Finding Perfect (Hopeless, #2.6)(11)

“Daniel?” he says.

“Yes, sir?”

“However this turns out...thank you.”

He hasn’t said a single word about our son, but I hear it all in that thank you. That has to mean our little boy is doing well and making them happy.

He hangs up after saying that.

And then I’m left with this emptiness. My God, it’s so heavy.

Being so close but still so fucking far away.

I take a seat on the patio chair again. Part of me wants to run inside and swing Six around and tell her everything that just happened. Every word of that conversation. But the realistic side of me knows that the conversation I just had might mean absolutely nothing. I may never hear from him again. And if I don’t, that means no matter how much I reach out to whoever I can reach out to, this couple’s decision is final. And we’re legally bound to accept that.

I bury my face in my hands because before this moment, I had hope that I could place in a lot of different areas. If one of my attempts didn’t work out, I knew I could try something else to find him.

But now, all our hope has been placed on this one conversation. This one man.

We’re in the middle of the biggest trial of our lives and we have a jury of one deciding our future.

“Hey.”

I wipe my eyes and look away from the front door Six just walked out of. I stand up, facing the opposite direction from her. I shove my phone in my pocket.

“Daniel? Are you crying?”

I run my hands under my eyes again “No. Allergies.” I turn and face her, plastering on the fakest smile I’ve ever given anyone.

“You don’t have allergies.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” She steps closer to me and puts her hands on my chest. Her eyes are filled with concern. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? You never cry.”

I take her face in my hands and I press my forehead to hers. I feel her arms snake around my waist. “Six, I tell you everything,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to talk about this. Not yet. Just give me time to process it, okay?”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I just had a moment and I need you to trust me.” I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight. “I’m hungry. I just want to eat all the food and hang out with you and my friends and not think about anything else today. I’m fine. I promise.”

She nods against my shoulder. “Okay. But I ruined the dressing, so pizza is on the way.”

I laugh. “I figured as much.”





Chapter Five


It’s been eight hours since the man called. I’ve checked my phone every five minutes for an email or a missed call or a text.

Nothing.

He didn’t say when he was going to talk to his wife. He might be waiting for the perfect moment. That could be weeks or months. Or maybe he already talked to her and she decided she didn’t want communication.

Maybe I’m going to spend the rest of my life looking down at my phone, waiting for them to contact me. I should have told him to at least tell me if they chose not to communicate with us. At least then I would have a definitive answer.

“Your turn, Daniel,” Jack says to me.

I rest my phone back on the table and roll the dice. I suggested we all play Monopoly when Jack and Karen got home earlier. I needed my mind to be on something else, but this game is so damn slow. Holder demands to be the banker because he doesn’t trust me and he counts everyone’s money three times.

I move my thimble and land on Park Place. “I’ll buy it,” I say.

“That’ll be three hundred and fifty dollars,” Holder says.

I pay him in fives because for some reason, it’s all I have. I watch him count it. Then he counts it again. He starts to put it in the tray, but then he picks up the wad of fives and starts to count them for a third time.

“Christ. Hurry the hell up,” I groan.

“Language,” Jack says.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

Holder stops counting the money. He’s just staring at me from across the table.

“You okay?” Six asks, concerned.

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “This game is just taking forever because Holder counts money like a blind mole.”

“Bite me,” Holder says as he resumes counting my money for the third time.

“Moles are actually blind, so saying blind mole is redundant,” Breckin says.

I turn my head and glare at him. “Shut up, Powder Puff.”

“Okay,” Holder snaps, grabbing the Park Place card back from me. “You’re done. Go home.”

I snatch the card back from him. “No, we aren’t finished. We’re finishing this damn game.”

“You’re making this not fun,” Sky says.

“Seriously,” Six says. She squeezes my leg under the table, a little forcefully. “Let’s take a break. We can go to my house and make out. That might make you feel better.”

That actually sounds way better and a lot more distracting than this stupid game. I toss my Park Place card on the center of the Monopoly board. “Good idea.”

“Good riddance,” Holder mutters.

I ignore them and walk toward the front door. Six apologizes on my behalf and that makes me feel like shit, but I don’t stop her. I’ll apologize to everyone tomorrow.