I rolled my eyes as he gave me a side hug. “Ready for your meeting with Martin?” I asked.
Jace groaned. “Is one ever ready to talk to Martin?”
Adrian looked at Jace curiously. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
Jace took a sip of his latte. “Yes and no. He gives me headaches but it’s fine. Nothing egregious.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes at Jace, looking unconvinced. “If it’s more than that, you’ll tell Sutton? She wouldn’t want you being harassed by him.”
“Interesting that you would go right to harassment,” I said, sliding off my barstool.
Adrian shrugged. “Call it a hunch. When Sutton steps down, I don’t think Martin will take the transition of ownership well.”
“I’ll tell her if it gets worse. Right now, it’s mostly just him complaining about whatever charity work my division is sponsoring,” Jace said. “But we do need to get to the office so I can prepare my defense for the increased costs in the rehab facility.”
“I’m also certain Sutton would say you don’t owe him an explanation for that. Seriously, Jace. Just watch your back with him, please,” Adrian said.
A pit formed in my stomach at Adrian’s reaction.
“I will,” Jace promised.
“Okay, I’ll see you two later,” Adrian said, giving us a small wave. “Come visit more often. I know you go to Starbucks most of the time.”
I snorted and Jace pretended to be shocked.
“Oh, please.” Adrian laughed. “I know that’s where Sutton goes whenever she’s with you too.”
Jace tossed an arm over my shoulder. “Liv and I have to run. See you later, Adrian!”
I shook my head and leaned into him. “You really should support the family business.”
He held up his large coffee. “I just did.”
“I got you that,” I said.
“Well then, thanks, Liv, for supporting the family business.”
“Adrian didn’t charge me,” I confessed, making Jace laugh. He held the door of his car open for me and I climbed in, hoping today would be less eventful at the office than yesterday.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jace
Olivia and I rodethe elevator down from our office on Friday night just like we had every other day that week. After the chaos that’d happened on Monday afternoon, the rest of the week had passed in a relative state of calm. Liv moved me seamlessly through my days, listened to me vent after Martin threw a fit about the increase in costs for the rehab facility—a literal fit that Olivia heard through the phone while she was sitting on the other side of my desk going through my mail—and brought me coffee twice a day.
I hadn’t yet had the heart to tell her, but Liv’s coffee wasterrible. I was amazed that someone who’d worked in the restaurant industry as long as she had could be so bad at brewing a pot of coffee. Still, I couldn’t complain. I’d rather have her here than any one of my previous assistants.
When we were done at the office, she’d go home to Kaylee, and I’d go to my art studio before spending the remaining hours of my evenings with Kayden in his apartment or mine. I could tell he wasn’t ready foranything outside the safety of our homes, but I desperately wanted to take him out. I wanted to take him to dinner, and hold his hand in public, and show the world that he was mine. In short, I had it fucking bad. But I wasn’t willing to put pressure on him about us. We were great, and he had enough nervous energy right now waiting for Olivia to decide when he could meet Kaylee.
She didn’t talk to me about her plans for them to meet and I didn’t ask. It felt strange not to be involved in something so important to her, but I didn’t want to pressure her to include me. I wasn’t Kaylee’s parent, and despite my love for and support of Olivia, I cared for Kayden in a way that prevented me from being objective.
Liv’s phone dinged as we stepped off the elevator. She looked at it before slowly lowering it and glaring at me. “Jace, why is your cousin texting me to ask if I napped a lot during the first trimester of my pregnancy?”
I snorted and scratched my beard. “Oh, I told him I wouldn’t be asking you anymore pregnancy-related questions on his behalf.”
“So you gave himmynumber?” she asked, a hand on her hip.
“Yes. But just think, you have the number of a famous hockey player. You could probably sell that thing on the black market for a fortune.”
