Page 86 of Fly Boy
She looks at me like I’ve got two heads. “Honey, we followed you the whole way home, and by the time we got there, this pretty little brunette was already getting out of her car looking all worried.” She cocks her head. “So, who is she?”
“Pippa Cartwright,” I say, wanting someone to know about her.
“Cartwright…” Sadie gasps, “As in, your employee Cartwright? His daughter?”
I nod.
“Oh,” she breathes, reaching for her glass again and finishing the contents. “Now I wish I’d added vodka to this. Does anyone else know?”
I shake my head.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No,” I laugh humorlessly. “If we’re caught, I could be fired. If we continue, she’ll get hurt.”
“Only her? What happens to you?”
“Nothing, I move on,” I deny, because Pippa’s already buried so deep that I know if—when—this ends, I don’t think my broken pieces will be able to be glued back together.
Unless you can figure out how to keep her.
“Sure, you do,” she snorts, seeing straight through me.
“What?” I ask, trying to deflect because being so unbelievably transparent in front of a parent feels weird. “When have you ever seen me with a girlfriend?”
“When have I ever seen a girl put that look on your face, Wyatt?” She doesn’t wait for my reply. “The answer is never. If she makes you happy…”
“She’s seventeen years younger than me, Sadie,” I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “And even though most of the time I don’t even think about the difference—I mean, if you met her, you’d see she’s this incredible woman with so much passion and a sass that could rival Teddy’s—but how could it work out between us? She has so much going for her with her career and—”
“There’s six years between your father and me,” she says pointedly, interrupting my stream of consciousness.
“There’s a big difference between six and seventeen…”
“Catherine Zeta Jones and Michael Douglas,” she yells triumphantly, cutting me off. “Twenty-five years of a difference, and they’ve been happily married for a lifetime. See? If she’s worth it, you’ll make it work.”
“You are full of all the wisdom today, aren’t you?”
She leans back in the swing, holding her arms out wide. “With age comes wisdom. One day, you’ll understand.”
We continue talking for another half hour until I need to head home. Carrying our glasses into the kitchen, I put them in the dishwasher before walking back outside.
“I’ll let your dad know you came by,” she says, giving me one last hug, and I place a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Sadie. For everything.” And I walk back to my car, knowing I mean for more than just talking to me today.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Is it wrong thatI’m starting to like your bed more than the one back at my apartment in Coloradoandthe one back at my dad’s house?” Pippa says, lazily stretching her arms above her head.
“It’s wrong that every time you come here, I fuck you before I feed you,” I reply, hopping back into bed, tugging up the blankets to my waist and leaning against the headboard. I reach over to my nightstand and grab my phone, pulling up the DoorDash app. “What are you in the mood for?”
She hums thoughtfully before trailing her fingers up my side to my pec. “I can think of something.”
“I’m serious, we can’t—”
A loud thud cuts me off, and Pippa sits up fast, holding the sheet around her chest. “Did you hear that?”
I nod slowly, straining to hear what it is when it happens again. I dart out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweats and tossing them on. Pippa’s shoving on her clothes, too, panic shining from her eyes as she looks up at me.
