Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
THIRTY-FIVE FOREVER
Griffin
My day had run me over, backed up, and run me over again.
Reports stacked on my desk. The head of PR needed remarks reviewed for a morning show appearance. My inbox screamed for mercy.
I left it all behind anyway.
By noon I’d torn off my tie and folded back my sleeves. By three I’d paced a hole in my office floor. Now, not even six, I itched to get out.
I’d been crankier than usual. Snapping at people. For no good reason except one.
I needed to be home. With the people waiting for me there.
When I arrived, the penthouse seemed deserted.
“Theo?” I called, setting my keys in the tray. “Jessa?”
Nothing.
The place was spotless. Pillows fluffed on the couch. Counters gleaming. A faint citrus scent threading the air. It looked like a model home staged for a showing, not a place where a boy and his smart-mouthed nanny lived and played and left evidence of their existence.
I pulled out my phone.
Griffin: Just got home. Where are you two?
Three dots appeared.
Jessa: We’re here. But you have to find us. We have something for you.
I huffed. Half laugh, half growl.
Jessa: Find us
“Childish games,” I muttered. But my mouth kicked up, anyway.
Games. That’s what started all of this in the first place. If families across America didn’t play one of the hundred and fifty West Games available on the market today, I’d be standing in something much smaller than a penthouse.
I checked Theo’s room first. Empty bed, tidy desk, hockey stick propped in the corner. No kid. No nanny.
I crossed to my room. “Where are you?”
I opened my closet carefully. Half expected confetti to explode. My closet returned my smirk with rows of charcoal suits and starched shirts. No culprits.
Guest room next. Jessa’s room.
I paused in the doorway. We slept together every night in either hers or mine, but she’d made this room her own in small ways.
A framed photo sat on the dresser of Jessa between her sisters and her mom, their arms tangled with grins and bad lighting.
She’d told me once there was a criminal lack of family photos in my home.
That maybe it would be good for Theo to see life on the walls, not only on screens.
I’d added it to my mental list right then.
The room smelled of her. Soft. Clean. Some floral thing that made me think of spring.
A scrap of black lace lay folded on the dresser.
Lingerie.
My throat tightened. I didn’t have time for this kind of distraction. And yet here I was. Distracted. My palm braced the doorframe. My mind tried not to imagine that lace against her curves.
Her closet was closed. Bathroom too. I checked both. Empty.
“All right.” My voice bounced down the hall. “Where are you two?”
A giggle drifted from the far side of the penthouse. Then a shushed whisper. Then another giggle.
My irritation wanted to flare, but curiosity won.
I followed the sound to the fourth bedroom at the end of the corridor. A spare space we used for storage. The door was ajar. The room appeared empty at first glance, but whispers feathered from the closet.
I grinned and let my footsteps drum a little heavier, striding forward.
“Hmm. I wonder where you two could be.”
I yanked the door open.
“Found you—”
Balloons. A cascade of them burst forward, bouncing off my chest and floating to the ceiling. Pop! Confetti fell like glittering rain on my head.
I scowled. “What the—”
The bathroom door behind me flew open.
“Surprise!” they shouted together. I whirled around.
Theo held his phone with both hands in the air. Jessa stood behind him with a cake balanced in her palms. One candle burning.
Phone flashes fired like paparazzi. Theo danced from foot to foot. Jessa’s smile hit me like warm light.
I felt my scowl slip. “What is this?”
“It’s your birthday, Dad. Did you forget?”
No, I’d simply chosen to ignore it all day.
They launched into “Happy Birthday.” Theo added a loud “cha-cha-cha” after each line. By the last note, my bad mood had been swayed. I couldn’t help the grin.
Theo jumped up and down. “Blow out the candle!”
I glanced between them. “Thanks. I needed this.”
Her eyes laughed over the cake. “Hope you don’t mind only one candle instead of—how old are you now?”
“I bought the rights to be thirty-five forever,” I teased.
I made a wish before blowing it out.
“Yay! Cake and ice cream time!” Theo cried.
“Do we have any ice cream?”
“We put a gallon on the shopping list. And by ‘list’ I mean your black card.” Jessa winked.
I rolled my eyes and kissed the top of Theo’s head. “It really means a lot that you did this. I actually forgot it was my birthday.”
“We figured you might have,” Jessa purred. “But everybody deserves a special day. Even grumpy CEOs.”
“Especially grumpy dads,” Theo added.
We did cake. We did ice cream. We got frosting on the marble counters and cleaned it like responsible citizens.
Then Jessa announced, “Game night.”
Theo groaned. “Aw, no. Dad makes it miserable. He has to win everything.”
I scoffed. “That’s not true.”
She leaned against the couch, grinning. “Tell you what, Theo. I’ve been eyeing that collection of West Games over there on the shelves. You pick any game, and we’ll be a team against your dad. Think we can beat him?”
Theo perked up. Eyes narrowing at me like this was war. “Game on.”
I smirked. With years of game playing under my belt, they had no idea how ruthless I could be. “You’re both going down.”
