Page 9 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Lola

“ I ’m well aware of how bad this situation is, babe. Trust me. I’m the one who’s apartment hunting in Jersey.” Words I never thought I’d say. Words I wish I never had to say, honestly.

“Stop being dramatic. Jersey is full of nice places. The view along the river alone is enough to have most people begging to be there.” Sloane sighs.

“Now that office and the apartment? They’re another story.

I cannot believe Sully waited a month to tell me about this.

” Her irritation is palpable, even through the phone.

Honestly, I’m tired of ranting about that damn office, so I change the subject.

“How’d he take the news about you working with Will?”

When she doesn’t respond, I’m sure the line has disconnected. I pull the device away from my ear to check, but her name is still on the screen.

God. I want to shake her and Sully.

I’ve witnessed just how hard the last few years have been on Sloane. I get it. Still, it’s hard to see the two of them giving up like this.

“Right.” I sigh. “Look, I should go. Brian will be here any second. ”

“Find a place with a good view, a deep tub, and a walk-in closet. Bonus if it costs the Murphy brothers a small fortune.”

I giggle. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

I’ve ended the call and am just tucking my phone into my purse when it vibrates, signaling an incoming text.

Brian: We’re having a small issue at the office. Well, a lot of small issues.

I grimace. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Me: What’s wrong?

Brian: You don’t want to know. But Cal and Murphy are on their way to you. And I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Me: Great. I’m on babysitting duty.

Brian: Murphy’s easy.

Me: I was talking about Cal.

Without waiting for a response, I shove the phone into my purse.

“Loo-laa.”

At the sound of the singsong voice, my hackles rise. I swear the man exists to annoy me.

I take a deep breath, searching for a modicum of patience. There’s got to be a little left for him deep in my soul. When I come up empty, I spin, ready to tell Cal to go away. But the outfit stops me short.

He and Murphy are wearing matching navy sweat suits and bright red Nike’s. Blinking, I focus on the bold red letters on Cal’s chest. Big guy. With a scoff, I drag my attention over to Murphy. Little guy.

“Big guy.” Cal taps his head. “Little guy.” He taps Murphy. “See.” He beams, his chest puffed out. “Matchy matchy. Father and sonish right. Son .”

He gives the little guy a wink.

Before Murphy can respond—not that he looks eager to, Cal says, “Sssssooooonnn.” The word is long and drawn out, his voice low, like he’s saying some kind of odd chant. “Ssoonn.”

Beside him, Murphy has managed a straight face. This kid has talent, I’ll give him that.

“I think he meditates,” he explains, his expression still flat.

“No, it’s just a fun word,” Cal explains. “Try it.” He waves a hand at me like I’m going to join his chant. “Sssooonnn.”

“Seriously.” I fist my hands on my hips. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing Lola.”

The name makes me cringe.

“In fact,” he says, his tone much lighter now, “pretty soon you’ll realize I’m your favorite person.” He steps up beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders.

I duck, brushing him off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh but Lola you love when I’m close.”

Irritation bubbles to life in my chest. “I love when you’re close to leaving me.”

A tiny laugh escapes Murphy, but he quickly coughs to hide the sound.

“Come on.” I sigh. I’m stuck with Cal. Might as well get on with it.

And maybe it’ll help to focus on the silver lining here. Cal won’t care how much these apartments cost. He probably won’t even pay attention. With any luck, he and Murphy will entertain each other while I tour them.

From the outside, the building had promise. But despite the pictures I looked at online that made the lobby appear modest but not too small, there’s nothing but a tiny hallway with an elevator bank. That’s it. There isn’t even enough space for grocery drop-off. That will be annoying.

“You must be Miss Caruso.” A bubbly blonde with a high ponytail and deep scoop neck steps out of an open door on the right and scurries over. “I’m Christy, with a C.”

It takes effort to keep from rolling my eyes as I shake her hand.

“Call me Lo.”

With a polite nod, she turns her attention to the boys behind me.

Her smile turns downright radiant as she takes in Cal.

His brown hair is perfectly mussed, his blue eyes popping in contrast to the navy hoodie.

His very broad chest strains against the cotton fabric in a way that should be ridiculous, but on him, isn’t.

The interest in her eyes is annoying. Great. I can already envision how this will play out. She’ll only speak to him, and he won’t care about the damn apartment. I’ll get no questions answered.

I cross my arms, irritation making me prickly. But when I register that Cal, who normally loves a good set of boobs, is looking anywhere but at her, I deflate. What the hell? Christy with a C is his perfect type, yet it’s as if he hasn’t noticed her.

“Where are the other people?” His forehead creases with what I swear is concern as he finally looks Christy’s way. Though quickly that concern becomes annoyance, leaving me absolutely dumbfounded.

“ Other? ” She tilts her head. “Just me today.” Her smile becomes a little brittle. Forced. “Most days. It’s either me or Dana.”

“No.” Cal steps back shaking his head. “No, we’re leaving.” He snatches Murphy’s hand and tugs him to the door. “Come on, Lola. We aren’t looking here.”

Murphy glances over his shoulder, lips turned down, and shrugs.

Christy scoffs. “What?”

Nerves skitter through me. I can’t explain Cal’s reaction. I’m just as baffled by it.

