My Father's Best Friend Read online

  I knew where this was going. As much as I wanted to meet a nice man, there was one person who wanted it to happen even more. Yep. My mother.

  “I haven’t had the chance to get to know any of the teachers that well.”

  She shrugged. “You’ve looked them over, right? Are any of them cute?”

  “No,” I slowly said. “But I do have a date this weekend.”

  Her eyes lit up like fireworks. “Lanie, that’s wonderful! With whom?”

  “This guy named Andrew. He works in investment, and he’s nice. We spent a little time together at this art show last weekend.”

  “And he’s cute?”

  “Very,” I admitted, doing my best to check my smile. There was a fine line when it came to dishing on guys with a parent. Mom probably didn’t care if it was crossed, but I certainly did.

  “So he has a good job.” Mom nodded. “And he’s attractive. He doesn’t have a secret wife, does he?”

  “Not that I know of.” I laughed.

  “Then he’s perfect.” She raised her latte, and I clinked mine against hers.

  “It’s the first date,” I reminded her. “I can’t get too excited.”

  “Oh, get excited.” She dismissively waved her hand. “After What’s-His-Name, you deserve to.”

  I wasn’t sure which What’s-His-Name from my past she referred to, but it didn’t matter. They all pretty much sucked.

  “When are you getting the new mulch?” I asked.

  “Don’t change the subject. Tell me more about this Andrew guy.”

  “There’s nothing else to say.”

  I didn’t want her to know anything else. Once she got a mouthful of tidbits, she’d be giving me hell on anything that seemed less than perfect.

  “How old is he?” Mom pressed.

  I sighed. “Fine. He’s forty-five.”

  Her eyes went wide as beach balls. “Forty-five!” she shrieked. “Lanie, that’s seventeen years older than you!”

  “Thanks, Mom. I know how old I am.”

  “Don’t mock me,” she snapped.

  I pressed my lips together hard. “It doesn’t matter how old he is.”

  “How are you going to marry a man that much older than you?”

  “No one said I was marrying him.”

  “But that’s what you’re looking for now. You’re almost thirty.”

  Correction, it had been what I was looking for. At this point, after so many hurdles and punches, I would have settled for nothing more than a nice time. I’d been let down so much that getting my hopes up had begun to hurt.

  “Your father is going to freak when he hears you’re dating a forty-five-year-old.”

  “It’s one date,” I protested, leaving out the part about me praying it would be more. Marriage or not, having a guy around to have some fun with would be amazing. A deep connection would be a bonus, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for that.

  Mom’s tongue clicked. “You’ve already agreed to the date, so I suppose it would be distasteful for you to cancel it.”

  I stared at her, annoyance surging.

  “Lanie?”

  “What, Mom?”

  “Don’t tell your father about this.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  I started to respond that I hadn’t, but maybe I had.

  “An older man with a younger woman.” Mom shook her head. “You know what your father will say. He’ll think this man is taking advantage of you.”

  “How? In what way?”

  “You’re mature in some ways, Lanie, but seventeen years is too much of a difference.”

  She hadn’t answered my question at all. “I have to go,” I said, not bothering to look at the clock. “Erica is waiting for me.”

  “Be careful this weekend. Don’t go anywhere where there aren’t other people.”

  “He’s not a sexual predator.”

  “Lanie.”

  “Okay. I hear you.”

  She huffed, perfectly-manicured fingers tapping against the table. Surprisingly, no steam issued from her ears.

  “Love you, Mom. See you later.”

  With her tart goodbye ringing in the room, I left. Since the kitchen sat at the back of the house, the journey to the front, in my opinion, took way too long. I needed out of that house ASAP.

  On the drive to Erica’s, my teeth wouldn’t unclench. My mom had been right about my dad’s reaction to me dating an older guy. My parents were so by-the-book, their heads would probably explode if they knew the man I was going out with was the father of one of my students.

  Parking at Erica’s, I found myself checking my phone, hoping there would be a text from Andrew. The screen was blank, though. We hadn’t been in touch since our conversation on the phone the day before. I found myself aching to hear his voice. I’d only seen this man twice in person, and yet I already missed him.

  Was that a bad sign? What if my mom was right after all? Maybe I’d gotten in over my head. Andrew probably had girls fawning over him all the time. If I continued to fall for him but didn’t meet his expectations, nothing would stop him from moving on to the next person. And there I’d be, alone. Right where I’d started.

  Realizing I was going down the rabbit hole of worry again, I collected my purse and keys and schlepped it into Erica’s building.

  “What’s that sourpuss face for?” she asked the second I came through the door.

  “I just saw my mom.”

  “Say no more.” She donned a pair of mitts and extracted a baking pan from the oven.

  “Oh my god,” I groaned, dropping my purse and plopping into a chair. “I forgot to pick up ice cream!”

  “Whoa. Relax. It’s not the end of the world. The pie’s not going to be that good without it, but I need to back off on dairy anyway.”

