Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
preston
The only way to survive Mia Thorne is to take the lead. Give her room, and she turns me into a human cockpit, pressing buttons just to see which one sets me off.
“Do you want to take a look at the menu?” I offer it as a peace treaty. Anything to stop her poking at what’s left of my nerves. She doesn’t make a move to take it. She smiles, full wattage, making me wonder if she ever runs out of energy.
“No.” There goes my fleeting hope. “I want to know more about my new boss.”
She can’t be serious. “Do you expect me to recite my resume over dinner?”
“No.”
“Good.” Maybe there’s some common sense under all that mess, after all.
“You’re not really my boss.”
My chin ticks back, instinctive. Defensive, too. Did I just get demoted? “I’m not?”
“No. Lily is. Tell me about her.”
That I can do. For hours. “Lily is… the sun. Like I said in the car, she’s my own private sunshine.” I pause, choosing my words. “If I hadn’t been in the delivery room, I’d swear she’s not from this world. She’s just… too good. Too special. Definitely too evolved for a six-year-old.”
I’m not the most religious man, but Lily makes me believe in fate, in a higher power that has sent her to me. “I’m the dad. I’m supposed to be the teacher, right? But damn it, she’s the one handing out lessons. Humbling ones. Every single day.”
When I’ve had enough of staring at my empty plate and smoothing the napkin in my lap, I glance at Mia, and she’s grinning, delighted.
Salvation arrives in the form of April and Liam. We were just together a few minutes ago, so there’s no need for fanfare.
April slides in across from me, and the memory of her smelling my breath to see if I’ve been drinking is enough to curdle my mood.
The nerve. How dare she treat me like a drunk after everything we’ve been through?
She knows me too well and stares at me with a question mark on her face. “What’s wrong?” she whispers.
I answer as quietly, “Nothing. Let it go, Sherlock.”
“Bullshit,” she quips.
Fuck me, this is going to be a long night. But a public dinner table with Mia and Gunn isn’t the place to unpack April’s behavior earlier. Or her decision to plant a spy in my house.
I turn my attention to Liam and start small talk. We’re on much better terms now, considering that when we first met, I threatened to kill him if he ever hurt April. April is like a daughter to me, so I was just doing my fatherly duties.
The threat still stands. But now I know April’s got him by the balls and he’s not playing her like I once thought. He’s all in, and then some.
This time, captained by the ma?tre d’, the staff gang up on us.
We’re suddenly surrounded by four servers: one fills our glasses of water, two place a selection of hors d'oeuvres on the table—a gift from the chef.
The last one, who I can only assume is the house sommelier, stands poised with a bottle of champagne—another courtesy of the house, of course.
Liam nods and accepts it without hesitation or surprise, the pampered bastard.
The table shakes, and April shrieks before our glasses are filled all the way. She grabs her calf, and I tsk.
Liam pushes the whole table sideways, out of his way, to get to her lower leg. I grab Mia’s glass of water and mine before they tip and spill. A waiter standing guard catches theirs. Mia watches me with a curious expression, missing the joke.
I stay cool, watching Liam, who is now on his knees next to April, doting on her, reminding me of the lovesick fool I once was. Never again. But good for him—April deserves that. And the pain, too. I know damn well why she kicked the table.
“What happened, baby girl?”
I beat April to it, answering for her. Guess we’re airing dirty laundry in public after all.
“April thinks I’m a drunk. An out-of-control drunk who can’t handle seeing a bottle of alcohol on this table.”
Mia’s hand slides onto my thigh under the table, firm and anchoring. Only then do I realize my voice had climbed, and the tables around us are already turning to catch the drama.
Fuck’s sake. Her hand is a bit too high up my thigh for my comfort—or composure. Does she realize it, or am I imagining things? I swallow hard and sit perfectly still, torn between wanting her to stop and dreading that she might. Truth is, I’m not even sure what I’m wishing for.
I should move her hand. I don’t. And that’s on me.
I force a calmer tone. “April was aiming for your calf when she kicked the table instead.” Sipping my water, I look her dead in the eye, and ask, “Right, A?”
Leaning back, I feel Mia’s hand start to move. Light, measured strokes up and down. A ‘calm down’ move.
It has the exact opposite effect. My pants grow tighter, but I don’t blame myself. No man alive would remain unaffected by her touch.
She taps my thigh a couple of times—probably congratulating me for my restraint towards April.
Ha. If she only knew. She should be applauding me for not grabbing her hand and showing her exactly what she’s doing to me.
“I don’t think you’re a drunk,” April says quickly, sitting up straighter, pride swallowed along with her pain.