“I’m sorry. It seems nice. I don’t know what the issue is,” I blurt as I dart out of the building behind them. “What the hell was that?” I ask the second I’m on the curb next to him.

My choices in Jersey are limited, so pissing off building managers seems like a bad idea.

“Did you sleep with her?”

He rears back like I’ve hit him. “What?”

Teeth gritted, I cross my arms. “Did you and Christy have a bad date or something?”

“Who?” He blinks in genuine confusion.

I can’t help but huff. Seriously? “Christy with a C, the big-breasted blonde we just met.”

“No.” Glowering, he points down at Murphy. “Little ears.”

Murphy tips his head back, his dark hair falling back from his forehead. “I’ve heard way worse than that.”

I sigh. “Cal, come on, can we please go back in and see the apartment?”

He shakes his head almost violently. “That’s not the right place for you.”

The irritation that bloomed when he arrived grows until I feel as though my chest will burst. “How do you even know that?”

“Because there’s no doorman.” His tone is neutral, soothing, almost. I hate it.

“Like I was just telling Murphy, my father was adamant that Sully and I understand the importance of taking care of the people in our lives. When we can’t be there, we make sure they’re surrounded by other people who have their best interests in mind.

” He roughs a hand through his hair. “When you moved into your flat in New York, Dad asked me to tip your doorman.”

Confusion threads its way through me, cutting through the annoyance. “What?”

“Tip him to help you.” He releases Murphy, and with his hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels.

It’s a familiar move. One I’ve seen him make a thousand times.

“To ensure that he’d always have your groceries sent up to your flat, or help out if your car didn’t start or step in if some ass—” He darts a look at his son, his words dying.

“If some, uh,” he stutters. “Some jerk was bugging you.”

For years, Stanley had been my doorman, and he was incredible. He never once forgot my name, and he complimented my outfits just about every morning. He always opened the door for me, and my packages always made it to my apartment without a stop in the mailroom. I just figured he was efficient.

“How often did you tip him?”

“I go by every week.” He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “We need to find a building with a Stanley. Someone needs to watch out for you when we can’t.”

His words are matter of fact. Straightforward. But the idea of him worrying about me all these years resonates within me in a strange way.

“Okay?” he asks, brows arched.

I can’t do anything but nod. My chest is suddenly full of a myriad of uncomfortable feelings, making it impossible to speak. It's like my heart kind of tripped on itself.

Cal smiles, blissfully unaware that I’m having a weird moment of like . Could it be that I almost appreciate Cal at this moment?

He and Murphy take off down the block, but I’m rooted to the spot, staring at their backs.

“Come on, Lola,” Cal says over his shoulder, his hand still clutched around Murphy’s.

That phrase, that name, is enough to shake me from my stupor. Spine straightened, I stride down the sidewalk to catch up with them. As I get closer, I fight the urge to grind my teeth.

The annoying man I don’t like is back. That’s much better.This Cal I handle just fine.

Two apartments later, I’m almost smiling at the view of New York across the Hudson.

“This is it,” Cal announces behind me. “Let’s sign the papers.”

I turn, ready to remind him that this is my lease and my choice.

Before I can, he goes on, “The wine rack is perfect for your collection, and you'll need at least one glass of wine after a day with me. Plus, it has a closet with a built-in shoe rack that’ll fit thirty pairs of your favorites. I know, I know.” He waves a hand.

“It’s not quite enough, but this is temporary, after all.

” He turns in a circle, pointing at the bedroom door, then the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Deep tub, great view.” He backs into the kitchen, a hand on his heart.

“And the six-burner gas stove will be the perfect tool for trying out new recipes. It ticks all your boxes.”

My stomach sinks. “How?”

How does he know what my boxes are? This man doesn’t pay attention to anything . He’s never cared about what I have to say as much as he cares about lunch and slushies and shooting hoops with the mini ball and the basket on the back of his office door.

Stepping close, he rests a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t look so shocked, Lola, I know what my girl likes.”

I peer up at him, my eyes locking with his, and once again my heart stumbles.

His expression goes soft, his irises soothing like calm waters. “This is it, right?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and will the buzz of electricity that radiates from where his hand is still cupping my shoulder to disappear.

Forcing my attention back to the view of the city, I take a breath.

“Tell me it’s perfect.” He finally removes that hand, but only to bring his fingers to the underside of my chin and tilt my head back.

“If it had a Stella’s…” I clear my throat, ridding myself of the emotion welling inside me. “It would be perfect. I’m going to miss the croissants. Ones I can eat are almost impossible to find.” And my Stella’s must use magic ingredients because theirs are exceptional.

He smiles softly as his hand falls from my chin.

I hate myself for wishing it back. I can’t help but wonder if Cal might not be as shallow as I thought. Honestly, that possibility has sent me into a tailspin.

“A girl needs her baked goods,” he murmurs as he takes a single step back. “I’ll get the paperwork done for you.”

I can’t look away from him as he hurries across the room to the building manager.

“You like him.”

Murphy’s comment startles me and I jerk out of my stupor .

“Oh, I—” I swallow.

“You like him.” He repeats as he, too, watches his dad, who’s now wearing the charming smile he’s known for as he speaks to the middle-aged gentleman across the room. “Maybe he’s not that bad after all.” Murphy’s tone is quiet, like he’s really talking to himself.

But he’s almost mimicking my own thoughts.

Maybe.