“Look, Jane,” I say gently, wiping away a tear from her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “I don’t need a girlfriend. I’m perfectly happy with it being justyou and me. But if someone drops into my life, and I want to date her, then I’ll be grateful knowing I have your blessing, okay?”
She gives me a dubious look, then bites her bottom lip, a habit she had when she was a toddler. “Dad, I want to go to Nana and Papa’s house for Thanksgiving. They asked me.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely shocked. It’s completely inappropriate for those assholes to have invited my daughter over to Thanksgiving without asking me first, but it adds fuel to my raging fire of concern.
“Nana said you could come too,” she tells me, and I almost choke at the thought of sitting down and breaking bread with Evelyn and Bertie, not to mention Millie’s sisters.
No thank you.
“But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jane’s words are like an ax to the chest.
“Why not?”
She gives me that look again. “They don’t like you very much, Dad. And you don’t like them either.”
“And you’d rather go there than have Thanksgiving with your uncles.”
“Uncle Van said he’s planning on getting food from McDonalds.”
Even so, it sounds better to me than the most sumptuous of feasts at the Labelles’. “I was thinking that maybe we’d just stay here. Do you really want to go, Jane?”
“Yes, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes now, like she’s thirteen and not eight. “Didn’t I say so?”
“But why? This isn’t just about you trying to keep them happy, is it? Because that shouldn’t have to be your job.” It kills me that she’d even have to think like that. She should be off doing kid stuff.
“I have my reasons.” She gives me a pointed look. “You say that to me all the time. You’ll need to trust me on this. Can you have Thanksgiving with one of your other friends?”
“Sure, but—”
“Then it’s settled.”
Of course, that’s when the doorbell rings. She’s on her feet in an instant. “I’m going to go get my bag. Can you get the door?”
I want to protest, but she’s already gone.
My head pounding with everything she told me, I open the door.
Betsy and her mom are waiting outside, and Betsy’s bouncing from foot to foot with giddiness.
I laugh. “Someone’s excited.”
Betsy’s mom grins. “She’s been begging to come get Jane since eight this morning.”
“Well, Jane’s excited too,” I say. “What time do I need to pick her up tomorrow?”
“She’s welcome to stay all day,” she says.
Jane comes up next to me with her duffel bag hooked on the crook of her arm.
I wrap an arm around her back and squeeze. “I’ll get her around noon. Jane and I have plans in the afternoon.”
If all goes right, I’ll be able to unveil the computer. I’m even more eager for that to happen…I need to show her how much she means to me.
I see Jane off, and as soon as she’s gone, I get out my phone and call Evelyn Labelle. I’m not even a little bit surprised when it goes to voicemail. Although I’m tempted to leave a colorful one, I’ve been advised not to leave any kind of trail of unpleasantness that can be brought up in court. So I stick to the facts, telling her Jane informed me of the invitation and asking her to call me back.
Once I hang up the phone, my thoughts go to Holly. She’ll be here soon, in my apartment. My stomach twists. I realize I’m nervous, and not just because of the shit the Labelles are trying to pull. Still, she’s not supposed to show up for another hour, so I clean up the kitchen and tidy up the living room, then head to my office to catch up on paperwork.
I’ve only been working for a few minutes when one of my employees from the kitchen rushes to the door of my office.
