I swallow the lump in my throat and tell Lena, “Don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I forced him to keep it a secret.”
“Well,” she says with a satisfied smirk. “Apparently, it only takes one margarita for him to spill it. He also admitted to giving Finn my number so I could give him your dad’s.” She grins knowingly. “How was the soup?”
A sad smile lifts the corners of my lips. “It was delicious.”
“Good.” Lena drops to the couch next to me. “Now, tell us what happened yesterday.”
Micah and Emil join us on the couch, and I finally tell the truth about everything.
Lena blows out a long breath as I finish, shaking her head. “We need a plan.”
I shrug. “I have one. I just endure it. I refuse to quit my job, and I refuse to pull out of the running for the promotion. He doesn’t get to watch me completely ruin my life because of him again.” All three of them nod. “I’m going to fight tooth and nail to earn it.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling better already just by saying all of that out loud.
Lena squeezes her arms around my shoulders, swaying me back and forth. “I’m so fucking proud of you. I had a whole pep talk planned, but it sounds like you didn’t need it. You thought it up yourself.” She smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Now let’s bake cookies and learn how to make voodoo dolls to hex him with.”
Chapter 38
Finn
“Good afternoon, Mom,” I answer as I drop into my office chair. Her set ringtone echoed three times from my pocket before I decided to answer.
“Well, you finally speak to me. That’s so kind of you,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her words like acid.
“What can I do for you?” I set my glasses on my desk and press my fingers to my forehead, hoping to release some of the tension.
“I was wondering if your father and I are ever going to get to see our granddaughters. It’s been nine weeks.”
I roll my eyes. Of course she would be counting. She probably has a fucking calendar to keep track.
“I’m sure we can work something out soon.”
“That’s great to hear. I’ve scheduled a dinner for next Wednesday. I expect you and the girls here.”
“Is it a dinner party or just the five of us?”
“The five of us,” she scoffs. “You’re insane if you think I can put together a dinner party for my friends in that amount of time.”
There’s a brief pause where I consider moving to a new state and changing my phone number so I don’t have to go to this dinner. But I also feel a responsibility to the girls and my parents to help them retain some sort of relationship. They’ll never havethat grandparent-and-grandchild bond that the girls see in movies, but deep down, I feel obligated to try. I want the girls to have nearby family in their lives besides me, and my parents feel like the only option.
“Okay.”
“Wonderful. What do the girls like to eat? I’ll have Beatrice make them something.”
“They love any kind of kid food. Macaroni and cheese, pizza, hot dogs. But honestly, they would also be happy with a roll or a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich too.”
“I’ll see what we can do,” she says, and I practically hear her curled lip through the phone.
“If I need to pick something up for them, I can do that,” I say with a sigh.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Okay. We’ll see you next week.”
“Six o’clock, sharp. Be on time, Finneas. You know how your father likes to eat his dinner hot.”
Like I could ever forget the screaming match of 2017, when he sent our chef running away in tears because his dinner was lukewarm.
I can’t even come up with a kind response to her remark, so I end the call and drop my head to my desk.
