Page 67 of Detention with Daddies

“Hey.” Such a stupid way to open up this conversation, but I’m at a loss I’ve never experienced before.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft and sweet.

“I feel the need to apologize again. For”—I laugh a little, sardonically—“well, for being a man. For not understanding. I don’t think I ever will if I’m being honest. I don’t know how I could. But I want to.”

“That’s a good start.” This time, she does give me a smile. A small one.

“My kids have really helped me shift my perspective. I don’t know when they both got so much damn smarter than me, but it’s happened.”

Her laugh eases the tight clamp around my ribs that’s been there since she pushed me away. It makes me step a little closer.

“How many kids do you have?”

This time, it’s my turn to smile. “Two. My son, Junior, is twenty-one, and my daughter, Cassidy, is fifteen.”

“And their mom?”

“We’ve been divorced for ten years. She left to be an actress.” Which hurt at the time, but we don’t have any lingering resentment. Tilly deserved to pursue her dreams the same way as she supported me when I pursued mine.

Olivia searches my face for what I can only assume is the fallout from that bomb. Her hand covers mine on the lab table. “That sounds like it sucked.”

“Yeah. It did.” I turn my hand over and lace our fingers together, so glad to have her touch me. Even something as small as this. “We’re friendly acquaintances now. Enough to finish raising our children at least. She got her break a year ago, and Cassidy came to live with me.”

“I bet that was a big change.” The soft emotion in her voice pries something open in me that I’ve kept hidden for a long time. Kept hidden away from every relationship I’ve had since Tilly.

“It was, but a welcome one. She had a hard time in Hollywood.” Like she just reminded me—being watched, judged by her weight, her clothes, her makeup and hair. Not being seen for who she is. Being compared to her mother. The transition was hard on her, mostly pushing my buttons to see if I would try to buy her love and happiness like her mother did. “I think she’s in a good place now. Definitely a teenager with all of the baggage that comes with it, but she’s a good kid.”

“Good. I bet that environment was ruthless, especially as she started puberty.”

I chuckle darkly. “Yes. I bet you understand that better than I do. Puberty gave me height and machismo.”

“Machismo. How old are you, Waylen?” Olivia pushes at my shoulder with her free hand, but it’s playful.

And it’s the first time she’s called me by my first name. “Much too old to not know better.”

Her eyes glitter at me.

“Do you really want to know?”

She nods.

“I’m forty-six. An old man. I have a hard time changing my ways. You make me want to though.”

Her eyes widen. At my age or my admission, I’m not sure. But she slides a step closer. “Wow, you are an old man.”

I grin at her. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” The answer is fast and honest.

We seem to hover in this tentative peace. A small bit of intimacy that has everything to do with who we are instead of how others see us. I want to hold her against me, not just to feel her body, but because I’ve missed the comfort of being close to her.

Her hand slowly pulls out of mine though, and she looks back at her paperwork.

“Since you’re here. Would you help me with my own labs? I’m not quite strong enough to take my own blood.” She bites her lip, and I smile at her.

“Of course.” I take the needles, tubes, and band. Tying it around her bare arm, I press my thumb across her veins. They’re big and blue at the crook of her elbow.

She’s not a weeny when I slide the needle in and start filling the first vacutainer tube. “How many?”

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