I slide a stack of paper into the printer before collapsing in my desk chair. It spins in a slow circle as I close my eyes.
There are only a few things I dislike about my job, the main one being the piles of paperwork that collect in my office over the span of a few days. Employee schedules, equipment and item orders, and lesson plans that need approval are only a few examples of what lies across my desk, some covered in red pen while others remain untouched.
Banks has been a massive help since I hired him last year, but there are some jobs that I only trust myself to do correctly. Ava calls it obsessive; I call it wanting to be sure things are done right. It’s not that I don’t trust Banks to do those jobs—if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have hired him in the first place—but I just trust myself to do them better. It’s my company, after all. For lack of better words, WIT is like my second child. Nobody knows better when it comes to how the company works than I do.
That’s why I’m still in my office at half past four instead of picking my son up from an after-school jazz band practice. After making a mad-dash call to Oakley once I realized I wasn’t going to be done in time, he was able to convince his three kids to get McDonald’s after school to wait for Cooper to finish practice and to bring him home after. There most likely wasn’t much convincing needed, but nevertheless, I’m grateful.
It would be easy enough to just bring my work home with me, but that’s something I’ve refused to do since I started this business. My parents brought their jobs home with them, and it separated our family. Tore it apart like thin paper and left the shredded pieces scattered on the always waxed, glistening tile floors of my childhood home.
If I have to spend an extra couple of hours in the office in exchange for a sit-down meal around the kitchen table with my son, where I can hear about his day and whatever gossip a twelve-year-old has to spill, I’ll pick slaving away in my office any day.
I scrub a hand down my face and blow out a breath that feels as tight as my chest when my cell phone rings from inside my desk drawer. My head is in the clouds when I pull it out and answer the call without looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
Tyler’s smoky laugh scratches my ear. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Trying to catch up on paperwork. I meant to text you after the game last night, but you guys were phenomenal. The Warriors are making the conference finals this year, no question.”
And they deserve it. After losing Oakley the season prior, they were in shambles. It’s a miracle they’re even making a run for the cup this season at all. Most fans expected it to take another few seasons to rebuild the team to a level that could compete again.
“Thanks. That’s the goal, anyway. Got to keep a level head about it still. You know what happens to me when I get a fat ego.”
I laugh. “Yeah, you end up slumming it on the third pairing for half of the season. You’re a franchise player now, Ty. First pairing or no pairing.”
“You sound like my wife.”
“Great minds,” I note.
He clears his throat. “Speaking of my wife, you’re for sure coming to her birthday party, right?”
“Oh, sorry. Did I forget to send a formal RSVP, your majesty?” I tease.
“You did.” He’s as blunt as always.
I grin and drag the tip of my red pen over next week’s schedule, doodling like a kid bored in class. Scarlett’s name is in thick black lettering at the top of the page beside her next few shifts, and suddenly, she’s at the forefront of my mind again.
I tap the pen on my desk. “Of course I’m coming. Free beer and a boat ride on the ocean? How could I pass that up?”
“See, that’s what I told Gray. We might be old as fuck now, but beer, food, and a good time will win us over every time.”
“Being older just means we can afford the good shit. I don’t remember the last time I had the cheap beer we drank in college.” I shiver at the memory of the—for all intents and purposes—beer-flavoured water we would fill our kegs with.
God, it was so much worse in a keg in the sun than it was if we kept it chilled in the fridge. At least if it was cold, it was harder to tell how flavourless it was.
“Cheap beer and expensive wine stolen from your parents’ cellar. Those were the days.” Tyler sighs.
“You know, somehow, my father always found out about the missing wine. It was never the party he cared about or the puke in the backyard. It was that damn wine where he drew the line.” I laugh. “Thinking back on it now, that’s definitely why I kept offering it to everyone like it was water from the tap.”
“Of course that’s why. Your dad was just as big of a prick back then as he is now. Honestly, we should have just drained the whole cellar while we were at it. The asshole deserved it.”
“You’re right,” I agree.
“Speaking of the wrinkled fuck, have you talked to him recently? Are your parents coming to the fair?”
The fair is a yearly event put on by WIT at the end of each hockey season to celebrate the successes of all my clients. We rent a couple of carnival rides, hire performers, and pig out at the food stands. Brielle has done the majority of the planning this year, with it set to take place on the last weekend of July.
“Hopefully not. There’s no reason for them to show up,” I say.
A high-pitched scream sounds in the background of the call before Tyler yells, “Oliver! Did you really just put gum in your brother’s hair? Right in front of me? Where did you even get gum?”
“Mommy’s purse,” the six-year-old replies sheepishly.
“Are we supposed to be digging around in Mommy’s things, Oli?”
A pause. “No, Dad.”
“Go apologize to your brother while I find and tell your mom why we need to shave Jamieson’s head.”
“You good, man?” I ask once the call goes silent.
He snorts a laugh. “I thought one kid was hard. Oh, how naive I was.”
“At least Oli has a friend to grow up with.”
