“Oh my God,” I whisper, horrified. “Why? Why is this happening to me?”
Jake, ever helpful, takes a sip of his coffee and folds his newspaper on the table. One of my past articles about a local homeless shelter is right on top. I ignore it, though. I have to. My whole entire system is already about to experience a catastrophic failure due to stimulus overload.
“I think I’d like to meet your dad sometime.”
“Stop,” I chastise, trying to silence my phone as yet another message comes in.
Dad: Maybe try it with someone else, though? Can’t make grandkids like that, you know. I’d love a couple little buggers running around here someday.
“What?” Jake questions. “He seems like an interesting guy is all.”
I cringe at just how fucking interesting—more like, insane—ole Phil Fields is at the present moment. “You have no idea what’s going on.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But since you won’t tell me, and I already accidentally got a teensy taste of what’s going down over there, I’ve made up a story in my head, and man, it’s good.” He flashes a stupid, sexy smirk. “A real page-turner.”
“You’re officially the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t believe that. If that were the case, you’d already be gone.”
“I have to be here for work.”
He scoffs. “If I were the worst person in the world, I would hope you wouldn’t stick around because of some articles you don’t even want to write anyway.” He pauses to consider me. “Why is that, by the way? I’m sensing something in your past we should talk about.”
“Oh, look,” I announce in the name of distraction. “Another message from my dad. Maybe we should see what it says? I mean, you already took it upon yourself to read one of them.”
“I honestly thought it was mine.” Jake winces. “By the way, it might be helpful in the future if one of us gets a new case. They’re too damn similar.”
I stare at him, my eyes saying, Ya think?
But when I notice that he’s looking back at me with an expression I can’t discern, I can’t stop myself from asking, “What? What on earth are you thinking now?”
“It’s just…” He pauses and laughs almost uncontrollably, running a hand through his dark hair. “Now I know there really must be something in your past. No way you’d bring the conversation back around to your dad’s hilarious text messages if there weren’t.”
I choose to ignore that comment by boldly reading my dad’s latest message aloud. I mean, what’s the use in hiding Phil’s nonsense now that it’s been shoved out into the open? “He says, ‘No pressure, though. They say it’s harder to get pregnant—’” I cut myself off immediately, but I continue to read it silently, once I realize just how terrible this text really is.
Dad: No pressure, though. They say it’s harder to get pregnant when you’re trying. So, you should just have sex a lot without trying.
What the hell, Dad!
On a groan, I set my phone facedown onto the table, and Jake’s expression turns amused.
“C’mon, Holley. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”
I sigh, pick my phone back up, and turn it to face him so he can read it for himself.
“Oh, man. Now I really want to meet your dad. He gives terrific advice.”
“Phil Fields, ladies and gentlemen. A real wise guy.” I shake my head as my phone vibrates in my hand yet again, and I hate that I even check the screen.
Dad: That’s what your mother and I did. Lots of practice. Practiced a lot after you, too, but didn’t manage to make any more beauties like you. Think I might’ve had something broken.
I groan again, finally succumbing to the pressure, and let my head hit the table. “I’m not prepared for this today. I did not get enough sleep. There isn’t enough sleep in the world to remedy this. I need to go back to bed and wake up in an alternate universe.”
Jake’s chuckles feel good against my skin as he reaches out with a kind hand and squeezes mine. “Relax, everyone has embarrassing parents.”
I lift my head from the table, hope unconcealed in my voice. “Are your parents like this?”
“My parents live in Boise, Idaho,” he counters. “And I’ve never met them.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “They were young. I went into the system.”
“Oh, Jake…”
He waves me off. “Don’t ‘Oh, Jake’ me, Holley. There’s no need for sympathy or sadness on my behalf. I obviously turned out okay, right?”