Just because Alec and Dyers are the only members of Rho Epsilon Beta on the hockey team doesn’t mean there aren’t other teammates who are hoping to join next year.
Uncomfortable with Dad’s beady eyes studying Zach and me, I tug one of the throw pillows over my stomach and hug it close. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Can’t a man call his favorite daughter?”
“I’m youronlydaughter and sure, but it’s not something you typically do.” My father has the confidence of ten men so he doesn’t even falter. “What’s up?”
“I just felt like reconnecting.”
I hum my disbelief. “Did Mom call?”
Zach casts the screen a look, curious to the answer after I shared the details of the conversation I had with Mom yesterday.
“When doesn’t she?” he grouses. “Damn woman’s insisting on more alimony, saying I lied—” He holds up a hand. “You know what? Never mind. That’s my battle to bear.”
I purse my lips, unsure if he’s lying or telling the truth.
“Anyway, I divorced her for a reason—so I don’t have to talk about her.” His grin turns brighter. But it seems… fake. “Your stepmom’s doing well.”
Zach clears his throat and I fight a smirk.
“Oh, she is?” I can see the devilish gleam in my eyes in the self-view video. “That’s great. Being pregnant so young must be tough for?—”
“She’s not that young, Denver,” Dad grouches like he always does. He interrupts mostly because he knows I refuse to use her correct name.
Call me petty, but I’ll back my mom to the grave on this one. Whether she admitted to blackmailing him or not. In her shoes, neurotic about her appearance and still dumped for a younger model, I’d have done the same thing.
“No, she’s not too young for someone Zach’s age,” I agree. “But you’re getting up there now, Dad.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What can I say? Time’s brutal. I was reading an article about geriatric sperm the other day, actually. I think the last of your best stuff was wasted on Logan, which explains a lot.”
Zach chuckles. “Yeah, he’s not the sharpest blade on the ice.”
Dad’s expression pinches. “Well, you should have a little brother in February.”
That he doesn’t bite my head off confirms he’s calling with an ulterior motive. He’s uber sensitive about the age gap between him and my stepmother, which, honestly, is hilarious.
Why get with a woman Franny’s age if you aren’t going to be proud you hooked someone so much younger than yourself?
Men, I swear, make shit so needlessly hard for themselves and everyone around them.
“February’s her due date? I’m glad I’ll be in Spain, then,” is my lofty—and bitchy—response.
Zach shuffles on the couch beside me but doesn’t butt in.
“Denny. Don’t be like that,” Dad mutters.
“I’ll be however I want. I’m not into babies, Dad. You didn’t spawn a girlie girl who’d coo over kids.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Infact, I think you’re being sexist. I bet you don’t expect Logan and Paul to go gaga over a baby.”
Dad proves he’s only a moron, just not one of epic proportions, when he concedes that with a grimace.
“So, did Mom talk to you about Alec Carver?—”
“Now that you mention it, I’m glad you’re there, Zach.”
I roll my eyes and shove the phone at him.