“Yeah, so instead of one devil, I get two—ow!” There’s a rustling noise in the speaker before Gracie’s voice greets me. “Yes, Tyler. Go get the razor, and then you can try your best at shaving our poor two-year-old’s beautiful head of curls.”
“Me? You mean us, right?” Tyler asks in the background.
Gracie scoffs. “Oh no. I mean you. I’m not going to let him hate me for this.”
“But you’ll let him hate me?”
“I would prefer him to hate neither of us, but if those are my only two options. Sorry, babe.”
I bite my lip to avoid laughing and pull the phone from my ear before turning it to speakerphone and placing it on my desk. It’s still hard to believe that just ten years ago, Tyler was pretending not to care about Gracie while she was blatantly pining over him. It was the typical brother’s best friend drama that kept them apart but with some bad-boy commitment issues thrown into the mix.
They’re both the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, but somehow, it worked out in the end. A happy marriage and two beautiful children can account for that.
“Adam?” Gracie calls.
I lean my elbows on the edge of my desk. “Hey, Gray.”
“Oh, please don’t call me that. I found a grey hair this morning. Luckily it was only one, but I’m forever scarred. I’m being aged right before my own eyes.”
“Did you rip it out?”
“I did. Imagine if Oakley had seen it. I would never have lived it down,” she guffaws.
The devil on my shoulder grins wickedly. “Actually, I have it on good authority that your brother pulled out his first grey hair last year. Ava swore me to secrecy, but I’m willing to take a risk here.”
“That dirty cheat. He told me just the other day that he was positive he would never go grey.”
I click my tongue. “Naughty boy.”
“Thank you for giving me just the ammunition I need the next time he tries to rile me up. I want to say that I owe you one now, but I actually made Tyler call you today in hopes of sooomehow prying a favour of sorts out of you.”
My interest piques. “Oh? Gracie Bateman asking little old me for a favour? This must be good.”
She laughs. “Well, actually, it’s more of a plea than a favour.”
“Well, come on. I’m not getting any younger.” Quite the opposite, really.
“You know, with my birthday party coming up this weekend and me turning thirty and all, I was really hoping that I would get to meet this Scarlett woman. For personal reasons, obviously,” she rushes out, breathless by the end of her ramble.
“Personal reasons?” I chuckle. The only thing personal in that request was in regards to my own personal life. There’s only one person who would have gushed to my friends all about my relationship—or lack thereof—with Scarlett, and he is in for a hefty water gun soaking once I get home today. “Let me guess. Cooper?”
A beat of silence before a burst of Gracie’s voice scrapes my eardrum. “Maybe. But that doesn’t matter! What matters is that you bring her to my party. I promise not to bombard her or scare her away. Just imagine how much fun she’ll have on a private yacht, on the Pacific Ocean, under the delicious rays of the summer sun.”
I run a hand over the top of my head and swallow the knot in my throat. Would I want Scarlett to come meet my friends? Absolutely. But Cooper is already my plus one, and bringing the both of them together smells a lot like a set-up. Do I want to put them in a position where they can really get to know each other? Where Cooper can start building a relationship with someone who might not be around long term?
“It’s not as simple as that, Gray. Cooper will be there.”
She scoffs. “And what’s so bad about that? From what he told Maddox, he seems to really like her.”
Ah, so it was gossip with Oakley and Ava’s oldest spawn, then. That can only mean that his parents have quite the rundown as well.
“I don’t want him building a bond with anyone I’m not sure will be here for a long time. The last thing he needs is to feel any form of abandonment again like he did with Beth. It wouldn’t be good for him,” I say. My words hang uncomfortably in the silence that follows.
Gracie softens her voice. “Those are all valid points, Adam. But what about you? Are you just supposed to be alone forever?”
I flinch. “I would prefer not to be. But Cooper comes first. You know that.”
“I know this is more Ava’s domain and we don’t really talk much about this sort of thing, but Adam, if you feel something for this woman, you owe it to yourself to explore that. Cooper wants you to be happy. We all do.”
My stomach folds in on itself. I’ve lost the ability to pretend that I don’t have feelings for Scarlett. If even my twelve-year-old son can see it, it’s too obvious that I do.
“Having feelings and actually exploring those feelings are completely different ball games.”
She sighs, sounding reluctant. “Just invite her to the party. Cooper will be busy with the kids, and it’ll be the perfect opportunity to spend more time with her in a non-intimate setting.”
“Okay.” I give in. My pulse quickens at the possibility of spending time with Scarlett. “I’ll invite her. But I’m not promising anything. She could already have plans.”
Gracie squeals. “Oh my gosh, yay! I’ll add her to the guest list just in case.”
There’s a knock on my office door that has it opening the tiniest bit. I look down at the watch on my wrist and frown at the time. Nobody should still be here.
“Hey, Gray. I gotta go. I’ll keep you posted, okay?”
“Sounds good. Take care, Adam. Love you!”
“Love you too,” I reply before hanging up and locking my phone screen. The door pushes open completely, and I go rigid when I see a mess of red curls.
Oh fuck.
