Page 28 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Cal

W histling, I stride to the back entrance of the building that Lola hates so much. Nothing could put me in a bad mood today. Not after spending a solid thirty-six hours with Lola. Making her laugh, witnessing the way she let loose.

Touching her. Tasting her. Making her moan. Making her come .

Teaching her. It was the greatest experience of my life. Even if she’s still playing hard to get.

As I push the door open, I’m hit with the sound of Madame Esmeralda’s bracelets jangling. I stop just inside and when she comes into view, I smile. “Good evening, Madame E.”

“Oh, Callahan,” she says as she takes the stairs slowly, “you are just beaming.”

I am. Can’t even deny it. “It’s been a good day.”

She smiles knowingly. “I’d say so. You’ve done better with water. Now it’s time to add fins.”

I roll her words around in my mind, thinking really hard on the comment.

Nope. It makes zero sense when considering the topic of our conversation. “Beg your pardon. ”

With a shake of her head, she rounds the landing and heads down the next set of stairs. “You’ll figure it out.”

“A riddle. I like it.” I slip the key into the lock. Instantly, I’m greeted by a room full of energy.

T.J., Murphy, Brian, and Sully are all engaged in a Ping-Pong match, yelling and roasting each other and bouncing around. The older two are the only ones actually making contact with the ball, but the little lads are having a grand ole time, even if they’re missing left and right.

The scene is enough to make my chest swell. This is my family. The people I care about more than anything.

Seeing the smile on my brother’s face when Murphy finally connects with the ball is the icing on top of a wonderful day. It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen Sully smiling.

“Bollocks!” he shouts as he misses the volley. “You got me!” He points his paddle toward Murphy who is beaming.

“That’s a match,” Brian says.

As I close the door behind me, they all turn, only now noticing my arrival.

“Ah, look who’s finally gracing us with his presence,” Brian teases.

“Uncle Cal!” T.J. squeals, tossing his paddle to the table.

“How was Boston? Did you talk to Henry?” My brother’s smile is gone, the rare, easygoing demeanor replaced with his usual surliness.

I drop my suitcase to the ground and head straight for Murphy. He might not be running to me for a hug but I’m itching to give him one. Worried it would make him uncomfortable though, I give him a light squeeze on the shoulder. “How was last night?”

He tilts his head back and looks me in the eye. “Good.”

That’s all I get from the miniature bloke, but it’s enough.

Confident he’s fine, I crouch and open my arms to T.

J. who barrels for me. “Yes,” I say, looking up at my brother as he lumbers to the kitchen.

“I spoke to Henry. And Beckett and Cortney.” I release T.

J. and stand. “Philips is ill. Have you heard?” I glance at Brian.

“We should make sure his estate is up to date. His nephew Landon might be as surprised as we were with the damn clauses in Philips estate.”

Brian lets out a heavy sigh, spinning his paddle. “Well, at least he won’t have to move to Jersey.”

I chuckle.

“Thought maybe you ran into some trouble with a client when you texted to say you’d be back late,” my brother says over his shoulder as he pulls open the door to the fridge.

T.J. dashes for his Ping-Pong paddle and goads Murphy into another game.

“No.” I wander away from the noise. “Lola isn’t a fan of helicopters so we drove back.”

Brian looks up from his phone. “It’s a four-hour drive. What took you so long?”

There’s no fighting my grin. It may have taken us eight hours to get home, but they were the best eight hours of my life.

I can’t tell them that, though. Lola would twist my bollocks clean off. So I simply mutter “traffic,” then change the conversation. “Madame E gave me a riddle. I need some help.”

Murphy sends the ball to T.J.’s side in what should be an easy return, except T. J. has suddenly lost all interest. He bounces up and down, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I love riddles.”

“Me too. So what has fins and goes in water?”

Murphy tilts his head, frowning. “Seriously?”

With a shake of his head, Brian slips his phone into his pocket. “ No. No fish. No fins. No pets.”

