Page 47 of Dating the DILF
I laugh at his comparison to the demonic doll from the horror movie.
“Tyson has crashed on the sofa,” he informs Camden and Shannon. “And Bri is still on her tablet.”
They nod in unison and the three of them start chatting about a local animal shelter adoption day that is coming up soon.
“I’m thinking about getting a dog. Lulu’s been asking for ages and she’s wearing me down.”
“Don’t do it,” Camden argues. “It’s like having another child. Ain’t no one got time for that.”
“You’re a vet,” I chastise. “Shouldn’t you have a menagerie at home?”
“Don’t even bother.” Shannon groans. “I’ve been trying to talk him into a dog for years. His heart is made of stone.”
“Well, I think you should get Lulu a dog. I wanted a pet so badly when I was a kid, but I was never allowed one.”
Miles reaches over and kisses my shoulder, giving me an understanding look.
As though my thinking about her has conjured her up, my cell begins jumping about on the table in front of me, the screen displayingMOM.
Knowing she’ll keep calling until I answer, I snatch the phone up, apologize and excuse myself.
“Hey, Mom.” My stomach churning, I greet her once I’m inside, hidden away in the kitchen. I keep my voice low, so I don’t disturb Brianna and Tyson in the playroom.
“Hi, baby.” There’s an awkward pause as I wait for her to continue.
When she doesn’t, I clear my throat. “What’s up, Mom, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“You’re working?” There’s an edge to her voice that makes me uncomfortable and I wonder if she’s been drinking.
“No, I’m with friends.”
“Your boyfriend, you mean?” She spits the words out and I swallow hard, embarrassed by the sliver of fear that shoots through me. It’s a leftover instinct from my childhood, I understand this, but it still leaves me unsettled.
“Yes.”
“Speak up, baby girl, I can barely hear you,” she barks snidely. “Do you have any idea how it felt to find out about this in a magazine? I bet you told your grandparents about this idiot.”
I grit my teeth at her insult of Miles, wanting to defend him, but knowing it will just make this worse and draw it out.
“Well?” she prompts.
“Yes, I’ve told Nanna and Poppa.”
She huffs out a bitter laugh. “Of course. Because they’re the perfect ones and I’m the fuckup. Were they the ones putting food on the table or clothes on your back?”
I want to say yes, to challenge the childhood she’s rewritten for me but there’s really no point. So, instead, I give her the answer she wants.
“No,” I whisper.
“No, that wasme. The one you’re so happy to toss aside and forget about. Well, now it’s time to make it up to me.”
Panic slices through me. “What do you mean?”
“The Inquisitor is offering us a lot of money to do an interview. It’s scheduled for the fourth of next month.”
“No.” Surprise and contempt hardens my voice. “I’m not doing that.”
“Charlotte, youwilldo this for me. The money they’re going to give m—us is too good to turn down. Surely, what’s-his-name knows how the game is played and wouldn’t expect you to turn it down.”
