Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(39)

He laughed. “Okay. Which pillows do you want?”

I smiled triumphantly.

I didn’t torture him too much. I chose two very tasteful, sophisticated Christmas pillows that said MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY HOLIDAYS on them and a red fleece throw blanket with a faux fur trim. We agreed on a pine-and-berry centerpiece. And, he let me pick a wreath for the inside of his door. But only because I was watching his dog for free, he said.

I think he secretly liked it.

We grabbed him some ornaments, a star, a few strands of lights, and a tree skirt.

We bought it all, put the third row down in the trunk of my car, and loaded it in, and then wandered over to Whole Foods for groceries.

“So what do you want for dinner?” he asked as we walked in through the automatic doors.

“Soup,” I said, pushing the stroller. “We can throw it all in a pot and simmer it while we set up your tree.”

“Soup it is,” he said, grabbing a cart. “What kind?”

“Um…chicken and wild rice? It’s filling enough for dinner.”

He smiled. “Agreed. We’ll get some bread bowls to put it in.”

I bounced. “Let’s get a gingerbread house for dessert! We can decorate it and then eat the roof.”

He grinned, walking into the produce section. “Does anyone ever tell you no?”

I pretended to think about it. “Never.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he said, stopping by the oranges to pull a business card out of his jacket. “I thought you might be interested in this for your dad.” He handed it to me. “Her name is Sonja Duggar. She’s a sober companion and life coach.”

“A what?” I asked, taking the paper.

“A sober companion and life coach. We use them to keep clients out of trouble while they’re on trial. She’s particularly good at cases where the client needs to look reformed in front of the judge at their next appearance. She’s good. He’ll like her.”

I looked up at him. “What does she do exactly?”

“Whatever needs to be done. If alcohol or addiction is the issue, she’ll get the client clean and sober and keep them there. She drives them to AA meetings and therapy sessions and supervises visitation. Makes sure they’re not in any violations of their court order. Ensures that medications are taken, they hold down their job, and show up to court on time. She used to be a therapist. She’s retired now and she does this on the side.”

I scoffed. “A babysitter. And it’s sad because he actually needs one,” I mumbled.

We started walking toward the onions. “She’ll be expensive,” he said. “Insurance won’t cover it. But it’ll free you up so you’re not worrying about him when you’re not there. She’ll get the house taken care of, and she’ll help him deal with the underlying reasons that got it there in the first place.”

Oh God, that would be incredible. There wasn’t enough of me to go around. I was spread too thin as it was.

I smiled over at him. “This is amazing. I didn’t even know this was a thing.”

“It’s a thing. It might be difficult to get him onboard. The stakes are higher for my clients, so it’s not that hard of a sell when I pitch it.”

I snorted. “Oh, the stakes are high here too. If he doesn’t get his shit together, I’m cutting him off.”

He smiled and grabbed a bag for the onions. “She’ll even live there if he has a spare room and he doesn’t mind her cat—though it’ll cost more.”

I didn’t care about the cost. I needed results. And Dad was always so lonely he’d probably love someone staying with him who wasn’t as fucked up as he was.

Speaking of Annabel…

My sister hadn’t surfaced since the car accident. She was still posting her digital art pics on Instagram, so I knew she was alive. Probably crashing on someone’s sofa if I had to guess, completely oblivious to the chaos she’d caused, as usual. I was beyond pissed at her. Between destroying the car and finding out she was maybe using while she was pregnant, I was done. I’d officially gone full tough love on her ass. I’d already cut off the money, and she wasn’t allowed back at Dad’s. But yesterday I’d had her cell phone shut off too. I wasn’t contributing one dime to enabling this bullshit. Let her hit rock bottom faster.

“I’ll call Sonja today,” I said. “Thank you for this.”

He smiled at me. “You got it.”

Picking out groceries with Adrian was one of the most fun things I’d done all year. He was exactly like me when it came to produce. He inspected everything, picked out all the best ingredients. He went with fresh herbs instead of dried stuff, organic heavy cream and chicken broth for the base, Plugrá butter for the roux.

Then we went crazy and bought like seventeen different cheeses. People were staring at us. We were dangerous together. I couldn’t even imagine us in France. We’d go broke on the wine alone.

Somewhere along the way, dinner for tomorrow came up and suddenly we were shopping for that too: chicken cordon bleu, with horseradish mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. But at my place this time instead.

When it came time to wander out to the tree tent in the parking lot, Adrian paused with the shopping cart at the sliding doors.