“Ah, a fish!” I clap once, the sound echoing loudly off the walls.

“I want a fish,” T.J. agrees.

Sully nods. “Okay.”

Brian growls, arms crossed. “We don’t need any more living creatures to take care of.”

“Eh.” I wave a dismissive hand. “It’s a fish, how hard can it be?”

“I agree with Cal,” Sully says.

In unison, Brian and I snap our gazes to Sully. He’s now focused on his phone though, smiling as he types away using both thumbs.

With a nod at him, I eye Brian and mouth, “Why’s he smiling?”

“Why’s he agreeing with you?” Brian shakes his head and ducks into his bedroom.

“Should we pick out a fish tonight?” I ask the boys.

“Yeah.” T. J. darts around the Ping-Pong table. “Can we go to the arcade place after?”

I peer over at Sully. “Arcade?”

He shakes his head but he’s smiling again. “Sloane and I took them to the bar across the street for dinner last night. They have one of those old game machines. They spent a small fortune playing while Sloane and I—” He snaps his mouth shut, his eyes bugging out.

Fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve heard him string that many words together in a decade. And the smiling? I’d forgotten what he looks like when he’s not being a broody wanker.

Before I can call him on it, he glowers and grits out, “Food’s terrible.”

“Please, Dad,” T.J. begs, pulling on the leg of his trousers.

Sully’s expression is flat when he looks at him. Even so, he’ll say yes. It’s damn near impossible to say no to his son.

Me? I’m always down for bad food and good games.

That’s how I’ve spent about half my time since I moved to America for University.

And I’ve already eaten dinner, so I’ll stick with chips or an appetizer.

Maybe an ice cream sundae. Oh, that actually sounds really good.

Chips—excuse me; fries—with an ice cream sundae.

“Sounds good to me. Let me get changed, and then we can head out.”

In my room, I take my wallet and phone from my pockets, pausing to scroll through the pictures I stole of Lola today.

I caught her off guard with the first one. She’s squinting at the camera, the Atlantic Ocean rolling behind her from where we stood on the cliff walk. After that, she was a good sport, performing for me when I insisted on snapping photos .

A big, obnoxious smile as she held her hand out at the Breakers, acting as if she owned the mammoth mansion.

Oyster in one hand, blowing a kiss my way from across the table.

And my absolute favorite: when she snagged the phone from my hand while we wandered across the bridge in Mystic and pressed a kiss to my cheek as she took a selfie.

After all that, the woman still insisted that what we shared wouldn’t happen again. She asked for space. So that’s what I’ll give her. For now. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz. Shakespeare would be proud.

Once I’ve changed, I knock on Murphy’s open door and lean on the frame.

He’s tying his shoes which is a skill T.

J. still hasn’t mastered. This kid is so beyond his years in many, many ways.

I wish I could just be proud, because he’s bloody brilliant, but his abilities stem from having to do far too much for himself, and that makes my heart ache painfully.

He straightens, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

I affect a casual expression. “Of course. You just about ready?”

With a nod, he stands. “Is Lola coming?”

The smile that splits my face can’t be avoided. I like hearing her name. But more than that, I like that Murphy likes her. That he’s asking for her.

“No, she’s staying home for the night.”

Lips twisted, he breaks into a thoughtful expression. “You know T.J.’s mom?”

I straighten and slip my hands into my pockets. “Auntie Sloaney?”

Murphy nods. He’s not quite ready to consider the lot of us family. Aunt, uncle, Dad. The titles may be a step too far for him yet. With any luck, we’ll get there in time.

“What about her?”

“She stayed here last night.”

“What?” My heart jumps in my chest.

“Yeah.” He nods a single time. “She put us to bed and then she had breakfast with us this morning.” The blue of his irises deepens as he zeroes in on me. “Why can’t Lola do that?”

Tucked the boys in and stayed for breakfast? No wonder my brother was smiling.

With a grin, I point at Murphy. “You know, you’ve got a point. Why can’t she?”