She glances at Liam, still massaging her leg, then pokes his shoulder. “It’s called being sensible. Sensitive to the ones we love.”
“That’s me,” Liam says, dry. “Sensible. Please, baby girl. I get along with the guy; love is pushing it.”
I address Mia now. “Mia, despite what April thinks, I’m not an alcoholic. I was going through a rough patch, sure. And yes, I went on a bender. Many benders. But that’s behind me. I haven’t had a drink in weeks, and I’m fine.”
I lift my glass of water and plaster on a smile. “Go on, take a picture. Calista’s going to want proof when you tattle later.”
Low blow. I know. But I’m tired of being watched, judged, and handled twenty-four-seven by those two.
“Whose idea was it to plant someone in my house to keep tabs on me?” I tilt my head sideways, slow and sarcastic.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I pause for a breath.
“I didn’t ask you to come back from the UK and then give you my job just to break your trust like that.
Give me a break. And maybe give me an actual shot while you’re at it. ”
I lean back, jaw tight. Liam steps in before April says something that’ll really set me off.
We love like family, we fight like family.
“Come on, Jett. You know she’s just looking after you. She worries.” Her fiancé finally goes back to his seat and holds her hand now. Fuck me, they’re cute together. So annoying.
“I’m a forty-three-year-old man, Gunn. I don’t need anyone worryin—”
Mia chokes on her water and coughs a lung out. “Y-you’re forty-three?” She dabs her chin with a napkin. “Sorry, it’s just… you don’t look that old.”
I scoff. “Thank you. Now I feel even older.” It’s Liam’s turn to choke and cackle at my expense. “As if you’re that far behind, asshole,” I remind him.
“This is not the place I wanted to have this conversation, but since we already started it…” I turn my full attention to April, who’s looking as guilty as she should. “A, I called you because my life was falling apart and I needed my best friend by my side. You get that, right?”
Her hand reaches across the table to grab mine. “Of course I do. And I jumped on the first plane to be here for you.”
“That she did,” a sulking Liam grumbles, and April elbows him in the ribs.
“I trusted you with my position at the hospital, with whom to leave my kid with.” I glance at Mia, still not fully trusting. “Sorry, Mia. You used to be Liam’s PA, right?”
“Yeah,” she answers, sounding suspicious as hell.
“And before that, did you used to be a nanny?”
She glances at Liam and April for backup. I cut the moment dead before either of them can jump in.
“And yet, April thought you’d be perfect for the job.
” I stare at April again. “You’re going to look me in the eyes, and honestly say you didn’t choose her so she could keep an eye on me while she watches over my daughter?
Don’t bullshit me. I don’t have the patience for it today.
” I put down my water glass, afraid I’ll break the delicate crystal.
Mia’s hand lands on my arm, and a jolt shoots straight through me. I pull away on instinct. I slide my chair an inch back, creating space without making a bigger scene. She shakes out her hand and recovers faster than I do. “I practically raised my little brother, if that helps.”
Of course, Trouble would step in. Of course, Trouble would defend April with that smile and her fucking hand on my arm, that sent me over the edge.
“Oh yeah? And how did he turn out?”
She shrugs, sheepish. “He’s alive?” She giggles at herself, but I’m a resentful son of a bitch, and it’s my turn not to laugh at her lousy joke.
April interjects to defend both herself and Mia. “Jett, I chose Mia because she’s been working for Liam for years, and if she could tolerate his sour ass, she can survive you too.”
Liam and I exchange acknowledging looks.
We’re not the easiest men, I’ll give April that.
“You’ve fired the last three nannies Calista and I chose, none for a legitimate reason.
” She lifts a brow, daring me to challenge her.
I won’t give her the pleasure, no matter if she has a point or not.
“Mia is someone we can trust. I’m sure Lily will love her, and at the end of the day, those are the things that matter.
So, suck it up and deal with the cards you’ve been dealt.
They’re the results of your actions, of your poor choices. ”
Leave it to April to come up with reasonable, sound arguments. I hate her brain right now. So inconvenient.
April carries on loudly, “We’re going to order food, have a wonderful time, and that will be it. Everyone got it?” Liam and I do a poor job at suppressing our laughter at the tiny human bossing everyone around. At least I pretend to cough.
“Excuse me, get your hands off me.”
I hear Callie before I see her—storming through the restaurant, a woman on a mission. Loud, dramatic, and absolutely loving it.
“Calista is joining us?” I ask.
Just kill me now. With that butter knife. It will be less painful than this dinner.