Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(75)

I was pretty used to it, though. These new women appeared in my life like a hurricane, trying to be my friend, sometimes trying to be my mom, but they never lasted long. Frank didn’t have “commitment” or “monogamy” anywhere in his vocab, no matter how hard he tried otherwise.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t even met this one yet,” I said.

“Seriously? He got married again and didn’t even invite you to the wedding?”

“Supposedly it was a low-key thing. She’s this high-powered CEO of the company that just bought him out.”

We got to the front of the line and ordered our coffee. As we moved over to wait for the drinks, Lacey gave me a look.

“Her company bought his, and now they’re married? Seems pretty weird.”

I sighed, nodding. “Yeah. It’s some big scandal in the business community or something.”

“Classic Frank.”

“What I don’t understand is why this woman would want to go through all this for him. Don’t get me wrong,” I said quickly, “I love my dad. But who’s worth that much trouble?”

“What a cynic.”

“Like father, like daughter, I guess.”

Lacey laughed as our names were called. We gathered up our caffeine-and-sugar beverages and headed out into the warm afternoon.

I really wasn’t looking forward to going home for the first time in a long time. In years past, going back to my dad’s house in San Francisco was usually pretty great, but for some reason I was dreading meeting his new wife.

I’d heard bad things about her. They were both CEOs of up-and-coming tech firms, and Cindy was supposedly something of a hard ass. Everything I knew about her was either from the mouth of a PR firm or from some gossip rag online, but so far nothing seemed to really paint her in a flattering light.

And yet when Dad called me to tell me about the nuptials, he sounded really happy. For the last few years, his life had been all about work and more work, with the occasional girlfriend of course. But that never seemed to make him happy, just more and more stressed. He needed something in his life to brighten up his days, and if Cindy was doing that for him, well, then I couldn’t get in the way of it.

Still, I didn’t have to be excited to meet another woman that was going to want to be my replacement mother. Or maybe this one was going to want to be my best friend instead. You could never tell until you met them which direction they’d take.

“You’ll be home this summer, right?” I asked her.

“Of course. What else would I do, pay rent?”

I laughed. “Solid point.”

“Between prostituting myself for cash and living with my parents for a few months, I choose parents.”

“Not an easy choice, though.”

“Not at all.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “You get to make your own hours as a hoe. On the flip side, free food is a big bonus.”

We both laughed, and I shook my head at her. I was pretty sure she was genuinely considering becoming a prostitute to avoid going home.

Lacey and I had been best friends all through high school. I moved around a lot when I was younger, because my dad got jobs all over the country. Eventually, though, he wound up at his company Blingo, and we stayed put in San Francisco. I met Lacey my second day of school, and we had been inseparable ever since.

“Well, you know where to find me if you ever need to escape the oppression,” I said.

“Please. You’ll come crawling to me first I bet.”

“How long before I’m knocking on your door? A day?”

“Four hours. Tops.”

The University of California at Berkeley’s campus was more or less empty by the end of the school year, and we didn’t have any trouble finding a prime spot to sit down and watch what few students were left walk by.

“You know,” Lacey said after a few minutes of relaxing silence, “you haven’t mentioned your little problem recently.”

I frowned, sipping my coffee. I hadn’t mentioned it because I was sick of thinking about him. Even though I hadn’t seen him since we’d gotten back from vacation, he hadn’t been too far from my mind at pretty much at all times. Cole the fighter, the cocky asshole, the gorgeous stranger.

And my husband, of course.

Technically, at least.

“Wish I had an update for you,” I said. “Just counting the days until I can legally pronounce him dead.”

“Seriously?”

“No. I wish. I can just push the divorce through without his consent at that point.”

“How long?”

“End of the summer.”

“Have you told your dad yet?”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. And disappoint him? No, thanks.”