Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SALVATORE
The room buzzes as the morning rush moves around me. The rich smell of coffee tickles my nose, and I fight the urge to have another cup. I’ve already had three and it’s only nine a.m. If I have another one before I get to the office, I’ll be bouncing off the walls.
My eyes flit between the news on my phone and the entrance to the restaurant as I wait for my daughter, Paige, and the moment I see her, I smile.
Like always, I stand as she approaches, waiting until she sits down opposite me—her face in her phone until the very last second. “Sorry, it’s been a morning. How are you?”
She grins softly, but her weary expression has my chest tightening. “Everything okay? How’s Isaac?”
Her grin lifts into a sassy smile, and I preemptively roll my eyes.
Am I obsessed with my grandchild? Yes. I can’t help it.
He’s a perfect little human who came into my life when I was least expecting it, and now, I wish I could spend every day getting to know him properly.
Paige and Isaac’s dad, Easton, got together when Isaac was three, and at the time, he only had Easton’s mom when it came to grandparents.
Now he’s got me, and I’m making sure I uphold my grandfather duties to the nth degree.
“Isaac is good,” Paige reassures me. “I promise.”
“Good to hear. What about you?” I stare at her pointedly and she laughs.
“I come in second now?”
“Yep. I’m not going to lie. Sorry, Kid.” I hold back a smile for as long as possible, but when Paige jokingly pouts, I chuckle. She feels the same. As soon as Isaac bounced into her life, he was her number one priority. Even Easton knows he’s second in her eyes, and he’s more than happy with that.
“You know, I think you’re number one in his eyes too,” Paige interrupts my thoughts. “You and Rochelle.” Easton’s mom. “Equal firsts.”
“That’s because we spoil him. What Isaac wants, Isaac gets.”
Paige glares and another laugh rumbles out of me. “Within reason, obviously.” For her sake not his.
“Obviously.” Paige shakes her head.
If it was up to me, I’d give him the world.
I was always controlled with Paige and her brother, Marc.
I wanted them to learn the importance of hard work despite the fact that they were born with silver spoons in their mouths.
Who am I kidding; their spoons were 24 karat gold with diamond-encrusted handles. They had it all.
But they had to give back too. And while Paige is much better at it, I’m still pleased to say that both of them have grown into generous and kind adults.
Though Marc has some questionable personality traits.
Namely his inability to take anything seriously and his constant need to be liked by all.
In Marc’s case, there’s such a thing as too generous.
Otherwise known as being irresponsible with money.
“Anyway, back to my number two.”
“If I’m number two, does that make Marc number three?”
“On a good day, yes.”
“And on a bad day?”
“Your mother rises above him.”
Paige covers her mouth before she laughs out loud. Her mother and I talk often, despite divorcing over ten years ago due to my inability to put my family above my work.
I’m the first to admit it took me far too long to see the problem, and by the time I did, I’d lost them all. Paige wouldn’t speak to me, and Marc only called when he needed something. I was what you’d call a poor excuse of a father.
Luckily, I’ve been given a second chance with Paige, and I’m working on things with Marc.
I’d deluded myself into believing I was giving them everything. I made sure they never went without and protected them with all that I had. Only I failed to give them my time or attention. These days, I’d like to think that I’m better, but I still have my moments.
“You know I’m going to tell Marc you said that.”
“He knows. He never calls me anymore. Apparently, your mom is giving him extra attention now that you’re living here permanently.
I’ve been forgotten.” I pout. Paige knows I’m joking.
At least about playing favorites. I wish I was joking about the fact that Marc never calls. Or answers my calls or texts.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Paige’s light expression morphs into one of concern, and I wave her off.
“Don’t be. He’ll come back when he wants something.” I wink, hoping to lighten the mood. I was supposed to be finding out the cause of her stressful morning, not talking about me. “Enough about your brother. You were going to tell me what’s going on with you.”
“I was?”
“You were. Please.”
“Okay. But you’re not allowed to help. This is something I have to figure out for myself.”
My lips thin in contemplation and Paige notices, raising an eyebrow until I agree. “Fine. But you know I hate when you ask me to stay out of it.”
“I do.” She grins not so innocently. “And if you must know, Easton wants me to consider publicly showing my art.”
“That’s great—” My eyes light up until Paige shakes her head with a frown. “That’s great…coffee over there. Have you tried it?”
Her eyes roll toward the ceiling at my attempt to change my response, before she sighs. “I know he means well. But it’s a big deal, Dad. One I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
“What about…” I trail off when she tilts her head, her eyes pleading with me not to get involved. And God, it’s a struggle. “What about you have some breakfast while we’re here?” I once again change the topic, blowing out a breath when Paige smiles in thanks.
“Maybe I will. If you’re paying.”
“Deal.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime. You know that, Kid.”
