Page 21 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

Izzy: That’s…a lot.

Ethan: So?

Izzy: Something simple is fine, Ethan.

Ethan: Simple in the city means sketchy. You will not be living somewhere that needs bars on the windows. The lease is signed.

There is a long moment before she responds and when she finally does, it’s a simple–

Izzy: Thank you.

It’s modest. I must have hit a nerve. One she doesn’t expose often. I smile at that, my chest feeling warm. I know all of this is a bit nuts. It’s been less than two days but I’m wasting no time. I want that article written and ready for next month’s issue. I have never been so done with someone in my life.

If you had told me ten years ago that Liam and I would be enemies, I would have told you to get bent. The man has always been ruthless in a professional sense. He’s always been the most competitive person I’ve ever met. And for a while, that worked well for us. Our energy played off one another and we spent all our time off brainstorming ways to make Next Big Thing, well, the next big thing. Between my interest in staying up to date and well read in the world of business and his natural affinity for the actual world of business itself, we took the journalism industry by storm when we coined NBT. He was the owner slash CEO which made sense considering his bulldog leadership and I became the chief editor and head writer. We were the hottestbusiness magazine on the racks and kings of the mountain so to speak.

But the success was never enough. Liam didn’t care how much good press we got or how high the sales soared. If there was ever a mention of any other magazine having success, he sucked the air between his teeth and slammed the office door. He bit into our writers, pushing them too hard and keeping them too late. It was as if he didn’t just want NBT to be the best magazine in the world of business, he wanted it to be theonlyone. This lust spread over him like a possession, eventually getting to the point where he wouldn’t listen to any outside voice of reason, even mine.

The old Liam, the one I knew and loved and would do anything for, is gone. I haven’t seen that man in years. And the Liam I am dealing with now is a reptile. A shell of the best friend I used to have.

And he needs to be stopped.

It takes one week from our text conversation for the movers to have her shipped across the state and situated into the new place. As much as I want to meet her there, make sure she has what she needs, you know all thewe fucked and it's all I can think aboutthings, I know Izzy won’t stand for it so I give her space. I do blow her phone up asking for details every hour until she sends an all caps warning for me to back the fuck off because she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself but also, thank you.

After that week of settling, we meet up at Roast, a little coffee spot three blocks from her townhouse. As much as she acts like I have gone completely overboard setting her up in a gated community in one of Denver’s most sought after areas, I know she loves it. I can see it on her face.

“You look good,” I say as she sets her bags down and glances up at the coffee menu. I arrived an hour early to get set up but also so I can watch her walk through the door and take her in. She’s in joggers this time, much less formal than the first time we met up at the lounge (and a more clothed than the last time) and a pink tank top. They always say redheads shouldn’t wear pink, not that she is a true redhead, but it’s doing her a lot of favors right now. It accentuates her blue eyes, making them visible the moment she walks in, and the constellation of freckles on her cheeks is more apparent too.

But Izzy just drags her gaze down to mine in the world’s most over the top eye roll. “Business. Not pleasure, Savage. Business.”

“Damn. Shoot a guy in the dick for complimenting you. Also, since when are we on a last name basis?”

“Since you became my boss.” Izzy’s eyes shoot back to the menu.

“I already ordered you an iced caramel latte. They’re making it now.”

Her eyes slice over to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But did I get it right?”

“You…did,” the words come out as if they taste sour in her mouth. “But still.”

“It’s not unheard of for a boss to treat their employees. I can write it off on my taxes so I’m not doing you any favors. So thank you, not you’re welcome.”

She studies me hard for a moment before sitting down and pulling out her laptop. Izzy is quiet while it loads. Meanwhile, I unbutton the wrists of my shirt and roll my sleeves up to the elbow. It’s warmer than I expected, especially with the shop keeping its doors open.

Izzy’s eyes flash over.

Her cheeks flush.

She looks away.

“How’s the house?” I ask.

“It’s nice,” she admits.

“Is it the neighborhood you were hoping for?”

“It’s lovely.”

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