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She left promptly and without acknowledging my father.

He was baffled. I was delighted.

“How long are you staying?” I asked. He always stayed for at least two days, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“However long I feel like. Tu casa es mi casa, son. You certainly have the room.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“Pretty sure you got that saying mixed up,” I pointed out.

“Well, you’re the fancy writer.”

Going by his answer, I figured I’d be kicking them out in about two days. I’d had to do it before. My dad liked to push his luck.

I started reading and signing the contracts Ro had brought in.

“Contracts are signed,” I yelled automatically when I was done. I didn’t like to text her. It was more fun to shout down the hall and annoy her.

Ro came back and gathered the contracts.

“Too good to make a cup of coffee, eh?” my dad asked her as she passed by.

“For you, most definitely,” she said without missing a beat, already out the door.

“She’s got a mouth,” Carson said, looking like he’d tasted something sour. “You put up with that kind of insolence?”

I didn’t bother to tell him that I ate it up with a spoon and sprinkles on top.

Instead my eyes narrowed at him. “You must have really pissed her off between the front door and my office. What the fuck did you say to her?”

He rolled his eyes. “For the love of God,” he said dramatically, “everyone’s so sensitive these days.”

Was is too early for Scotch? I checked the time.

Way too early.

Also, I didn’t want to show or share the good stuff with my dad. Not because I was the least bit cheap or couldn’t afford it. Just because he didn’t deserve it. And of course I was diametrically opposed to sharing anything of value with him.

Eventually and thankfully he left my office to go do God knows what with my stepmommy dearest.

I instantly went to speak to/harass Ro in her office.

She was sitting at her desk, working on her computer. She looked up when I walked in and shut the door. She raised a brow.

“What did he say to you?” I asked her, trying not to sound as upset about the possibilities as I actually was.

She shrugged, her face stoic. “Nothing important. He’s a piece of work.”

“That he is. Please stay far away from him while he’s here.”

“Obviously,” she said and I smiled.

“His wife, Ida, seems nice,” she remarked.

I scowled. “She’s not. Stay away from her, too.”

“What, why?”