Theo dug into the collection and came back with one of the oldest games from the early days of the company. Tower Trouble. A ridiculous mix of balance and strategy. You stacked and stole, traded and defended blocks of all sizes while making your way around the entire board.
“I recall the exact moment in my life when this game came to be.” I joined them on the living room floor. “My brothers and I and Sophie sat around the kitchen table with her mom. We sketched it out. Made up the rules. Decided how the game was won.”
On this day of all days, the memory hit me hard. Those years with Sophie’s mom were the ones I leaned on the most as my ideals of family life.
Now here I was. Playing the game with my son. And a woman who was starting to mean more to me than the piece of paper we’d signed, if I allowed myself to be honest.
“Tower Trouble is so cool,” Theo said, setting it up on the coffee table.
“I actually named this one, you know.” I smirked. “Dad wanted to name it Tumble Down.”
“Tower Trouble is way cooler.”
We tackled the game with gusto. The two of them together made formidable opponents, surprising me at every turn. Adorably, they’d head to the kitchen each play to strategize in whispers so I wouldn’t overhear.
When it came down to the final move, I had them cornered, smug as hell.
“I doubt you can beat that. But go ahead and try. I’ll wait.”
I leaned back against the front of the couch, hands folded behind my head. Cocky per usual.
Jessa turned to Theo, whispering. Suddenly she bolted upright.
“Wait a minute. We’re missing a piece. Why do you have one archer more than we do?”
“Huh?” I grabbed the box lid with all the contents and instructions. “Each team gets three archers, it says. Theo, did you lose a piece when you set it up?”
“No. It’s not my fault.”
We all counted. Sure enough, I had three archers on the board compared to their two.
“We’re missing a red archer. Where is it?” I grumbled.
Maybe I did take game playing too seriously.
Theo’s face turned red. His voice shook. “I didn’t lose it, Dad.”
“I’m not accusing you, son. No need to get worked up.”
“I’m sure it’s here somewhere. Let’s all look around,” Jessa said. Voice of reason between us.
That led to us searching the floor, the couch, the shelves, even the closet where I had more games stashed. Nothing came up.
Like father, like son, Theo and I both crossed our arms and glared.
“Remain calm.” Jessa stood with her hands up between us. “Let the nanny handle this. I think I have a solution.”
She disappeared into the kitchen.
“What is she doing?” Theo asked. His hands covered his eyes. I knew he was tearing up out of frustration. Sometimes the small things really got to him.
At what point in his young life had he become this way, when things didn’t go right and he couldn’t deal?
Even worse, it was a hard pill to swallow knowing I probably had the most influence on him. As a single father, I did the best I could. But there were times my patience wore thin. Trying to balance everything. Something I wasn’t proud of.
I vowed to do better. I had to. For him. For me. For the future.
We heard Jessa open the pantry cabinet and making all kinds of noise. Then she finally returned.
“Voila.” She placed a red rotini noodle where their red archer should be.
“A noodle?” I cocked a brow. “That’s your solution?”
“Yep. A red one, too.”
“We can’t play with noodles.” Theo’s potential temper tantrum simmered down to nothing more than a giggle.
“Sure we can.” She reached over and tickled him under the armpits, making his giggles last longer.
I couldn’t deny what I saw in front of me. She certainly had a way with him unlike any woman I’d seen before.
“My sisters and I could only ever afford used West Games from garage sales. Often they would come with missing pieces. So we got good at making our own out of dried noodles or bits of this and that,” she explained.
“I want to make a game out of noodles,” Theo said.
The news struck me hard.
Her family bought my company’s games used at garage sales. Because they couldn’t afford them new.
We priced each game at a premium on the market. Even with occasional sales, families hit with tough economic times would consider buying games a luxury. My argument over that had always been that board games were more educational and social for a family than video games.
But hearing it from Jessa. Knowing her family had to improvise with pasta. Something shifted deep inside of me.
I was engrossed in my own thoughts about how we could make our games more affordable as Theo carefully moved the pasta piece around the board. Treating it as if it were gold.
Then he shouted so loud the neighbors probably heard.
“We won! We actually beat Dad!”
I jerked my head and studied the board. Sure enough. I’d lost.
Theo jumped into Jessa’s lap. Pumping his fists.
I leaned back. Clapping slowly. Smile wide. Pride in my eyes.
“Not bad, kiddo. See what happens when you have patience and strategize? Good win.”
Theo beamed, soaking up my every word.
For a moment, with laughter echoing in the apartment and Jessa’s gaze catching mine across the living room, it felt like what I’d always imagined home should be.
We packed up the game and stood in the kitchen, talking and joking around, making an evening snack of air-popped popcorn. I stood there, surrounded by the domesticity of it all. When had playing the part started to feel less like an act and more like something I didn't want to lose?
Eventually, Jessa and Theo disappeared into the kitchen again, whispering and laughing over some secret project. Every time I tried to peek, they shooed me out like a kid interrupting Santa’s workshop.
I gave up, turned on the game, and let the noise fill the space. No meetings. No phones. Just the hum of the city beyond the glass and the muffled sound of their laughter carrying on the air.
It was my birthday, and for the first time in years, I didn’t want for a single thing.