Ask Me Why(5)

“Don’t. That’s not what I’m paying you for. Do your job and make sure Ollie is taken care of.”

Mary tsks. “Such a shame. You’re not helping anyone with this attitude.”

“And why would I? Also, I’m done with this conversation.”

“Your son wants to speak with you,” she states causally.

I stare at the ceiling, a smile already forming. “Okay, put him on.”

“Daddy!” The sharp squeal is directly tied to the amount of sugar he’s consumed.

I chuckle and rub my ear. “Hey, buddy.”

“Guess what?”

“Um, Mary got a speeding ticket?”

He scoffs. “No! That’s silly. Miss Mary’s a super slow driver.”

“Darn skippy,” I hear her call from the background.

“Okay, Ollie. I give up. Tell me.” I close my eyes and get lost in his voice.

“I found the bestest store of all time. She has toys and games and candy! Like the taffy kind that’s super-duper chewy. It’s stuck in my teeth!” He giggles, and my heart squeezes. His happiness is all that matters to me.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, buddy.”

“Uh-huh, yep. And Miss Braelyn is so nice. She’s pretty too. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

I blink wide and clutch the pen in my hand. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen, Ollie.”

“But why?” His whine stabs at my chest. “I told her we’d be back tomorrow.”

“Without asking me first?” Am I such a softie that he already expects I’ll give in? Maybe I need to harden up a bit. But just thinking about being harsh with him leaves a sour taste on my tongue.

Ollie pops his lips. “Didn’t think you’d really care, Daddy. You always let me choose what we do on Friday nights.”

“What if I have to work late?” I argue.

“Do you?” The wobble in his tone strikes me deep.

“No.”

“Good. Then, that’s our plan.”

I raise my brows at his certainty. “Just like that?”

“We’ll have so much fun. I promise.”

The need to counterattack buzzes inside of me. My gut tightens on instinct. “I’m not so sure about that, Ollie. Maybe we should visit the park instead.”

“M’kay, Mary wants the phone. And I have more taffy to eat. See you soon, Daddy.”

“Bye, buddy.”

Mary is laughing when she comes back on the line. “He’s got you tied tight around his little finger. That boy is gonna rule the roost soon enough.”

“He already does,” I grumble.

“Ah, let him. He deserves to bask in some extra attention.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’s it going to hurt, Brance?”

I scrub over my forehead. “I don’t want him getting attached to a silly shop, or the owner for that matter.”

“It’s a new discovery. That’s all. Next week he’ll move onto something else.”

“We’ll see about that. Listen, my client is waiting. Tell Ollie I’ll be there soon.”

“Sure, okay. I’ll have him home in an hour or so.” I can feel her hesitance.

“I appreciate it, Mary. I’ll do my best to get outta here soon.”

“Don’t concern yourself over a thing. We’ll be just dandy. I’ve got this situation handled.”

I grunt. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

“Tootles,” she sings.

I roll my eyes and hang up the receiver. My gut twists that I’m not the one enjoying these seemingly mundane experiences with my son. This fucking job is too demanding. But now isn’t the time to analyze my workload.

As if on cue, another knock echoes across the room. My client sashays through the door in a cloud of sickly sweet perfume and death-defying heels. I stand as Missus Kleinston reaches my desk.

I motion to the empty chair. “Please take a seat.”

She delicately folds herself into the leather scoop back. Her light blonde hair is pulled into a severe bun that’s perfectly coiffed. Blood red gloss coats her overly pouty lips, making them stand out far more than normal. Her too-smooth forehead shines in the overhead lights, and I almost chuckle at the irony. This woman clearly wants to hide her age, but the work she’s had done is glaringly obvious. Missus Kleinston reeks of entitlement and manipulation and broken dreams. Fucking typical.

“Thank you very much for meeting me today,” she coos.

I make a show of checking my watch. “And only ninety minutes late.”

My meaning doesn’t hit the mark. Missus Kleinston leans forward, giving me a grotesque view of her fake tits. “I’ve heard you’re the best. I’m more than ready to separate from that cheating asshole I’ve been calling husband. Can you believe he assumes I’ll only get half of everything? What a joke.”

I flare my nostrils and beg for patience. “Ma’am—”

“Lianna,” she corrects.

“With all due respect, my time is very valuable. I don’t appreciate tardiness.”

A bony hand flutters to her chest. “My sincerest apologies. Lunch with the planning committee ran late. I told the driver to hurry.”