The Broken One (Corisi Billionaires, #1)(55)

“He said it first,” she countered.

“You’re not responsible for what he says, but you are for what you do. I did like, though, that you accepted his apology. That’s a good friend.”

Ava shared a look with Charlotte, then called out, “Sorry, Kevin.”

“It’s okay,” he answered absently. He was already playing with his brother again.

Was it an ideal resolution? Could I have done more? Should I have done less? Parenting felt like a series of on-the-fly best guesses. Later I’d think of things I could have said, but right then I was just happy to see the storm had passed.

Rising, I headed toward the kitchen. Erica looked up from setting the table in the dining room. “Hey, you didn’t have to rush back. The difference between three or four children is so marginal I sometimes forget she’s here. I just listen for yelling or any prolonged quiet—that’s never good.”

I chuckled and started placing silverware near the plates for her. “I do the same. Although, with one kid my house is often quiet. I think that’s why Ava loves to come here.”

“And we love to have her. It’s like having another parent in the house. I never have to worry about what my boys are up to; she’ll either tell them to stop or she’ll tell me to tell them.”

That was Ava.

I paused from setting the table. “We don’t have to stay for dinner. I have food at home.”

“First, Bob is working tonight, so please stay so I can get my daily dose of adult interaction.” Erica waved one finger, then two. “Second, there is no way you’re leaving without telling me how your second date went. He sent a car for you. Swoon. I may have to role-play that out with Bob . . . that was hot.”

I took a seat with a sigh. “It started off good. Really, really good.”

“So his elevator is still functioning.”

“Oh yes.” My cheeks warmed. “That was the good part. And the house he took me to was amazing.”

She sat down across from me. “Then why so glum?”

I fiddled with a paper napkin as I spoke. “He made me glow, Erica. And things were so easy between us. I thought I’d be here telling you that he and I were diving into something wild and amazing.”

“But?”

Discussing it wasn’t easy, because it required unpacking what I’d already stuffed away in a mental box. “I didn’t tell you that Rakesh Bhatt came to see me this morning.”

“The one who owns the store Sebastian is buying out.”

“His family owns it, but yes. His father is very ill, and he asked Sebastian to postpone construction on the new store until after he passes away. They don’t think it will be long. Sebastian refused to even consider it, and Rakesh asked me to see if I could sway him. All I did was ask Sebastian if he’d consider meeting with him again.”

Erica blew a hair out of her eyes. “That was what you chose to discuss right after you rode his elevator?”

I shrugged and looked at the plastic plate before me. “I promised Rakesh I’d say something to Sebastian if I ever saw him again.”

“Girl, I have to teach you about timing. Let me guess—he did not take that well.”

I swallowed and met her gaze. “He asked me if I’d slept with him to sway his decision.”

“Idiot. Him, not you. Men say stupid shit when they’re cornered. Bob once bought an antique car without asking me. When I say antique, I mean old, beaten up—someone should have paid him to take it. He hid it in the garage . . . like I wouldn’t notice it. When I asked him about it, he accused me of switching laundry detergent and giving him jock itch. How does that even make sense? My point is, he really wanted that car, and instead of talking it out with him, we had a yelling match about itchy balls and who does which house chores. Thankfully, we’ve learned to circle back after a cooling-off period and ask for clarification. He doesn’t splurge on many things for himself, and he was already feeling guilty about getting the car—that’s why he went off the deep end when I confronted him about it. He brought baggage to the talk. And me? I actually do care about his junk’s comfort, and I was okay with the car. I just wanted to be included in the decision to buy it. So what I’m saying is that I brought my own baggage to our itchy-ball fight.”

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the mental image of her husband scratching himself while arguing for his antique car. “I could have chosen a better time.”

“Um, yeah. So after he asked you if you were pimping yourself for his competition, did you stick around and try to talk it out?”

I looked away again.

“Let me guess—you told him off and stormed back here?”

“I was angry.”

“And scared. My guess is mostly scared.”

“No.”

“Heather, I adore you, but I’ve seen you with him. I’ve also seen you with your father.”

My head snapped up. “You’ve never seen me with my father. He’s not part of my life anymore.”

“That’s what I mean. I’ve seen the way you avoid him.”

“He has no interest in me or Ava.”

“You’ve told me that he used to call to check in on you.”

“Too little, too late.”