Page 19 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Lola

“ H ow is it so perfect?”

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to smile at the emerald green dress Benjamine brought up five minutes ago.

I hang it from my closet door, unable to turn away yet. It’s just so pretty.

“He’s a Murphy. They all possess some kind of black magic,” Sloane grumbles from my phone on the nightstand. It’s propped up on the bedside lamp, my best friend’s face filling the screen.

Black magic but good taste. I finger the soft material, twisting the dress closer. Light catches on the crystals at the neckline, making them sparkle against the otherwise deep green fabric.

“Did you give him a photo of your crystal Jimmy Choos? No, I bet he did this all on his own,” Sloane mutters. “He conjured up the perfect thing without any help. Damn them.”

I shuffle over to the phone and give my friend a pointed look. “Instead of pretending you’re upset about my dress, why don’t you tell me what Sully did?”

She sets her giant coffee mug on the granite counter with a little too much force, and a sigh the size of Alaska makes her shoulders slump. “He talked me into letting T.J. stay in Jersey this weekend. And I’m not even sure how. One minute I was saying no, and then boom, the plans were made.”

Ah, yes. It’s another Murphy trait. The ability to talk anyone into just about anything while making them believe it’s their own idea. This I can relate to. “It could be worse, you could be going to Boston with him.”

An almost laugh slips past my friend’s lips.

“Hold on,” I tease. “Did Sloane Murphy just smile?”

“Oh, stop. I smile.”

She used to smile. She used to be the life of the party. For years, she was the sunshine to my black cat. But I haven’t seen that side of her in far too long. Somehow, I’ve become the sunshine half of this friendship, and that’s saying something. I've never been called an optimist. I’m not bubbly.

But with all she’s going through, I’ll give her a break. And I can’t deny that it makes me feel better knowing that T. J. will be around to keep Murphy company while Cal is gone.

“T.J. will be fine with Sully. He may have messed shit up, but you can’t deny how much he loves him,” I remind her as I dig pajamas out of my dresser drawer.

Definitely not black…or red…or?—

I give myself a mental slap. Why am I stressing about this? Cal and I aren’t even sharing a room. No one but me will see them. I grab a set and then turn back to Sloane. “Plus, you’ll have a relaxing weekend to yourself. “

Sloane blinks, her lips tugging down. “That’s what you’re bringing?”

Ball of material held aloft, I give it a second look. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re satin and lace.” Her tone is pure disapproval. “And fancy. Those are the type of pajamas you wear when you know someone else will see them.”

“No. Cal and I aren’t sharing a room. And he will not see them.” I turn to my suitcase, frowning at the green lace bra and matching thong I’ve already packed. It makes sense to wear pretty underwear beneath the dress. Anyone would do that. It’s not like I picked them out for Cal.

Cal would probably like red better anyway.

His eyes would lock in on the red lace, and his breathing would quicken a little. Just like every time we were close. His normally scattered attention would narrow until it was all directed on me. The blue of his irises would darken to almost a navy hue.

My heart rate kicks up at the idea of having Cal's undivided focus. The way his hand would hover over my skin for the span of a breath before he put those warm palms on me and pulled me to him.

“Lo?” The single syllable jars me out of my daydream.

I assess the tan pajamas for a second, then toss them in. “They’re the only type I have. You know that.”

“Only type.” She deadpans. “So you don’t own a single T-shirt?”

Nose scrunched, I adjust the stack of clothing in my suitcase. “I don’t sleep in T-shirts. They’re scratchy and bulky.”

“Yes. Our little princess and the pea.” Her smile is back.

“Says the woman with five pillows and a sound machine.”

The comment distracts her from the pajamas and leads her into a tangent about T. J.’s sound machine and her concerns about the weekend.

Although Sully already got T.J. a sound machine—identical to the one they’ve used since he was an infant—along with a new set of the same sheets he has at home, I’d rather listen to her rant than talk about Cal, so I don’t stop her.

Five minutes later, I’m packed and standing in front of the dress again.

The perfect dress.