She nods, her appreciative smile confirming that she’s aware I’m not talking about breakfast. I’d do anything for her, if only she’d let me.
My afternoon is significantly less chaotic than the coffee shop was, and I’m grateful for the peace. Yet, it’s now eight p.m. and I’m still in my office. Just like every other night.
You’d think I was avoiding my apartment. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s an exact argument I had with my ex over and over. “Are you spending all your time in the office because you don’t want to be here? You don’t want to spend time with me and the kids. Is that it?”
It wasn’t.
I always made Camilla out to be the bad guy, making her feel like she was the one causing issues in our relationship.
That it was her fault. All because I refused to accept responsibility.
To accept the truth. The truth being that I’m a workaholic.
And I mean that in the sense of being addicted to working.
If I miss a day for whatever reason, I get anxious.
It’s a huge problem that I didn’t see until it was too late.
But I’m working on it. At least, I’m trying.
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my ankles beside my desk, angling my body so I can stare out the window. Through the darkness, I can just make out the lightning bolt logo on the field, and a small smile tugs at my lips. I own this fucking team. I own the San Francisco Storm.
I made my ten-year-old self’s dream come true, and I’m goddamn proud of that.
Sure, I’ve aged dramatically since deciding I could do this and keep my business running in New York. I’ve also never felt younger.
Or happier.
I’ve got Paige back in my life, my beautiful grandson, and?—
A loud clang breaks into my thoughts and I pause, listening out for a follow-up noise.
When it happens again, I’m out of my chair so fast, I cover the distance to my door in record time, throwing it open as my muscles tense.
“What’s— Keeley? Are you okay?” She startles at the sound of my voice, spinning to face me, her perfectly manicured eyebrows arched in annoyance.
“I’m fine. Or at least, I’d be fine if this stupid door didn’t jam all the time.” She blows out a breath, and I watch her glossed lips until she sucks them into her mouth.
“Do you need help?” My gaze shifts back to her eyes.
“No. I’ve got it.” She pushes the door open and flattens her palm against the frame, yanking the door so hard that the lock clicks into place. “Finally. See?”
She turns to face me again, a satisfied light brightening her eyes, and I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
“I never doubted you for a second.” I raise my hands in innocence, and her gentle laughter fills the air, filling me with warmth like it always does.
Keeley’s another big contributor to my happiness. She’s been a godsend since we met on my first day, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. I’m praying I never have to find out.
What started as a bubbly social media liaison willing to help out the new man on campus has led to a friendship unlike any I’ve had before.
If I go a day without seeing her, it’s been a bad one.
She’s the first I call when I need to talk something out and the only person I trust to give me an honest answer—my opinionated daughter aside.
Keeley’s my rock, and I’ll forever be grateful for that first day she hid in my office.
“Why are you here so late on a Tuesday? I thought you went home,” I ask, taking a step closer.
“I did. I took a couple of hours off this morning to take Mom to an appointment. I was going to let myself have the time off without making it up, since I’ve well and truly earned it.
But when I was sitting around at home, doomscrolling and being hit with far too many reels on anti-aging products, I decided to come back, needing to catch up on a few things I missed ahead of the sponsorship meeting tomorrow. ”
“You know you must have clicked on something about anti-aging for them to start showing you reels.”
“I do. And I did. I was curious about my skin-care routine. I’ve been noticing more fine lines lately and I wanted to get ahead of it.” She frowns as she pats the skin beside her eyes.
“Never one to let anything catch you off guard, are you?” I bite back a smirk, and Keeley’s infectious laughter returns, making the lines on her face more prominent on her high cheekbones, still looking as perfect as ever.
I can’t imagine anyone suggesting Keeley needs anti-aging anything. Least of all me.
She tucks her deep red hair behind one ear as her laughter softens to a smile, the dip of her dimples drawing me in.
“You know me. I’m always one step in front of the ball. I even knew you’d be here.” She points my way and I feign shock.
“Really? And yet, you jumped when I called out.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t expect you to throw open the door like that.”
“I heard a crash; I was worried.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
“So…you came running to save me?”
“I didn’t know it was you specifically.”
“Fair enough. Are you going to be here much longer?”
“Probably. You?”
“A couple of hours.”
“My office or yours?”
“Always yours.” Keeley’s quick to respond, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I call dibs on the couch.”
“As I’ve said many times before, you are missing out. My desk chair is like a cloud on your back.”
“I know. And ergonomically tested.” She bounces her eyebrows, and a chuckle bubbles out of me. I’ve clearly talked about this chair often.
“Get in my office. I’ll grab us some snacks.” I smirk as I walk past her and she waves, singing her thanks as she glides toward my door.
“Don’t come back without chocolate,” she calls out, and I wave over my head without turning around.
“I never do.” Does she think I don’t know her by now?