  I ran my fingers down my cheeks. “I just don’t have my head on straight right now.”

  “Every other time you go to your mother’s it’s like that.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “So what happened?” Erica sat down next to me, bringing a cutting board and tomatoes to the table. She started dicing the fruit into little cubes, her cuts swift and clean. I lightly touched the place where I’d nicked myself the week before. It had healed fine, but every time I thought about dinner at Erica’s now, I thought about Andrew.

  “I told her about my date with Andrew Marx,” I slowly said. “Just that he’s in investing and he’s forty-five, well, according to the internet.”

  “Uh-huh. And how did that go?”

  Like she had to ask.

  “She made it pretty clear she thinks it’s a mistake. She kept talking about how my dad would freak out if he knew I was dating an older guy.”

  Erica scrunched her nose. “You shouldn’t have told her.”

  I threw my hands up. “Well, I left right after that transgression, so there you go.”

  “Good choice.”

  She finished cutting the tomatoes and neatly wiped her hands on the dish towel slung over her shoulder. “You want my advice?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Fuck ‘em.”

  “They’re my parents.”

  She held her hand up. “I’m only putting it in such a rough way because I know how you are.”

  I know how you are. God, I was tired of everyone talking about how they either knew me or knew what was best for me.

  “Don’t patronize me, Erica.”

  She gave me a sharp look. “I’m not. All I’m saying is, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. It’s up to every person to do what’s right for them.”

  “Yeah,” I conceded.

  “What’s right for you in this case?”

  “I don’t know.” I worked my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling more confused than before.

  “Oh, come on. It’s to go out with Andrew.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a seventeen-year difference. That’s—”r />
  “The age of his daughter,” she interrupted with a giggle.

  “Exactly.”

  “But who cares?” Erica dramatically threw her hands in the air.

  “There are differences, things he might understand that I might not. Or, maybe—”

  “Maybe a lot of things. Haven’t you ever wondered why it didn’t work out with Brad?”

  “He was immature. You know that.”

  “What about Hudson? Nick? Enoch?”

  “You’re going to list every man I ever went on a date with?”

  “They were boy-men.” She punctuates the last part by pointing her finger at me. “They couldn’t grow up. Men our age are kind of, well, ugh.” Erica shook her head.

  “Your boyfriend is our age.”

  “He’s an exception. Thank God. Look, Lanie. Maybe you haven’t found the right guy yet because you’ve been looking in the wrong age group. Going out with an older guy might be good for you. It’ll give you an idea of what you’ve been missing.”

  “Hm. I guess.”

  Thinking about it, Erica’s point of view grew on me. Something had always been off about the men I dated. It was like they lagged behind in one way or another, and I was stuck waiting for them to catch up.

  “I think you’re mature for your age,” Erica seriously said, taking her tomatoes to the stove and dumping them into a skillet.

  “Thank you, but I’m not sure that’s true.”

  “Spoken like a truly mature person.”

  I laughed, and Erica joined me.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. I’m going out with him.”

  The conversation moved on, but as we cooked and talked about movies coming out and the trip Erica and Matt were planning to Ireland, I barely saw the things in front of me. Those dark brown eyes were back, filling my inner vision and distracting me from anything and everything else.

  I cared what my parents thought more than I wanted to admit. Even when I disagreed with them, their disapproval still had a way of getting under my skin. But enough was enough. The time to do things for myself had come. I was going out with any man I wanted to. With that decision made, a rush of excitement filled me.

  I absolutely could not wait for Saturday night.

  Chapter 14

  Andrew

  On Friday, I got what I wanted.

  In a sense.

  Waiting in the car outside of the high school for Raven, the woman who’d been on my mind nonstop exited through the front doors and walked toward the small parking lot on the side of the building.

  Without any thought, in the blink of an eye, I was out of my car and halfway to her. “Lanie!”

  She turned, brows furrowed. Recognizing me, though, the hardened expression melted. “Andrew,” she breathed.

  The hairs all over my body stood on end. I wanted to hear her say my name again and again.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, looking all around. “Did you have a parent-teacher meeting?”

  “No, I came to pick Raven up from school. We’re going to a talk at the library.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Come with us sat on the tip of my tongue, but I knew that wasn’t right. The afternoon was supposed to be about Raven and me. And I still hadn’t told my daughter I had a date planned with her school counselor. Dropping the news like a bomb wouldn’t do any good.

  “You look amazing today,” I quietly said.

  And she did. With the formfitting white top and tight skirt, she looked like a librarian herself. Instantly, my mind started going to dirty places. Working hard, I reeled it back in and focused on maintaining a conversation.

  “Is six o’clock still good for tomorrow?”

  “It’s perfect,” she cooed.

  “Great.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Her lips lifted, and a more kissable smile never existed. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and kept my arms pressed at my sides, afraid they’d act of their own accord and grab her suddenly.

