“True.” I nodded in agreement.
We talked about the case for a few minutes, but after our food arrived, Arlo decided that the table was officially a no-work zone. We had been slaving over documents for a solid week—Arlo was writing motions, and I was digging for anything that could help. The last thing either of us needed to be thinking about was the job that we would be returning to on Monday. It was kind of odd for me to have the whole weekend off—I rarely got a Saturday off when I worked for Enzo. Two days in a row was a luxury I hadn’t known since I got to the city.
The margaritas were so good that I went for a third after I finished my second. I could already tell that it was a mistake because I was feeling it, but I didn’t care. Arlo was making me laugh more than I had laughed in years—that buzz was better than the tequila. I forgot how funny he could be. I didn’t get to see that side of him much when I was visiting Jake, but it was different when I worked at Anderson & Anderson. He said things under his breath that used to make me crack up, and I was usually the only one that could hear him since I spent a lot of time in his office organizing stacks of documents—before I became a ghost that only worked when everyone else was asleep.
“What was the name of that client…” I sipped my margarita as I tried to remember. “The guy who got arrested for breaking into his girlfriend’s house to surprise her. The menace guy…”
“The menace guy? Oh! Dennis!” Arlo nodded, and his lips spread into a smile. “He got quite a surprise when his girlfriend came home with someone else.”
“That’s right!” I looked down and laughed. “You used to call him Dennis the Menace to Society!”
“Wow, you’re right.” He chuckled under his breath. “I always have a name for them—not everyone knows that.”
“Have you come up with the name for Demi Hart yet?” I tilted my head inquisitively.
“No, I haven’t really had time to sit and stew over the case. That’s usually when I start trying to entertain myself…” He continued to chuckle and shook his head.
“Did you have a name for me?” I narrowed my eyes.
“No, I usually save them for clients. It helps me remember the cases a little better—just something I do.” He shrugged and reached for his whiskey.
“I guess you didn’t really have to give me one.” I looked down and laughed—For the first time since it happened, the stupid game struck me as funny for some reason. “I did that to myself.”
I’ve never laughed about it before—never thought I would.
“That whole situation was ridiculous.” Arlo scoffed. “I still can’t believe Jake broke up with you because of it.”
That part I still can’t laugh about, but it doesn’t really sting anymore…
“Yeah, I went from dreaming of the altar, to being all alone.” I sighed and reached for my margarita. “But hey—maybe one of those million eligible bachelors in New York City will fix that one day.”
“I’m sure they will.” He nodded. “Too bad I’m not ten years younger…”
“Only ten?” The smile returned to my face, and I raised an eyebrow.
“Well if I knocked off twenty, I would be younger than you.” I sipped his whiskey and laughed.
“Wow.” I blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were that young when Jake was born.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “I got married the day I turned eighteen—before she started showing.”
“Damn. You still managed to go to college and law school?” I blinked a couple more times as I pieced together the timeline in my head.
“Jake’s grandparents helped a lot. They were perfectly fine with everything once I put a wedding band on his mother’s hand. Of course, letting them help so much is probably why he’s always been so close to them. Maybe that was a mistake…” Arlo sighed. “But you can’t change the past. All you can do is move forward.”
I really should try to adopt that philosophy myself.
“True…” I nodded in agreement.
I always had a lot of respect for Arlo, even before he showed me so much kindness after my world came crashing down, but I felt like I was seeing him in a different light. I thought everything I went through was tough, but I couldn’t imagine being eighteen with a baby on the way—even if I was married first. Based on what Jake had told me, I knew Arlo’s wife didn’t handle that challenge very well, which was why the marriage only lasted for a couple of years before it fell apart.
“I should probably call it a night after this one.” Arlo lifted his whiskey to his lips and finished it.
“I don’t think I will be very happy with myself tomorrow morning if I get another margarita, so I’m right there with you.” I nodded in agreement.
Arlo refused to let me pay for my meal, or my drinks, no matter how much I tried to convince him. I had to run to the restroom before I left, so I excused myself for a couple of minutes. I knew there was no way that I could convince Arlo to let me take the subway home—so I didn’t even try. He was already waiting outside when I returned from the restroom.
“The Uber is taking a little bit longer than I thought…” He looked over at me.
“It’s Friday night.” I shrugged and reached into my purse to get my Juul. “I’m sure they’re busy.”
“Yeah.’ He nodded in agreement.
“I don’t suppose you would want to have dinner with me tomorrow?” He tilted his head inquisitively.
“There are a few more places we could try.” I nodded. “I certainly don’t have any plans.”
“You should…” He raised an eyebrow.
“Not until one of those million eligible bachelors shows up on my doorstep.” I laughed and lifted the Juul to my lips.
“They’ll figure out what they’re missing eventually.” He shook his head as if it was a foregone conclusion.
“Would you really be one of them if you were ten years younger?” I narrowed my eyes. “Or were you just being nice?”
“It’s probably better if I don’t answer that question.” He shook his head quickly.
