Penthouse Prince(29)

And after everything Corrigan has told me about how my dumbass behavior has made her feel, on top of how things went with Grier’s mother, I’m starting to doubt whether I’m even cut out for long-term romantic relationships at all. The evidence would point to no.

Fuck.

“Lexington.” Despite the fatigue in her voice, Mom’s voice sounds the sharpest I’ve heard from her in years. She rests her hand on my arm, locking eyes with me. “Get your act together. Take your time, do things right, but remember you have a daughter to think about.”

I stiffen. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. She always comes first. That’s why I—”

Mom yawns hugely. “Oh dear, pardon me. I’d love to talk more, but I’m afraid I’m fading . . . naptime really sneaked up on me.”

I nod, my jaw muscles tight. “That’s fine, Mom. Rest. We’ll see you again soon. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”

She nods once.

I pick up Grier and head to the door, glancing at Dawn, who is putting on a very convincing show of being totally absorbed in her book. I feel angry all over again at airing our dirty laundry in front of a stranger.

At the last moment before I go, I turn back to say, “Feel better soon, Mom.”

She nods and raises her hand in an attempt at a wave. “Thank you, sugar.”

My mind buzzes with somber thoughts as I drive home, too many things crashing over and over one another and making my blood pressure rise. I don’t know what to think anymore. Trying to figure my life out by myself isn’t working. I need someone to talk to. I’m not sure if what I need is a distraction or a serious hashing-out session or what, but I need something.

Shit—I realize I’ve hardly talked to Dak since I came here. I completely forgot to follow up with him, let alone hang out. And if anyone can give me an insider’s perspective on Corrigan, it’s her brother.

When we get home, I get Grier set up with her favorite toys and call Dak. It only rings a few times before he picks up.

“What’s up, Lex?”

“Hey, man, sorry I took so long to get back to you. I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a beer.”

“Sure, I’m not doing anything right now. Or if you want, we can have a few rounds on the house at Dak’s Place—I know the owner pretty well.”

I snort. “I have to watch Grier. I can’t take a toddler to a bar, even if it is yours.”

“That’s cool. I wanted to see your new place anyway. You free now?”

“Yeah.”

“Be there in twenty.”

“Cool. See you soon.” I hang up.

By the time I’ve cleaned up the kitchen and picked up the mess of books Grier’s dumped into the middle of the living room floor, there’s a knock on the front door. Grier toddles over with Flapflap in tow, but when I open the door to Dak, she glues herself to my leg.

He sets down his six-pack and squats, smiling at her. “Hey there, sweetie. You must be Grier. My name is Dak.”

“Hi,” she says in a tiny voice, then immediately hides her face.

“It’s all right, love bug. Dak is Daddy’s oldest friend.” I stroke her hair soothingly. “Do you want to watch Totoro?”

That does the trick. She detaches with a yell of “Monsters!” and runs to the couch, scrambling up onto it, then grins expectantly at me.

Dak laughs. “Funny kid.”

“Yeah, she likes just about any weird creature or flying thing. That bat she’s dragging around is her all-time favorite toy.” I start the movie and put Dak’s beer in the fridge. “Let me show you around.”

I try to make the tour quick to get my eyes back on Grier sooner, though I can’t keep myself from expounding on the features that originally made me want to buy the house, like its large, sunny bedrooms.

Dak gives me a knowing grin. “You sound like you’re trying to sell me this place.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit.” I take him back to the breakfast nook, then snag a couple of his beers from the fridge. “By the way, you didn’t have to buy beer. Not that I’m complaining, but I already had some here.”

“I figured, since you didn’t ask me to bring anything, but I wanted you to try this. It’s local, small-batch . . . we just started serving it at the bar, and I’ve been pretty excited about it.”

I raise my eyebrows and smirk as I hand him a bottle opener. “Wow, you’ve turned into a connoisseur. I remember a time you’d drink any slop you could get your hands on.”

“You were right there drinking it with me,” Dak says, cracking his beer open. “And it was high school. Of course we weren’t gonna be picky. We didn’t know any better.”

“Speak for yourself. I knew it was horrible, I just wanted to get drunk more than I wanted to save my poor taste buds.” I open mine and take a drink. “You were right, this is good. Hey, you know what talking about bad beer reminds me of? Playing basketball with the guys in the parking lot on Sycamore.”

“Oh man, I haven’t thought about that in years. Yeah, we’d go there with Kyle and . . . Chet or Chad or whatever his name was, and all their brothers, and play until we got too sunburned and hungry to keep going. But we didn’t drink there.”