How does he know me so well? Has he always paid attention like this? And if so, how have I never noticed? There’s no other explanation. It’s been months since I mentioned my Jimmy Choos. And yet he remembered .

“Since you’ve become enchanted with the dress again, I’ll let you go. But before I do, let me say this…”

With the dress in hand, I spin back to Sloane.

“Those Murphy men are charming, yes. But it’s all talk.”

I frown at her. A week ago, those words could have come straight from my mouth. But now, getting to know Cal, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been wrong about him.

“Don’t drink too much wine or you’ll end up in bed with him. Mark my words.”

I scoff, shaking away the second-guessing. “That will literally never happen.” It can’t. I won’t allow it.

“That’s what we all say.” Sloane takes a fortifying sip from her mug. “Okay, I better pack T.J.’s stuff. Have fun.”

“You too.” I end the call, then focus on slipping the dress into a garment bag. Once it’s zipped up, I dart back to the dresser and yank out a damn T-shirt.

Not that it matters, but whatever.

Cal will be here any minute.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, my phone chimes.

Benjamine: Sending Callahan Murphy up if that’s okay.

Me: Yes, thanks

Benjamine is just as helpful as Stanley was. Is it because Cal is tipping him as well? Probably.

The thought sends a wave of mixed emotions through me.

Growing up, I never experienced that kind of concerned care from another person.

My parents see the world as one big adventure.

Worrying isn’t in their DNA. When I was twenty-two and told them I was moving to New York, they weren’t the least bit apprehensive.

There was no fear regarding their young daughter living alone in the city.

No, the announcement was met with nothing but excitement.

Their style ofparenting meant I was allotted a great deal of freedom. In high school, my friends were all envious. No one understood how difficult it was to not feel cared for like that.

So the idea that Cal has always cared leaves me off-kilter.

“Knockity Knock knock.”

My stomach jumps at the sound of his voice.

The whole way to the door, I remind myself that this is a weekend work event and nothing more. There’s no reason butterflies should be fluttering in my belly.

I pull the door open and find him with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, rocking back on his heels, looking casual and so, so right standing in my door.

“You ready, Lola?” His eyes roam over my wrap dress, his lips tipping up. “Need me to grab your bag?”

All I can do is stare. Why does it feel like he should be here? Like greeting him at the door like this should be a normal thing?

It shouldn’t be. This is a work trip. This is not a date. We’re not even staying together.

When I don’t respond, he sheepishly peers down at his white Oxford and jeans. “What?”

The issue isn’t his clothes. It’s the boyish charm. Because once again, he’s got me feeling off-kilter.

“What do you think about the dress?” He smirks like he’s privy to exactly how I reacted.

No way will I give him the satisfaction of knowing just how perfect it is. I need to put him back where he belongs. Back into the box of annoying. “It’s fine.”

“Fine, huh?” His blue eyes dance. “So the crystals didn’t match your shoes perfectly?”

I sigh, giving in. “How did you do it?”

“I called Jimmy Choo.”

“Oh, so a stylist picked it out to match.” I reach for my suitcase, but before I can get ahold of the handle, he grasps it.

“No, he sent me a photo and I went shopping.” He holds the door for me .

My heart thumps against my breastbone. “When did you have time for that?”

“I finished up with Judge Espadrilles early so I stopped on the way to get the boys.”

I snort. The ridiculous man gave the judge a nickname based on the kind of shoes she always wears.

“One day you’re going to mess up and call her that to her face.” I shake my head.

“After all this time, you still doubt me? I’d never mess up like that.” His grin makes my lips twitch without my permission.

“Anyway, it gave me enough time to find the dress before the boys got out of school. Then I picked it up on my way home. You know New York has the best shopping. There’s nothing that can’t be found there.”

“New York has the best everything.”

He dips his chin. “It does.”

“And we’re stuck here in Jersey.”

“Not tonight, Lola.” His eyes flash. “Tonight we’re going on the whirly-twirly.”

I cough out a laugh. What a name for a plane. I can’t help but smile because even if I don’t want to be, I’m looking forward to the weekend too.