“So you were just being nice.” I felt a twinge of disappointment.
“No, but you should really be a lawyer because you just walked me right into the answer.” He looked down and sighed.
“You must be rubbing off on me.” I looked towards the curb when a car approached. “I think that’s my ride.”
“I believe so.” He held up his phone, which confirmed it.
“Just so you know…” I looked up at him as he opened the car door. “If our situation was different—you wouldn’t have to be ten years younger.”
I sat down in the car, and our eyes met for a moment before he pushed the door closed. I saw something in his stare that made me immediately regret what I said—of all the people in the world, Arlo was on a very short list of guys I could never get involved with. Even if he wasn’t my ex-boyfriend’s father, he was my boss for the next year. Thankfully, I had three margaritas to blame it on—if it ever came up again.
Oddly enough, I did have a crush Arlo before I started dating Jake. There was something about him that drew me in once I started working at Anderson & Anderson. That fascination went away once I fell head-over-heels for his son, but there was a part of me that hadn’t totally forgotten how I used to stare at him when he had no idea I was watching. It was a harmless little teenage crush that would have never gone anywhere, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about him. I wasn’t the only one—there were plenty of girls at my school that thought he was the hottest dad on the planet.
Even Kristy Sinclair—that fucking bitch—but she definitely wasn’t the only one.
Arlo’s age didn’t really bother me. If the math in my head was right, he was thirty-nine, which was a very long way from the retirement home. Everything that happened to me before I left Penny Grove and after I got to the city definitely took a toll on me. The thought of dating a guy my age who was still in college with the maturity level to go with it
actually made me cringe. There was no way that we would have anything in common.
If that was what I had to look forward to with a million eligible bachelors in New York City, then I didn’t mind being single for the rest of my life. It would be so hard for me to trust my heart with someone else after Jake tore it to pieces. The sting was gone and hanging out with Arlo didn’t reopen the old wounds, but that didn’t mean I would be able to open myself up to someone very easily. Maybe Arlo wasn’t the right guy for me, but someone with his qualities was exactly what I needed in my life—stability, kindness, maturity, humor, and it would help if they filled out a suit as well as he did.
The chances of finding that are probably a million to one, so maybe it’s a good thing there are at least that many out there…
Chapter Eleven
Arlo
I mentally kicked myself all the way back to my hotel. It was one thing to let my mind get away from me and think what if, but something else entirely to let those words escape my thoughts and pass across my lips. I wouldn’t have said a damn thing if I hadn’t gotten lost in the moment, and I couldn’t even blame the whiskey for that one. I navigated my way around professional negotiators, people who got paid to trip people up, and yet I stumbled into a confession without blinking. Yes, she was a beautiful young woman. Yes, she was amazing. Yes, I would have been the first one in line if our situation was different.
But it isn’t. It’s the most fucked up, complicated situation ever, and I should haven’t bit a hole in my tongue to keep it from flapping.
The first thing I did when I got back to my hotel room was take out my anger on a shot of whiskey from the mini-bar—and one more for good measure. My liver would have to take the brunt of the punishment I couldn’t give myself any other way. There was absolutely no reason for me to have a single solitary thought about Phoebe—as anything other than an employee and a friend. I was there for her when she needed me, but she was well past that—she had built a good life for herself in New York City. By the time the Demi Hart case was over with, she would be in an even better position than she was when I arrived—that’s what friends did, and truthfully, I needed her damn help. I couldn’t let mixed thoughts interfere with that.
I already agreed to hang out with her tomorrow night, but that needs to be the end of it. We’ll keep it professional after that—it’s for the best.
Two quick shots of whiskey on top of what I had slowly consumed at the restaurant quickly sent me in a tailspin towards the bedroom. I wasn’t blackout drunk by any means, but I was feeling the buzz in a way that made me just want to lay down until I was ready to sleep. I decided to distract myself with the evening news—there were always people out there having a worse time than me, and that was the soundtrack to my slumber almost every night. I liked having a little noise in the background—it made it seem like I wasn’t all alone in the world. A placebo for the thing that was missing from my life—but that was a void I needed to fill with anyone other than my son’s ex-girlfriend.
My relationship with Jake is already in the toilet—there aren’t many ways I could make it worse, but I’m pretty sure Phoebe Carter is at the top of the list.
* * *
The next morning brought a little more clarity than I had the night before—the whiskey had obviously messed with my head more than I thought. I wasn’t as angry with myself for what I said, but I had enough cognition to understand that I couldn’t be the only one who saw what a train wreck it would be if anything ever happened between us. I assumed Phoebe got lost in a moment like I did—too many margaritas with a tequila buzz that let lips get loose. I was obviously too old for her—she was probably just being nice because of what I said. She had to know that out of a million; I was one of the worst choices.
Maybe we can just clear this up over dinner—before we have a drink. I’m sure we’ll just laugh at the absurdity and move on.
