Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Every child had a favorite set of grandparents. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t my parents. I couldn’t blame the children either. But as long as Trip could do his own thing and Ellie had her coloring books, they’d be fine for a few hours.
Dad did all right. He still knew what children liked, and he could lure Trip out of his room with a puzzle or a documentary. He could even humor Ellie with her collection of stuffed animals and glitter glue. Mom, however…
“I think that’s it,” I said. “No pool at this hour, no hauling out their bikes. They already bathed. I’ll be home before midnight.”
She smiled indulgently and came over to me to adjust my tie. Which was already as straight as it could be.
“You’re a terrific father, West. Don’t worry about the children, and take your time. Okay? If you and Lance hit it off—”
“It’s a first date, and I don’t have my hopes up.” I cut her off politely and lowered her hands. “I’d prefer if you didn’t either.”
She tskd me. “Darling, you do need to lighten up. It’s admirable how you’ve focused on being a father these past two years, but it’s time for you to find your own happiness. I want you to have what your sisters have.”
Thanks, but the last part was more of an insult. I’d kill myself. They were so fucking intelligent and creative, but once they’d found their husbands, it was as if someone tapped the off button. Their idea of a packed day was dropping off the kids at school and then getting their nails done.
I didn’t say that, though. I dipped down and kissed her cheek, and then I made my way out of the kitchen.
Tomorrow, I was gonna give Evan a call. Maybe we could meet up next weekend—unless he and his wife were off on another adventure.
Not all multimillionaires were boring, cookie-cutter robots with stuck-up opinions and holier-than-thou attitudes.
Alfie had liked Evan and Malina too.
Alfie, Alfie, fucking Alfie.
I released a breath and headed into the den, where Dad was watching the news. Ellie and Trip sat on the floor with their iPads.
“Sweethearts, I’m off to dinner. Be good for Grandma and Grandpa, all right?”
“I’ll do my best!” Ellie smirked.
I shook my head in amusement.
“Who are you going to dinner with?” Trip wondered. “Can I come?”
“Oh, I couldn’t put you through that torture, son,” I chuckled, adjusting my cuff links. “It’s a friend of a friend from work.” Sort of. A colleague’s friend’s brother, whom I’d been introduced to at a work event. He’d asked for my “socials,” and I’d felt put on the spot.
Apologies, I’ll be late. There’s been an accident on Broad, and it’s completely backed up.
I sighed and checked the rearview, then peered up ahead to the next turn I could make. Right now, I wasn’t going anywhere. Saturday night and city traffic. Fucking great.
As I waited for Lance’s response, I went to Instagram and checked the alerts from my latest update. Every other week, I dusted off my private account to post photos of Trip and Ellie. Alfie did the same on his weeks, though he posted every now and then when he didn’t have the kids too. Exclusively Philly photos from his daily runs.
After today, I’d say he did more than run.
I still couldn’t believe how defined his abs had become.
And all that ink…
He’d been out-of-this-world gorgeous when he’d been a model, but this was something else. He had an edge to him that’d sharpened to a new point.
He’d commented on the photo I’d posted of Trip and Ellie by the pool.
Wait. That was his profile picture, but he’d changed his username.
@theodwyerdad: they grow up too fast.
O’Dwyer.
I swallowed and clicked on his profile, immediately scanning his name and bio.
Alfie O’Dwyer
Dad of two li’l stars. Philly.
He was changing his name back.
He’d once said he was keeping mine because he wanted to share the same one we’d given the kids. Now, he’d changed his mind. He was leaving Scott behind.
It shouldn’t hurt, but it did.
His account was private too, and I was mildly embarrassed to admit I kept track of his followers. All forty of them. But who could blame me? He never told me anything about who he hung out with, who he knew, and if he’d made new friends.
I scrolled through the list, recognizing the majority of the handles. Some parents from Trip’s school, some from Ellie’s kindergarten. A teacher or two. Family and friends.
I flicked a glance around me. Still no movement.
Fuck, I just wanted to go home again.
I popped open the glove compartment and dug out my smokes, and then I rolled down the window.
Once I’d lit up and taken the first drag, I made my way through his photos, not for the first time.
Hundreds of pictures of our children—and never in a location that revealed much about how he lived. Sure, there were several of Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, some from the couch in the living room. Just…always at an angle that didn’t give anything away about the size of his house.