“I heard.”
“I would very much like to check for myself on the status of that present I left you yesterday.”
“I think I have time to help you with that.”
His eyes light up, and my god, the swoon happening in my belly and my starry-eyed vagina right now…
I am so utterly gone for this man.
Daphne yawns beside me. “Wow, I amso beat. Must be time to go.”
And I love her too.
Simon presses a key into my hand. “Slip into my office. It’s just beyond the front door on the right. I’ll come and get you when everyone else has left.”
I’d ask if we need to be secretive, but the boys aren’t gone yet, and we’re still easing into me being a part of their lives. Hanging out at an escape room or for a dinner party with two dozen people is one thing.
Them knowing their father is making plans to shag me is another.
“Next time you do a murder mystery dinner, call me beforehand,” Daphne says to Simon. “I have ideas.”
He smiles at her. “Can the world handle the two of us conspiring together?”
“If not, it’ll be a fun way to go.”
We say our goodbyes to the remaining guests and head for the front door.
Daph hugs me and leaves.
I dash the last few paces to the door on the right and use the key to let myself in.
And when I turn around and take in the office—I crack up.
Leave it to Simon to have left even the office the same.
There’s an ancient wooden desk. A modern office chair that seems lopsided. Plastic plants and sagging ancient bookshelves that I suspect are lined with books that have been here for a few decades.
The only things clearly new here are two closed laptops and two printers, one of which has overflowed itself and is blinking an out-of-paper message.
I used to find Griff’s printer like this too. Practically every day of high school.
If it wasn’t homework—and that one year, it definitely wasn’t—it was baseball plays.
He loved having it in a physical form that he could hold.
And after years of picking up after Griff’s printer, habit has me squatting to grab Simon’s papers that have fallen to the floor, musing that this is probably why his computer was running slower.
He told me it regularly prints things all on its own.
I don’t mean to look at the papers, but as I flip the pile over to put it on his desk, the title catches my eye.
The Mad Corn Dog Ambulance
By Simon Luckwood
Pilot: Betrayal
The…what?
