me, I doubt I could muster more. As it is, there’s no way I can speak right now.