Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(47)

“Daddy, look!”

I lifted my head from my laptop. “Oh, wow! That’s awesome, baby.”

“Look at its horn. I did its horn all by myself.”

“Well, duh. The horn is my favorite part. Of course you did it.”

Glitter fell everywhere as she shook the picture at me. “Look at its butt. Hadley did its butt. Isn’t it a good butt, Daddy?”

It was. It really fucking was. Not that I’d looked one of the four times she’d bent over to get something out of her bag that night.

Also, not that I’d been counting how many times she’d bent down or anything.

Christ. I had to get laid. This was ridiculous. I hated the woman. Kinda.

My sex life had both changed a lot and not at all since I’d become a father. Interactions were limited to one-night stands. But they were so infrequent that they were more like once-a-year stands. And it was starting to feel like we were creeping up on day 364.

“Tail,” Hadley corrected. “She’s talking about its tail.” She laughed, trapping her teeth between her lips.

My phone started ringing, Trent’s name flashing on the screen. Standing up from my chair, I looked back to Rosalee. “It’s almost three. Hadley should probably start cleaning things up.”

“Noooooooooo,” Rosie cried. “She just got here. We were going to make a Pegasus next.”

I flicked a pointed look to Hadley, and she quickly backed me up. “You know what? I have to get going anyway. What if I outline the Pegasus for Wednesday? That way, we can spend more time decorating it.”

“Without the horn. I wanna draw the horn.”

She smiled at my girl, who immediately smiled back—the whole damn room becoming ten watts brighter. “Okay, so I’ll just draw its butt and wings, then. Deal?”

They continued talking, but I gave Alejandra a chin jerk as I lifted my ringing phone in her direction. She was standing at the sink, washing dishes for the tenth time. She didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but I could tell she was worried about Rosalee, so I hadn’t said anything when she’d popped in minutes before Hadley was slated to arrive.

She gave me a curt nod in understanding, and I headed for the front door, lifting the phone to my ear.

I hadn’t talked to Trent in weeks. I’d been trying to get in touch with him since Hadley had shown up at the birthday party, but admittedly, I hadn’t been trying hard. Trent and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. We talked twice a year whether we needed to or not, and he and his wife, Jennifer, would come down to visit two other times. The calls usually aligned with the visits for planning purposes. And since they’d left our place less than two months earlier, it wasn’t time for either.

“About damn time you called me back,” I grumbled as a greeting while walking outside to wait for Hadley—and get out of earshot.

“You rang,” he droned in his best Lurch impression.

“I rang twice in the last two weeks.”

“Does rich, neglected Caven need me to hang up and call back to make up for the second time?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“But you have to admit I’m really good at it.”

Jennifer shouted in the background, “Hey, Cav!”

I sank to the cold brick step. “Tell her I said hey.”

“He says fuck off. I think he’s mad at you for not calling him back last week,” Trent told her.

“That is not what I said.”

Jennifer knew better. Laughing, she replied, “He didn’t call my phone, smartass.”

“Ah, right,” Trent said. “So, what’s up, little brother. How’s Rosie?”

“Pretty good. She’s just cleaning up the glitter in the dining room with Hadley.”

“Did you fire Alejandra?”

“Nope,” I said, waiting for her name to click in his head.

“You got a new girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Then who is Hadl—Oh, shit!” Yep. There it was. “Are we talking about Hadley Hadley? Rosalee’s womb donor Hadley?”

“Hadley Banks. And yes.”

I heard his recliner snap as he no doubt jumped to his feet. “What the fuck, Cav? When the hell did she get back?”

I put my elbows to my knees. “About two weeks ago.”

“And I’m just hearing about it now?”

“I called.”

“Twice. In two fucking weeks. That says to me you stubbed your toe on a stack of cash, not that the mother of your child suddenly reappeared out of nowhere. Goddamn it. Did someone amputate your thumbs? You could have sent a fucking text letting me know it was urgent.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s been a fucking mess over here.”

If I knew Trent, he was pacing as he demanded, “Dammit. Start from the beginning. But give me the abridged version so we can get to the part to why she’s in your goddamn house and not the city’s jail.”

There was only one part of the long, sordid story he was going to care about, so I went there first. “She was at the mall. Her parents died there.”

“What. The. Fuck,” he breathed before his voice grew to a shout. “What the fucking fuck! How is that possible? You met this woman in New York, right? Does she know who you are? Does she know about Dad?”