Despite not having any files at the hotel, I still spent part of the day researching case law and looking at some old lawsuits to see if I could find anything that could help Demi Hart walk away with a slap on her wrist. I was still a law nerd, and I wanted to make sure I gave my client the best defense possible. I didn’t find anything especially interesting, but I made some notes that I could dig into a little deeper when I had more time. I wanted to squeeze in a workout before dinner, and the one thing I did miss about Penny Grove was the gym—the one in my hotel didn’t have most of the equipment I used. If anything, I got something that resembled a workout and a mental note to see if there were any real gyms within walking distance.
I guess I need to go get ready.
I was torn between looking forward to spending more time with Phoebe and wanting to make sure it was the last time we spent time together outside of the office. I really did like hanging out with her—most of the women I dated didn’t find any humor in law jokes or commentary about my clients. I was lucky to get a smile, much less a laugh. Phoebe was different. Maybe that was because she was so much younger than me, and I needed to add some maturity to the years that separated us to keep the right amount of distance. Deep down, I knew there was more to it, but I left those things in the back of my memories after she left Penny Grove.
It’s just my fucking nature. I can’t really explain it.
I always felt very protective of Phoebe. She was just a kid when I met her—the day she showed up to answer my job listing for someone who could help us move all of our paper files to our new electronic system. I was looking for a college student, not someone my son’s age, but I decided to give her a chance, just to see if she could sit down and hold a conversation long enough to be interviewed—without looking at her cell phone ten times like the applicant I had already decided not to hire.
Phoebe surprised me with her knowledge and maturity. She quoted Benjamin Franklin during the interview—”Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”—there was no reason to interview anyone else after that. The job was hers. I almost told Jake to take fifty steps back when she caught his eye because I thought her star was far too bright for him. I was worried he would end up in her shadow, and I knew his ego couldn’t handle that.
I’m sure it wouldn’t have worked, but if it had, she would have been saved from so much misery.
* * *
Phoebe and I made plans to meet at Loco Azteca, which I assumed was a Mexican restaurant based on the name. Our dining choices seemed to be going downhill every time we went out—if it wasn’t going to be the last time, we would have probably ended up eating from a food truck in less than a week. I took an Uber to the restaurant and was the first to arrive. It didn’t seem like reservations were necessary, even on a Saturday night—I wondered if that was why she chose it. It did give me an excuse to finally break out a polo shirt instead of a button down, so I was as casual as I got when I wasn’t alone in my own house—or hotel room.
“Hey, you made it!” Phoebe smiled when she walked in. “I was worried that this place wouldn’t even be on your Uber driver’s GPS.”
“Oh, is that why they don’t have many customers?” I looked up at her and managed not to laugh.
“It’s not super popular, but the food is amazing.” Phoebe pulled out her chair and sat down. “And like Missouri Six, they don’t water down their margaritas.”
“I wonder if they even have whiskey…” I reached for the menu and opened it.
Maybe I should stick to beer tonight.
“They do. I checked.” Phoebe leaned over and pointed at the menu.
“Hold on.” I tilted my head in confusion as I read the options. “What the hell is Mexican whiskey?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Are you going to try it?”
“I think my curiosity is piqued…” I nodded.
I decided to ask our server about the strange new discovery I had made on their menu before I actually ordered it. With broken English that was pretty easy to understand, I got a quick education on the scarcity
of agave plants and how that led to a distiller making whiskey out of heirloom corn. That convinced me to try it—even if it was awful—just so I would have something to tell the lawyers back home about when I returned to Penny Grove. I felt confident none of them knew about Mexican whiskey.
“How is it?” Phoebe stared as I took my first sip.
“Surprisingly—good.” I nodded. “I don’t know if I would go out of my way to get it, but I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“Nice, want to try the margarita?” She pushed it closer to me. “This is the real reason I’m here—they’re so good.”
“I’ll try a sip, but I don’t think I want to go overboard with mixing tequila and whiskey—did that in college once. It didn’t end well...” I took a sip of her margarita and gave it a nod of approval.
“I think we should talk about last night.” Phoebe pushed her margarita to the side and folded her hands on the table.
Well damn, we didn’t even make it through our first drink—maybe that’s for the best.
“Yeah, let me start…” I nodded quickly. “I wasn’t trying to say—what you may have thought I was trying to say?”
“That wasn’t the direction I was going with it, but okay.” She looked down with a perplexed stare on her face.
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head inquisitively.
“Forget it.’ She waved me off. “Let’s just enjoy our meal.”
Phoebe’s response caught me off guard, and I really didn’t understand what happened. I thought she would be quick to dismiss our little discussion by the curb as one that went astray because we had too much to drink. That wasn’t the vibe I was getting from her at all. She seemed pretty damn disappointed. I hated to see that look in her eyes—it made me rethink telling her that we needed to keep things professional, even if that was exactly what needed to happen. I tried to move the conversation to something else, but she seemed distant. I didn’t have any choice but to move it back to the spot I had retreated from.
My Ex Boyfriend’s Daddy Page 8
