Page 61 of Sweet Caroline
“There are also… business entanglements.” At my obvious confusion, she adds, “He’s a major annual donor to Found Family.”
I nod slowly, remembering Caroline telling me about how her dad had supported the charity in its early days.
“He’s dropped a casual threat more than once about pulling his donations if I”—she looks up at the ceiling—“step out of line.”
I scowl and shake my head.
What a dirtbag.
“He nearly went through with it, too, when I told him I was quitting to move in with my grandpa here.” She cuts her gaze out the window. “I had to beg him not to and promise to keep supporting him at public events.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry he’s been like that.”
She turns back to me. “Maybe he won’t win the election? Maybe?—”
“He’ll still be a senator,” I say quietly. Whether or not Pete Brennan gets elected governor, he’s got power, contacts, connections. Enough to fuck with my job no matter what happens.
“What are we gonna do?”
“Well, I think you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks.”
“What?” She looks dazed. “You can’t be serious about still going along with this. Letting him get his way.”
I shrug, knowing I’ve had more time to mull this over than she has. “Can’t risk my job, though. If I don’t have an income, everything else unravels. My rent, my meds, my therapist, my gym membership… Everything that keeps me sober.”
“But—”
“Andit sounds like you can’t risk the charity donation stuff either.”
Her shoulders drop. “Yeah. So, we what? Placate him and keep this up for weeks?”
“Okay, the placating him part obviously sucks, but would hanging out together be so bad?” There’s no question we have chemistry.
“I guess not?” She bites her lip, thinking for a moment. “You’d keep your job, and I’d appease my meddling father.” Her brows pinch together. “Is that a win for me? Why doesn’t it feel like one?”
“You’d also be protecting Found Family. Thatwouldbe a win. It’s important to you, right?”
“It is.” She nods. “And to Adrian. And to all the kids.”
“See?” I tug on her dress and pull her into another hug, pressing my lips into her hair. “Plus, I can still help you out with yoursexplorationlist. I mean, I heard girls with asshole dads deserve, like, extra orgasms and shit. So.”
She laughs into my shoulder, though she sounds tired.
“C’mon, I’ll drive you back to your car. You can work on your fuck-it list in the truck on the way into town.”
She balks, pulling back to stare up at me. “My what?”
“Y’know, like a bucket list—but for sex.”
“Okay.” That awkward smile is back as I coax her toward the stairs. “But if you say butt stuff again?—”
I hold up a hand in solemn promise. “I swear I won’t say?—”
Her eyes widen as she clamps a palm over my mouth. “Don’t!”
When I stay quiet, she risks slowly peelingher fingers away.
Then, because my maturity level apparently never progressed past age thirteen, I whisper, “Butt stuff.”
