Page 33 of A Place Like You

“Frames, portraits . . . pictures,” I respond instead of telling him that I don’t have medical equipment lingering around my house.

He nods, but then a frown creases his brow. “Like from our family? I could print you some of the stuff I have on my drive once CQS gives me access to it.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m talking about pictures of my family.”

“What family?” he asks, his expression horrified. “Dude, do we have to go and look for a wife, a girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me? They might find them first and—”

“They already died,” I interject as the grief I had buried deep within me begins to seep through my pores. “It was years ago.”

“Who are you talking about?” he asks, taken aback by the revelation.

“My girlfriend and son.” The words escape my lips with a mixture of pain and regret.

As we approach the ranch, Cal steals a glance at me, his expression filled with regret.“Sorry, I had no idea.”

“As I said, it was too many years ago. I only had a few memories left, and maybe . . . I lost everything,” I say, my voice catching in my throat, making it impossible to remain calm this time.

In truth, there was never much to lose—it was all an illusion that slipped through my fingers too quickly due to my own negligence. The weight of all my regrets settles in my chest, like an elephant stepping on top of me, squeezing the life out of me.

I realize now that I’m not so different from my father. Perhaps I’m even worse. I wasn’t cruel, but I failed them in the worst possible way.

That’s why it was effortless to promise lunch to Milo. He deserves more than a life with just his mother and the absence of an asshole and irresponsible father.

What stories is Wren telling him when he asks for his dad? White lies, perhaps, to protect him from the harsh truth that his father never wanted him. Can a simple lunch make up for years of absence and neglect?

I don’t know, but at least I can try. And as we continue our walk, I can’t help but hope that maybe I can make a difference. Be a distant uncle, or just a friend who can alleviate the burden his mother carries as a single parent.

This isn’t a penance, but . . . why do I want to do this for them?

Chapter Nineteen

Drake

As Gael handles the stove, a faint grumble escapes his lips. “You know, people pay a lot of money for my services.”

“What kind of services are you offering?” Callahan asks as he enters the kitchen, then glances at me. “And what the fuck is he doing here?”

I give Callahan a warning glance. He better not kick Gael out of here, at least not until he finishes helping me.

“Personal chef,” Gael states with a mix of frustration. “I’m here because your eldest brother needed my assistance.”

“Intriguing,” Cal mumbles as he reaches out for one of the cookies on the cooling tray. “Have you ever been one? I thought you only did guest appearances at your restaurants—when Daddy allowed it.”

Gael glares at him but only answers, “I’ve done it several times.”

Teasingly, Cal asks, “We’re talking about doing it for your dates? Because if they pay you for—”

“Stop right there,” Gael interjects, his tone a clear warning. He doesn’t want to be belittled or teased about his profession. “We’re talking about celebrities. Important people who call me because they want the best but can’t just bring their dates or family to a restaurant.”

Although I want to know more, I refrain from asking more questions. Of course, I can’t say the same about Callahan, who has a knack for digging for information. “Who are these families?” Cal persists, not letting this go as easily as I did.

Gael turns around, a pan in hand, his expression becoming more serious. “Leave it alone,” he cautions, clearly not willing to divulge any names or specifics. But the conversation takes a slight turn as Gael brings up an unexpected topic. “The real question here is, why am I making dinosaur-shaped nuggets and sandwiches for a child who isn’t yours?”

Cal raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms in an inquisitive manner, and stares at me. “Is it for the doctor’s son?”

I shrug. “Milo is into dinosaurs but hates the concept of lunch,” I begin, but then elaborate further. “Maybe if I bring him something innovating, he might eat without fussing.”

“Be careful with them,” Cal warns me.

---