The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(29)

“No luck about it. Allison's just the perfect kid.” Deadpan.

Whoa, back it up there, mister. Isn't there some unwritten rule that you can't call your own kid perfect out loud unless you’re using deep sarcasm? Before I had to think of a response our waitress came with our food and the hot sake we’d ordered. I think some of Alex’s meal was still alive.

He picked up his chopsticks. “So, what do you like to do for fun, Laney?”

“Oh, you know, work and take care of my kid mostly. That’s when I’m not flying off in my private jet to Aruba, of course.” I popped a California roll in my mouth. Yum.

Alex shook his head and swallowed his bite. “You’ve got to make time for yourself. You should take up running. It's great cardio.”

Was he calling me fat? “Running and I don't really mix.” You can only get hit in the face with your own boobs so many times before you have to call it a day. “I like hiking, though, but it's hard to take a five-year-old. Rocco’s ready to turn around thirty steps in,” I tried to joke again.

“Allison loves hiking. We also do a lot of biking together.”

I’m sure she does. And I’m sure your bike shorts are even tighter than your pants. “That sounds like fun for you guys.” My appetite was quickly fading. I took a large sip of my sake instead.

“It is. She’s really advanced for her age.” He took a bite of what looked like a tentacle.

Of course she is. This date was officially over. Why did he need to date me when he had the perfect girl at home? “Well if I can get Rocco to sleep in his own bed by the time he's ten I'll count it as a win on my end,” I ground out as I searched in vain for our waitress.

Completely misinterpreting my mood, he continued, “My ex and I employed a nurturing concept called the ‘family bed.’ Allison sleeps with me to this day.”

Aaaand there’s that. I was beginning to understand the cause of his divorce—and also the reason Allison was an only child.

“You should embrace Rocco’s desire for closeness,” he persisted.

I downed the rest of my sake.

Check, please.



“So it didn't go great?” Fiona asked, looking disappointed.

I don’t know what gave it away, my scowl or my complete deflation onto the couch, vagina dress splayed around me. I was surprised to see Gavin in the recliner, leaning back in the same jeans and t-shirt he’d had on when I left. I thought he’d be three sheets to the wind by now at Jake’s.

“Obviously,” he contributed. “That guy was a douchecanoe.”

I couldn’t rally myself to protest. “Is it judgy of me to find it creepy that he prefers sleeping in the same bed as his seven-year-old?”

Fiona’s expression crumpled with revulsion while Gavin’s remained steady. “Dating that twatwaffle could only end in a smartphone full of dick pics. Consider it a bullet dodged and move on.”

“Eww,” Fiona and I simultaneously pronounced.





Chapter Eleven





Well, This Is Awkward





NATE

I hadn’t given up. Several days of flirty texting but no date accepted, I still had my ace in the hole with a tentative Saturday plan to resume work on her house.

Nate: Krispy Kreme again or should I go for Granny’s?

Laney: Oooh. Tough choice. Surprise me.

And just like that I had my confirmed invitation to come over tomorrow. It was Friday afternoon and I had to swing by my parents’ house to get my dad’s signature on a few documents. I hadn’t seen him in about a week so I was looking forward to checking out his progress in person. My mom had told me over the phone that he was making her crazy trying to be too active and he was chomping at the bit to start driving again. That sounded about right.

She was also still on her kick to find him a hobby. Bailey had brought over a few jigsaw puzzles earlier in the week, as requested by our mom, and it had not gone over well. Some words were exchanged about nursing homes and bingo, and an alternative—and quite creative—suggestion was made as to where to put the puzzles. Bailey’s visit didn’t last long.

When I arrived, I let myself in the front door and was surprised to see that Bailey was back as well. Clearly a glutton for punishment.

“I thought you had an appointment this afternoon,” I said.

“Canceled,” she replied, chugging a coffee from Starbucks like it was her life’s blood.

“Does Mom know you brought caffeine in the house?”

“I distracted her when I came in the door so I got away with it.”

“How’d you do that?!” I had continued to get the pat down each time I entered the house.

“There he is!” exclaimed my mother, entering the hallway and consuming me in a giant hug. “My Nathan.”

Looking over my mom’s shoulder at Bailey, I spotted my conniving little sister’s shit-eating grin instantly. She just shrugged her shoulders and mouthed, “Sucks to be you.” I flipped her off immediately.

I was way too familiar with this look from Bailey. It was the same one she got each time she finagled her way out of trouble by throwing me under the bus. I’d spent many nights as a teenager, grounded in my room, plotting revenge on Bailey for just this kind of shit. It didn’t matter that I actually had been smoking weed behind the garage or sneaking out my bedroom window to go out late—it was the principle of the thing. I’d been pretty successful with a few of my revenge strategies, the best one being the time I got the whole school to call her “Sabrina” for most of her freshman year. It was short for “Sabrina the Teenage Bitch” and the best part was that it could be used in front of teachers—it pissed Bailey off in the worst way. Ah, good times.