“Sounds good. Try not to work too hard, Benji.” With a smirk that I know is sure to drive him nuts, I gather my purse and walk out of his office with Brody laughing as he follows.
I grab a can of tomato sauce and hand it to Brody. “Wanna invite your dad for dinner?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not speaking to him,” he says, sounding very much like the surly teenager he is.
“You spoke to him during lunch.”
He rolls his eyes. “That was about Batman. Besides, he’d say no anyway. He works twenty-four seven. He won’t really be by to get me at six. More like nine or ten. I have a key, though, so I can go home any time. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You sound like you hate his job, yet you told me you want to work there.”
He glances at me and shrugs. “I figure if I’m there to help, he won’t have to work so much. There’ll be two people doing the work instead of one.”
Oh boy, I’d bet Ben has no idea how his son feels.
Brody’s phone rings from his pocket, but he ignores it, continuing to push the buggy down the aisle.
“I think your phone has rang a dozen times since we left your dad’s office. It’s not your dad calling, is it?” I grab some dough for the pizza we’re going to make and drop it into the buggy.
“No. It’s my mom.”
“Ahh. So, I take it, you’re not speaking to her either?” Until now, I haven’t heard a single word about his mom.
Brody fidgets, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “We got into it…” His eyes drop to his feet. “I got in trouble at school… and I…” He clears his throat, still refusing to look at me. “I don’t get along with Ted… He’s a dick.” He lifts his head, and something about the way he looks at me makes my chest tighten. “She had enough of my shit, so my dad moved home and moved me in with him.”
I ignore his foul language. “Okay, that explains why you’re not talking to her…” We’ll get back to that later. There’s obviously more to that situation. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re giving your dad a hard time.” I toss a container of cherry tomatoes at him, and he sets it in the buggy.
“He only asked me to move in with him because my mom made him. Can we get mushrooms? I love mushrooms on pizza.”
“Sure.” I snag a container and hand it to him. “I don’t think anyone can make your dad do anything he doesn’t want to do.” I’ve only known him for barely a minute, and I can already tell that about him.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “He doesn’t even want to live here.”
“Yet, he is living here… So why are you trying to push him away?”
“I’m not.” He scoffs.
“Yes, you are.” I stop in the middle of the produce section and look at Brody. “I was raised in a foster home, so I’ve seen it a million times. The smoking, the skipping, the attitude… You’re pushing your dad to see if he’ll stick or run.”
“He never stays!” Brody barks. “He always leaves. Might as well get it over with now.”
Ding. Ding. Ding.
“And then where will you go? Back to your mom’s?”
He blanches, as if he hadn’t thought of that.
“I’m not going back there. I’d rather live on the streets.”
Whoa, okay then…
“You’d rather live on the streets than live with your mom?”
“Than live with Ted,” he spits.
“Who’s Ted? Your stepdad?”
“My mom’s fiancé. I hate him.”
“Okay, so you hate him, and you don’t want to live with your mom. That leaves your dad. Do you want to live with your dad?”
“Yeah, but he’s going to leave. I’m telling you… he always does.”
“One thing I’ve learned from being in foster care is that we can’t control others. We can only control ourselves. Maybe your dad’s here for good…” He opens his mouth to argue, so I raise my hand to stop him. “Maybes he’s not. But while he’s here, maybe you should try to give him the benefit of the doubt… get to know him, let him see the good in you instead of trying to push him away. Maybe he’ll prove you wrong and stick around.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“Then it’s his loss. Because I’ve only just met you and I already know you’re worth sticking around for.” I grab a container of pineapple and toss it to him.
“Eww, pineapple?”
“Best pizza topping ever.”
Chapter Five
Benjamin
I can’t think. Can’t focus. I’m trying like hell to get some work done, and my only thought is Savannah fucking Cartwright. She and her Southern accent and her goddamn sass are going to be the death of me. Between her messing with my workout routine, undermining me in my own office, and giving me attitude when I confronted her, she has my head spinning every which way.
Most women would’ve jumped at the chance to fuck me. But not her. She gave that shit right back and then walked away, shaking those delectable hips of hers. And of course my son likes her. If I’m honest, I’m a little jealous of the way they get along. As if they’ve known each other for years when they only met a few days ago. The kid is mad at the world, but not at her…
While we were eating lunch, she even got him to talk to me for a few minutes, something he hasn’t done in a long time. When we were done discussing our favorite movies, the remainder of lunch was spent with the two of them talking about random shit, laughing and joking. Without him even realizing he was doing it, he opened up to her. Through their conversation, I learned more about my son than he’s given me since he moved in. He hates going to a new school because he misses his friends and knows nobody there, which is hard for a freshman who’s been going to school with the same kids his entire life. Their football team sucks, so he doesn’t want to play. There’s a girl he has a crush on, but he’s not sure if she feels the same way. Of course, Savannah told him to go for it and gave him advice on how to go about it—in person and with her favorite flowers. The woman is obviously a romantic.
I put a call into his private school, and with a donation that could probably buy them a new damn wing, they’ve agreed to let Brody back in on academic probation. I’m planning to tell him tonight—and hopefully win some points.
When I eye the clock and see it’s just after four, and I’m clearly not going to get anything else accomplished today, I shut everything down and head out early—something I don’t think I’ve ever done before.
I stop by my dad’s office to see him, but when I ask his secretary if he’s available, she tells me he’s in a meeting. I shoot him a text, letting him know I stopped by and that we should do lunch soon to discuss our upcoming projects. It seems like since I’ve been home, aside from the one lunch Amalia insisted on, I haven’t seen much of him lately.