  Lanie’s eyes trailed away from me, landing on a spot over my shoulder. “Raven is coming this way.”

  “Right,” I quietly said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  I took several steps backward, and she did the same. Not until Lanie turned to face her car did I do the same.

  “Why were you talking to her?” Raven asked as we met at the car. No “hello” or anything.

  She frowned in Lanie’s direction. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  I looked at Raven over the roof of the car. “No. Unless you did something I don’t know about.”

  She made an exasperated noise. “No.”

  “Okay. Just checking. Let’s get going.”

  At the library, we crept into one of the conference rooms where a local fiction writer was giving a talk. I’d heard her name before but never read any of her stuff. Mysteries and such weren’t my thing. But Raven had seen an announcement about it in the paper that morning, so here we were.

  Picking the best available seats in the back, we settled into silence with the rest of the small group and waited for the author to begin.

  By the time she’d told us her name, I was distracted.

  My phone kept lighting up in my pocket, demanding my attention. Though I’d turned both the buzzer and ringer off, I still saw the light shining with each call. Someone needed me right away.

  “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Raven.

  She just nodded slightly, eyes still on the writer lady.

  Out front of the library, I called Maggie back. “What’s going on?” I demanded. “I’m missing in action till six tonight. Remember?”

  “Yes, sir. I thought you would want to take care of this, though. Mr. Meyers is withdrawing his contract, and he’s given no reason. Kyle has been talking to him all afternoon but with no luck.”

  “What?” I kept back a curse. “Connect me with him. Right away.”

  Meyers was a very important client, the kind worth fighting tooth and nail to keep. Waiting for him to come onto the phone, I paced around on the sidewalk.

  “Hello?” he finally gruffly answered.

  I wasted no time, going right into my pitch-perfect, condensed spiel. He had questions, of course. And I answered them.

  By the time the phone call was over, I’d won. Damn the competition. Meyers wasn’t going anywhere.

  The adrenaline I always felt whenever I navigated a deal still pumping through me, I put my phone away and turned back to the library—just in time to see Raven coming out the front doors.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “Don’t you want to stay for the rest?”

  She looked at me like I was the stupidest person she’d ever met. “It’s over.”

  “What?”

  I checked my watch. A whole hour had passed since I’d come outside. The sky was dimming, and half the cars passing by had their headlights on. Raven folded her arms and stared at me, wearing that shuttered look that revealed more than she probably hoped.

  “Raven, honey. I’m sorry. I had to take a very important call. Did you like the talk?”

  “It’s always an important call with you,” she dully said. There was no fight in her voice. It was like she’d given up and was merely reciting the expected lines.

  I felt my jaw tighten. “Sorry you don’t have a father who works at the fast-food window. I have a company to run. Thousands of employees depend on me. If the company goes under, then they can’t pay their bills. Can’t take care of their families. Do you ever think about that?”

  It was a martyr speech I’d never given before, the truth all amped up. My job wasn’t about anyone other than me. It had never been. Others benefited from it, and that was great but not the reason I’d gone into the field.

  She half-raised her eyebrows, but even that small action was done with hardly any energy. Without another word, Raven turned and walked to the car.

  I followed a few yards behind, anger and regret battling for d
ominion over me. I wanted to be angry at Raven for being angry, but could I be? Had I needed to take the call? Or make it last for a whole hour?

  So what if we’d lost Meyers? The realization struck me, and I had to admit something I never had before. He was just one client. Some zeroes on paper. I didn’t need his money. It would have been good for the company, but we’d still be at the top of the food chain without him.

  Sliding behind the wheel, I raked my fingers through my hair and quietly looked at Raven. “I’m sorry.”

  She lethargically turned from the window. “’Kay.”

  “Really. I am. But ...”

  Raven slightly turned her face in my direction, still avoiding my eyes but showing she listened.

  “I like that we’re spending more time together,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been doing that enough. I made a mistake there.”

  Raven’s stiff shoulders loosened.

  Noting some promise, I went on. “And as we’ve been spending more time together, I’ve noticed some things that I looked over before.”

  “Like what?” she warily asked.

  “Where are your friends, Raven? You used to have so many.”

  She shook her head, looking away again and getting busy twisting a lock of hair. “That school sucks.”

  “It’s a big school.”

  “Yeah, well, there isn’t anyone there like me. Okay?”

  I kept back a huff. “Not okay. It’s not healthy for you to not have friends. If there isn’t anyone at school that you get along with, let’s get you somewhere you can meet more people your age. Join a club or meetup.”

  The suggestion she go to the country club more sat on the tip of my tongue, but, on second thought, that was a bad idea. I’d kept her out of private school so she wouldn’t be indoctrinated by a bunch of teens with silver spoons in their mouths. Too much time at the country club—a place I’d only joined because everyone took meetings there—would undermine that effort.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “What about boys? Do you ever think about going on dates?”

  Disgust warped her features. “No.”

  “Dating is a good thing to do at your age. With limitations, of course.”