Page 14 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)
I’m angry at his mother. She kept him from me. She never contacted me. All this time, she had this totally awesome smart kid and she didn’t even take care of him. She allowed him to travel on public transportation in New York fucking City by himself for gods’ sake.
But I’m not angry that she dropped him at our door.
I’m not angry that he’s here with me now.
And I’m not angry that Lola recognizes how much he needs us.
“Can I call my mom?”
My chest constricts. “What?”
“You have your mother’s number?” Lola asks. Thank fuck one of us can speak in full sentences.
Murphy nods.
Tone gentle, she leans forward and asks, “Why didn’t you say that before?”
A shrug of a shoulder is all we get.
Lola turns to me, shaking her head.
I’m a second away from catapulting out of my chair and diving into the phone to strangle his mum .
“It takes a long time to get to Bali,” he says. “She gets jet lagged. Figured I’d give her a few days to get settled.”
My stomach bottoms out. This kid. This fucking perfect amazing kid. My son. With a shake of my head, I pull out my phone. Not because she deserves to talk to him, but because he deserves it all. The whole world.
He takes it and gives me the briefest of smiles. “Thanks, Cal. Can I go in the other room?”
I look to Lola because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Do I let him call her alone? Can I say no?
Nodding, she stands. “Sure. You can use my bedroom.”
The two of them disappear, and I’m pretty sure my heart goes with them.
I’m angry. So fucking pissed. How could his mum do this? And how in the bloody hell am I going to make it better?
I’m still in my head when Lola comes back and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“No.” My voice is gruff, unrecognizable. “He rode goddamn public transport home from school. He knows his mum has jet lag. He knows too fucking much for a six-year-old.” I dig the heel of my hand into my eye socket. “He’s six, Lola. I’ve missed everything.”
With a squeeze of my hand, she sits beside me, her eyes filled with understanding. “I hate that you’ve missed so much. But that’s changed now. He has you. And Sully and Brian are here.”
And you , I want to whisper. You promised him you are too. The words almost escape me. The next question clawing its way up my throat. Are you here for me as well?
But I choke it back. I’m not a child and she owes me nothing.
“He’s smart, Lola.” I groan. “He’s bloody brilliant.”
She smiles. “He is.”
My chest deflates. “And I’m not.”
She levels me with a glare, those green eyes piercing into my soul. “You went to Harvard. ”
I slump back in my chair. “But I didn’t have to try. I never cared. It all came easy.”
Lips pressed together, she assesses me for a long moment. “Sounds like it does for him as well. Maybe you’re more alike than you think.”
“The difference is that he does care. He wants to learn and I… I don’t know how to do this.”
She sighs and shifts in her seat. “That admission proves that even if you don’t know how, you’ll figure it out. You care, Cal and that’s half the battle. My parents—” She shakes her head, cutting herself off.
My gut churns. I don’t know what she’ll say but the defeat in her expression sets me on edge. Normally she’s annoyed at me, snarky, strong-willed. At the mere mention of her parents though, she just seems tired.
“They didn’t care about school,” she explains. “I loved it. I constantly wanted to learn more. They just wanted to focus on the fun.”
My throat constricts, making it hard to breathe. She probably thinks that's all I care about too. I’m the fun one. The fun uncle, as T.J. says. I wanted to be the fun dad. What the hell do I know?
She settles her warm hand on mine again.
“You’re both. You care about the fun stuff, but you care about the hard stuff too.
You’re doing okay, Cal. I’m—” Her gorgeous green eyes glisten as they settle on me, enveloping me in a sensation that’s almost as comforting as a real hug.
The kind of hug I wish she’d actually give me. “You’ll be fine.”
Worried she’s on the edge of tears, I clear my throat and shoot for lightening the mood. “Walkie-talkies are fun right?”
She shakes her head, smiling.
I lean forward. “Can you imagine if other things were named like walkie-talkies?”
With a huff, she pulls her hand away. “What?”
“Like that fork.” I nod to the unused utensil beside my plate. “It’d be stabby-grabby. ”
She snorts.
“Your bra.”
Her eyes flare with the kind of annoyance I’m familiar with. And maybe even a little humor.
I give her a wolfish grin. “A breastie-nestie.”
The laugh that falls past her lips is loud and happy, it rips through the space, filling me with an insane type of joy.
She’s still smiling when Murphy appears again.
He sets the phone on the table. “What’s going on?”
I clam up, searching his expression for any hint as to how he’s feeling.
Lola, thankfully, asks the question I should have. “How was the call?”
Murphy shrugs, unbothered. “She didn’t pick up.”
The anger that had been bubbling up inside me instantly returns, this time in a full boil. Just as I think I’ll explode, Lola squeezes my knee.
“Can we go home?” Murphy asks quietly. “I have homework.”
Fuck, I hate this.
I stand, my hands flexing. “I’ll clean up.”
Lola shakes her head. “I’ve got it. Thank you for bringing dinner.”
I nod. It’s all I can manage. Words are too hard right now.
Lola pushes back from the table and heads toward the door, where Murphy is fiddling with his backpack. “Which book did the teacher give you?”
“The first Percy Jackson book. The Lightning Thief , I think.”
“Oh.” She clasps her hands and smiles. “You’ll have to tell me what you think of it. I can’t decide whether Annabeth is my favorite or Grover. They’re both so funny. And the scene with Medusa is definitely the best.”
Murphy’s eyes light up. “You read it?”
With a nod, she holds out her arms. “Can I have a hug?”
Murphy collapses against her. The sight makes my heart squeeze so tight I’m afraid it’ll implode. I clear my throat and survey the kitchen until I’ve got my emotions under control.
When I finally look back, Murphy is heading into the hallway and Lola is standing by the door, holding it open.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She pats my chest as I slip by her. “Don’t have a screamy-dreamy.”
I pull up short and frown at her. “Huh?”
“Sweet dreams, Cal.” She pops up on her toes and kisses my cheek, surprising the shite out of me.
I don’t even bother to fight the smile that tugs at my lips. “ Whatever Lola wants. ”