Page 29 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)
Lola
Sloane: Since I’m getting T.J. at two why don’t we meet for brunch near you?
I grimace at the message. Sloane and I have met for brunch on Sunday for years, and after this weekend I’m all in. I need to know what happened with her and Sully.
But in Jersey?
I’d much prefer to make the drive to the city. Meet at one of our usual places, where the staff knows us well enough to greet us with our go-to drinks already prepared. We’ll never find that kind of quality or service here.
My phone buzzes again.
Cal: How are you this morning my lovely Lola? I heard a funny thing. Do you know anything about Sloane sleeping over?
My mind goes offline for half a second. The “my” part of that sentence has short-circuited my brain. I shake my head. Before I can think too hard on that, I focus on the other part of his message. Sloane. Shit.
Me: How do you know that?
Cal: How do you know that? Where exactly did she sleep?
Me: I might know something about that. But what have you heard?
Cal: I know something too. Tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I know.
Me: I can’t do that. You tell me.
Cal: I can’t do that.
Me: Oh my God Cal stop being Joey from Friends and just tell me.
Cal: You stop being Rachel and I’ll do just that.
I snort. I’m oddly proud of him for understanding my Friends reference. God, this man is more clever than I’ve ever given him credit for. Though if I tell him that, it’ll only burst his already overinflated ego, so I ignore all of it.
Me: I’m not doing this back and forth. I have to find a brunch place. Sloane is coming to Jersey.
Cal: Oh I saw the perfect spot.
Me: What?
Cal: Yeah. Tops Diner. The sign claims it’s the best diner in the world. Do that one.
Me: Really?
Cal:You won’t know until you try it.
Me: Why are you texting? It’s not a work day. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Cal: Whatever Lola wants.
I slide my thumb over the screen, closing out of the Messages app, but before I can navigate to the browser to look up the diner, the device buzzes again.
Sloane: Leaving now. Let me know where to meet you ASAP.
Dammit. There’s no way I can talk her into meeting in the city now, so I look up Tops Diner. Might as well check out the menu.
Instead, my search populates a slew of TikTok’s and Instagram reels. After watching two I have to give Cal credit. This place looks awesome.
I quickly call for a reservation, then text Sloane the address. An hour later we’re sliding into a booth in a place that gives anywhere in New York a run for its money.
The high ceilings and huge windows make the dining area bright and open. The clean lines and light wood give it a modern feel.
Huh. Who would have thought a place like this existed in the armpit of a state that is New Jersey.
“I’ll take a mimosa,” I tell the server.
“I’ll try the golden patron,” Sloane mutters, her tone a little sharper than usual.
“Going for the hard stuff,” I tease as the server walks away, eager for the story behind her mood. “Ready to tell me what happened Friday night?”
Sloane shakes her head. “You first.”
The giddiness bubbling up inside me goes flat instantly. “Cal and I went to a fundraiser,” I say, waving a hand dismissively, “and had to spend the night in your love suite. You know this.”
Her lips kick up on one side. “So something happened?”
“It’s Cal.” I attempt a scoff but the crack in my voice betrays me.
“That’s not a no.” Sloane puts an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her hand, her long black hair slipping forward over her shoulders. “I want details.”
“I don’t….no details to tell.” I shift on the cushion, unease rolling over me. Cal and I had one night only together. And part of a day, I guess. So I’d rather keep our little lapse in judgment to myself. The last thing I need is to be another Callahan Murphy groupie.
“Sure.” Chuckling, she tucks her dark hair behind her ear. “But considering all the nothing that apparently didn’t happen?—”
I groan.
She cocks her brow, pinning me with a mom look that shuts me up. “It might be time you start looking for a new job. This whole scenario—the four of you working out of Jersey in that shithole—is absurd. Three attorneys sharing one paralegal? That kind of torture should be against the law.”
“A new job?” Pain blooms in my chest. Right in the center.
It’s small, but it flares hot. Yes, I’ve considered it more than once since the reading of Terry’s will.
But Brian was right from the start, I’d never leave the firm.
Or him. Or Terry’s legacy. And now there’s a sinking feeling in my stomach at the idea of leaving Cal.
“Yeah, I can talk to Will. We can find you a place.”
“Not happening.” I shake my head. Even if I did need a new job, there’s no way I’d ever work for the enemy.
“But—”
“Not interested.” I squint at her. “However, I am interested in the details of your Friday night.” I shift the attention back where it should be. On her. “You spent the night at the guys’ place.”
She swallows audibly. “Uh?—”
The waitress appears, setting our drinks in front of us. “Here you go, one mimosa and one golden patron.”
I lean forward, not taking my eyes off my best friend. “Saved by the server.”
The young woman pulls a notepad from her apron. “Ready to order? ”
“You should get the French toast, according to TikTok, it’s amazing.”
“It’s one of our specialties.” The server straightens, beaming.
Sloane nods. “Sold.”
“And for you.”
I order an omelet, ensuring the sides are gluten-free, and when she wanders away, I focus all my attention on Sloane.
“So you spent the night. Where exactly did you stay?” I press. “And before you answer, know I saw a video of you leaving Sully’s room at 4 a.m.”
Her blue eyes widen. “I…I mean nothing happened.”
“Sure.” I smirk. “And how was the nothing?”
With a roll of her eyes, she leans back against the booth. “About as good as yours, I imagine.”
I lift my glass. “To nothing.”
Laughing, she picks up her glass and taps it against mine. “To nothing.”
We leave it at that. Nothing. When in reality, we both know that mixing wine with the Murphy men never leads to nothing.