Page 18 of Mr. Wrong
That’s what my brother said, right before he fired me. Right before he told me I needed to get a life. A real life.
A life of my own.
What he doesn’t seem to get or give a shit about is that I had a life—areallife—and I gave it up for him.
For her.
So, the problem isn’t Cassie anymore. It isn’t that I’m too busy or focused on helping Landon raise his daughter—it’s that I’m no longer focused on anything. I’m an out of work, college drop-out. I’m good for a few hours’ worth of orgasms but beyond that, what would I have to offer a woman? Especially one like Ellenore. Someone who is smart and sweet and totally removed from the Hollywood bullshit I’ve been steeped in for the past several years.
Like it fucking matters now, anyway.
Ellenore is gone and there’s no getting her back.
I let her go without even asking for her phone number. Under normal circumstances, I’d just go back to the bar I found her in and wait for her to show back up but that won’t work either. I might not know much about her but I know enough to tell me that she’ll never go back there—probably so she won’t run the risk of running into me.
Shoving it all aside, I walk across the driveway, throwing my hand up and waving at the windows set into the apartment over the garage. No one waves back but I know he’s there. He’s always there.
Killian Davis.
Cassie’s bodyguard.
That’s his official title anyway. What he really is, besides Landon’s best friend, is a junkyard dog who walks upright and knows how to flush a toilet. He also happens to be Landon’s best friend. If something goes down within a five-mile radius of Cass, he knows it. I have no doubt he knows about Ellenore, just like I have no doubt that he’ll be cornering me at some point and asking why I insist on making his life sogoddamned difficult.
Since I can’t change it and I wouldn’t, even if I could, I put that away too. None of it matters, anyway. I’m moving out as soon as I’m able to land another job.
Oh yeah? What are you qualified to do? You dropped out of college and spent the last six years of your life changing diapers and opening juice boxes.
Pushing through the back door, I see Cassie sitting on one of the lower steps of the back stairs, waiting for me in her PJs, like she does every morning. When she sees me, her straight, dark brows slam down over her bright blue eyes.
“You’re late,” she says, standing up to stalk her way over to me, hands on her hips, adorable face tipped up at me in a scowl.
“How do you know I’m late?” I say, fitting my hands under her arms and lifting her so I can set her on the kitchen counter I’m standing next to. “You can’t even tell time.”
“Can too.” Her little chin juts out at a stubborn angle as she aims her blue-eyed glare in my direction. “You always come when the little hand is on the eight and the big hand is on the twelve. The big hand is on the five now. That means you’re late.”
I make a show of looking at the kitchen clock, hanging above the sink. Looking back at her, I give Cassie a low whistle, in hopes of deflecting her observation and any questions that might follow, because while I’d really hoped my brother would see me walking Ellenore to the gate so I could watch him blow a gasket, I really don’t want to answer anywho was that girlquestions from my six-year-old niece. “I’m impressed.”
She rolls her eyes at me, her bare heels drumming against one of the lower kitchen cabinets. “I'm serious, Uncle Lex.” Despite her attitude, I can see how upset she is. Her chin is trembling and her fingers are all twisted up in her pajama shirt. “I was scared you weren’t coming.”
Hearing her say it makes me wonder just how much she heard of the fight I had with Landon yesterday and it makes mehate my brother even more, because of course he’s going to leave this to me. He’s going to make it my job to tell Cassie that—
“Oh, good—you decided to show up.”
I look away from Cassie to watch my brother cross the kitchen, on his way to the fridge. “Where else would I be?” My tone is pointed—reminding him that we’ve yet to officially tell Cassie that I’m being replaced.
Landon’s hand stalls on the handle of the refrigerator for a moment before he pulls it open. “Cassie, go on upstairs and get dressed, we have a visitor coming.”
Cassie looks from me to her father, her brows low and tight over slightly narrowed eyes. She’s only six but she knows that her life is severely limited. There are only a handful of people allowed here and a strange visitor isn’t one of them. She settles her gaze on me, her brows lifting a bit. “Uncle Lex?”
I shoot my brother a quick, nasty glare before aiming a smile in her direction. “You heard your dad, kiddo,” I say, lifting her down from the counter. “Run up and get dressed and I’ll wait for you to start breakfast.” It’s our thing. Whatever she wants for breakfast, we make it together.
She doesn’t move. She just stands there, staring up at me, looking like she’s seconds away from a full-blown mutiny.
“Cassandra.”
Landon’s voice cuts between us and she flips her glare at him for less than a second before she takes off, stomping up the stairs and to her room to do as her father said.
As soon as I hear her bedroom door slam shut, I look at my brother. “If you think I’m doing your dirty work for you, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
