“Well, he’s never given us any reason to think otherwise,” I allow, letting her off the hook. “But that doesn’t mean whatever’s going on with this guy isn’t legit. Maybe he’s bi. Or maybe he really did identify as straight until he met this guy and just fell for him—that’s been known to happen.”
“Huh…I hadn’t really considered that.” She gives a little shake of her head. “Well, regardless of how it started, they’ve broken up now and Dad’s a total wreck about it. I’m really worried about him, Jazz. He skipped work yesterday and when I went to check on him he was covered in Cheeto dust and maple syrup. And he was watching…Pretty Woman,”she finishes in a hushed voice, as though revealing some deep, dark secret. “AndI’m worried about Izzy as well,” she continues. “You know she doesn’t like when people around her are upset.”
I nod, feeling a frown touch my face. Izzy’s such an empathetic child; if Dad’s upset, she’s going to pick up on it no matter how hard he tries to hide it from her.
“So, what do you want me to do?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you could talk to Dad or something?”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Why? So, we can bond over how we both love dick?”
She scowls at me. “No, of course not. It’s just…” She lets out a heavy sigh, looking dejected. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just having a little trouble getting my head around this whole Dad being into a guy thing. I know I should be totally fine with it, and it’s really uncool for me to be acting this way, but it’s just a little weird for me right now.”
I cut off her tumble of words by reaching out to place my hand over hers. “Pip, it’s okay. This is pretty big news. You don’t have to be a hundred per cent okay with it right away.”
“I’m worried I’m going to say the wrong thing and he’s going to hate me,” she admits in a small voice.
I offer a soft smile, squeezing her hand gently. “He is never going to hate you. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to him.”
She offers a smile full of relief, and I feel a moment of joy to have made her feel better. But then the trepidation sets in. Fucking hell, what am I going to talk to my dad about? If Piper’s to be believed, he has real, serious feelings for this guy. I can’t relate to that. I’ve never had feelings for anyone.
I take another sip of my drink, marveling for a moment at how smooth and silky it is. Whoever made it is my new favorite person.
Gia walks past us then, offering her characteristic bright smile. “Everything good here, guys?”
“It’s great,” I tell her. “Is this one of yours?” I gesture to my glass.
She shakes her head. “Nope. That was Damon.”
My brows shoot up. “The new guy? He’s here?”
I scan my eyes across the bar, my curiosity piqued. From what Gia’s told me this guy really knows his stuff, even though it’s been quite a while since he’s worked in a bar. If the sour he just made me is anything to go by, I wholeheartedly approve of her hiring decision.
When I spot the unfamiliar face behind the bar my glass nearly falls from my hand. Because holy fucking shit, the hottest man alive is now working in my bar.
5
As much asI’d love to stay and ogle the Alexander Skarsgard doppelgänger now working behind my bar, my family’s more important so as soon as I finish my drink I say goodbye to my sister and head to Dad’s Fifth Avenue office. But it’s a wasted trip because apparently he’s not in today. His assistant tells me it’s because Izzy has a fever.
At my look of alarm, Joseph quickly clarifies, “It’s nothing serious—she just needs rest, Tylenol…that sort of thing.”
My alarm quickly morphs into a mix of relief and surprise, because despite being a pretty hands-on parent for someone who owns a multi-billion-dollar media corporation, a mild fever isn’t something that would usually cause Dad to skip work.
Joseph shrugs. “Yeah, I know. But I guess he’s probably still shaking off the bug he had yesterday. Maybe that’s what Izzy has?”
I have to bite my lip to hold back a snort of amusement.I very much doubt it…
I thank Joseph then make my way out of the building, heading across town to Dad’s Chelsea brownstone.
I find him in the living room watching a history documentary, a sleeping Izzy curled up in his lap.
“Well, you don’t seem like a total wreck,” I observe, falling into the armchair opposite the sofa. I mean, he doesn’t lookgreat—he hasn’t shaved today and it’s pretty obvious he hasn’t been sleeping well—but he’s not the total mess I was expecting after hearing Piper’s description and learning he’d skipped work again. “Piper made it seem like you were barely clinging to your sanity.”
“I wouldn’t go that far but yesterday wasn’t a pretty sight,” he says ruefully. “What are you doing home, anyway? I thought you were staying in California for Thanksgiving.”
“Piper called in an SOS,” I say with a shrug. I’m not going to go into the full details; he’s got enough to be concerned with right now. “So…does your “friend” need any more advice?” I ask pointedly, lifting my hands to form air quotes as I reference the conversation we had just before I left for LA. It honestly never occurred to me that he might have been referring to himself when he asked for my opinion on a straight guy who occasionally engaged in anal sex as a form of stress relief but had recently experienced a more intimate encounter, which had led to some confusion. For one thing, my dad has never been as comfortable as I am talking about sex, and for another it didn’t strike me as odd that he might try to gather this information to better understand a friend’s situation. That’s just the kind of guy he is.
Of course, the penny dropped the second Piper told me about the guy he’d been seeing. And I can tell by the groan he lets out as he swipes a hand over his pink-tinged face that he regrets sharing so much information with me.
