Page 110 of My Ex's Best Friend

“Kiera—” I call out, but she disappears before I can say anything else.

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I go straight home. I arrived at Eros yesterday but spent the night at the hotel instead of going home. My parents have no idea I’m coming.

The exterior of my parents’ home is crafted with a meticulous eye for detail, showcasing a blend of classic and contemporary elements. A sweeping driveway leads up to the entrance, flanked by well-manicured lawns

The façade is adorned with towering columns and intricate detailing. Dad took his time building the house to be just perfect for my mom before we actually moved in.

I still remember the look on Kiera’s face when she saw it for the first time.

The garage door is open, and my dad is right out, working on a painting, like he always is.

"Dad?" I call out as I walk up to him.

At the sound of my voice, he looks up, adjusting his glasses. His clothes and fingers are smudged with paint. "Jake, is that you? What are you doing here?"

"Was just in the area," I say.

Dad laughs, walking up to me for a hug. "How are you, son?"

I hug him back. "I'm good, Dad. How are you?"

"Your mother will be thrilled to see you here," Dad says.

"I know, it's been a while," I say. "I know I've been so busy with the museum project."

"Ah yes, Ulysses. I've heard about it."

"Let me guess, someone from the board," I say.

"I needed a few trusted people to keep an eye on you," Dad says jokingly, but there's truth to some of his words. The only reason he allowed me to create the firm was that in return the board would oversee the operations. I thought it was a fair deal, and it has proved to be for the better for our growth.

"I actually like their advice."

Dad snorts. "Those old farts?"

"Yes, Dad," I say. "Thank you for always looking out for me."

Dad frowns. "I'm not really sure what's happening here, but I like it."

I hug him again. "Nothing, I'm just glad to be home."

"Is there something else?" he says.

I hesitate, looking away.

"Come on, son. You know you can talk to me about anything,” he says looking around. “But the garage might not be the best place. Come on.”

He cleans his hands on a rag, leads me out to the porch, and sits me down. “Do you want something?”

“No, Dad, I just want to talk to you.”

He nods and sits down next to me.

My father was one of my best friends growing up, and that never changed.

“So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”

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