“You sort of did. You wouldn’t leave me alone from the get go.”
“You were determined to find me. I only sought you out after I hacked into your computer. I knew you were Googling me, I just didn’t think it was because you were a private investigator. You sort of suck at it now that I think about it.”
“I do suck at it,” I admitted. “How many other PIs do you know that offer up their real name right off the bat?”
“Why are you doing it?”
I shrugged my shoulders. It didn’t matter. We were not going to be together. “It’s in my blood.” I smiled.
“So daddy says.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think my private investigator is a little better than you. I know a lot, Cassie. I know you’re there because your father is on some sort of hero trip where he needs you to help him save the world. I know you were there when your mother was shot in the face. I know you were glued to your father’s side after that happened. I know you have never really had any friends, and Justine Clover is the only person you are really in contact with. I know your grandmother passed away with brain cancer almost a year ago. You moved in with her and cared for her until she passed. You never moved back home with your father. You stayed.
“I know you’ve never really had a life outside that dingy office downtown. I know you are the messiest human being I have ever met, and I know you’re sort of a scatterbrain.” He smiled. I didn’t smile back. Everything he was saying was dead on. He knew me better than I knew me. I felt sad.
“I have to go,” I decided, coming to my senses. What the hell was I doing?
“Cass, please don’t. Stay for supper, let’s talk. If you still want to say goodbye to me after tonight, I’ll let you go,” he promised, delicately holding onto my pinky.
“Will you still fix my roof?” I caved.
“Sure,” he laughed, nodding for me to sit. I sipped my wine and took a deep breath. I didn’t want this to be over.
Becker and I talked through supper. There was so much to talk about, we didn’t even get started by the time we were pushing our plates away. We talked about my job, my dad, how I’d grown up inside that building, how I did all my schooling right there in his sight. We talked about his house, how he designed every inch of it, the putt-putt golf he was building through a thick patch of pine trees, and his wives. I reverted that conversation. I didn’t like the way it made me feel when he talked lovingly about all three of them.
“I have to go, Becker,” I said around nine. There was really nothing left to say. We were just buying time and we both knew it.
Chapter 11
“Will you at least meet them before you judge me?”
“I’m not judging you,” I defensively retorted.
“You are. You’ve been judging me since you found out about me. Please.”
“I don’t need to meet them, Becker. Really. It’s fine. I’m not judging you.” No way. I didn’t want to meet them. Truth is, I’d already judged them, all of them. I found them to be disgusting creatures. Why would anyone think it’s okay? The sex part was just sick. How could they sleep knowing he was having sex with one of the others, or did they do it as a group? I bet they did.
“Come on. It’ll only take a minute.”
My heart was beating out of my chest. I was more nervous about meeting his three wives than I was him. I didn’t want to meet them. I didn’t need to meet them.
I was right. The girls lived on the other side of the house. Becker opened a set of double doors to a sitting room with two fluffy sofas facing each other, a big screen television, and a wide open floor. Two of the girls were bowling with Wii controllers and the other one was painting her toe nails a pretty orange color. I liked it. I was going to look for it.
I squeezed Becker’s hand a little and he squeezed mine back. “I thought you ladies just had your nails done,” Becker questioned the pretty girl who was smiling at me. My face instantly flushed. I felt it. Why was she smiling at me?
“We did, Britney here dropped the mustard bottle. It squirted all over me. I didn’t know mustard could stain nail polish. You must be Cassie. We’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, taking my hand from Becker’s. She was really okay with this. “I’m Alana.”
Becker leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Alana is studying to be an art teacher. She wants to teach at a university.” Moving on, he stood between the other two girls. “This is Britney. Britney here’s our chef. If you ever need to find her, she’s in the kitchen. She’s taking some business classes before she opens up her own restaurant.” Dropping his arm over both girls’ shoulders, he continued. “Christina hasn’t not here much lately. She’s interning with some big-shot fashion designer. What’s his name? Mike Litoris?” Becker questioned.