American library books Β» Other Β» The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πŸ“•

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a pretty adult day.”

β€œSeeing your mum and going to the mall. That second one is a nasty, adult thing to do, I agree.”

I shake my head at him. Men and their aversion to shopping. β€œFor someone who hates the mall, you dress pretty snappy, sir.”

β€œYeah, thank God for online shopping.” I roll my eyes at him. As if I’d ever believe he ordered the suit he wore to the club online; I know bespoke tailoring when I see it. He chuckles. β€œSeriously, though, was your visit with your mum okay?”

I nod. β€œShe doesn’t remember who I am. She hasn’t for about six months.” When he reaches for the phone as though he’s reaching for me, I say hurriedly, β€œIt’s okay. I mean, I knew it was coming. Her doctors are really good. They explained what I should expect.”

β€œShe has, what, Alzheimer’s?”

I shake my head. β€œDementia with Lewy bodies. It’s like Alzheimer’s. A lot of the symptoms are the same. Hers are mostly memory problems and cognitive difficulties but she’s developing tremor as well as the disease affects her nervous system.”

β€œOh, baby doll. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He looks it, too. He looks destroyed as he peers into the phone. I run my finger down the edge and smile as bravely as I can. β€œIt’s okay. Like I said, her doctors are really good, and the care home is amazing. They’re reading The Princess Bride to her.”

β€œThat’s good, sweetheart. That’s good. But, fuck, I wish I was there with you.”

β€œIt’s okay, Daddy.” Now it feels natural. β€œCan we read my bedtime story now?”

β€œYes, we can. It’s getting late and my baby needs her sleep. One story.”

I reach over to the bedside table and pick up One Thousand and One Nights again and flip it open to the story I’ve picked out for tonight. Before I start the story, I look at him and smile. β€œTa very much, Daddy. Ta for everything. It really, it means the world to me.”

β€œYou’re very welcome, baby doll.” He strokes the edge of his phone as though he’s stroking my hair.

I snuggle down in my pillows and read him β€œThe Three Princes and the Princess Nouronnihar.”

* * *

Without visiting hours to get to, I can sleep in, and I do, rolling over the way Logan’s told me to do and going back to sleep the first two times I wake up. The third time it’s ten a.m. and the sun is shining outside my black-out blinds and although I still have five hours to kill before my train, the thought that I’ll see Logan in eleven hours has me jumping out of bed.

He’s sent me several texts while I’ve been sleeping, so I take a minute to text him back and reassure him that I’m okay and can’t wait to see him, before I dive into the shower. I need to write two more blog posts before I go and my college roomie, Gracie, has invited me over for a quick lunch before my train. Lunch with Gracie is always touch and go, depending on whether her son is having a bad day, but I’d never turn down an invite. Gracie gets out even less than I do.

When I’m dressed, I check my phone again. Two messages. The first is from Gracie. Connor’s having a really bad day, so lunch is off. Tension drains out of me, followed by a cold rush of shame. Gracie was two hundred percent there for me during my divorce. I want to be two hundred percent there for her. I’m just not always sure how to be.

The second message is from Logan, and it makes me smile again.

Someone slept in late. At one spank for every minute overslept, how many spanks does BD get?

I contemplate how cheekyβ€”and how braveβ€”I want to be.

None, because you haven’t given me a schedule yet, Daddy, I finally text back.

While I’m making myself a late breakfast of grapefruit, toast and tea, his message pings back.

Nice logic for a baby girl. I’ll rectify that immediately. Every minute’s deviation from today’s schedule = one smack with an implement of Daddy’s choosing.

Jeez, I’ll be punctual. That paddle he likes so much is Satan’s own. Yes, Daddy.

I’m almost finished my grapefruit when he texts me back, Better pray your train’s not delayed.

I shake my head at the phone, knowing he can’t see it. It’s unfair of him to hold me responsible for Amtrak’s schedule. I know he doesn’t care about that, either, and I don’t mind that he’s looking for excuses to discipline me. I’ll give him one sooner or later anyway.

My email icon pops up a minute later. I open the attachment and read while I sip my tea.

I rub my fingers over the screen, wiping away happy tears when they spot the glass.

* * *

I’m just finishing up my last post for the blog tour and contemplating what I can scrape together for lunch, since I didn’t do any grocery shopping over the weekend while I was with Logan, when my phone goes. Expecting Mitchy to be calling about the blog post I’ve sent her to proof-read and format, I pick up the phone without looking at the caller.

Logan’s voice fills my ear. I can tell from the first word he’s irritated, but not with me. β€œBaby, I hate to do this to you. I need to leave early. I’m actually calling on the way to the airport.”

β€œOh,” I choke, not knowing what to say, feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of me. He’s going without me?

β€œThe widow who’s suing, Mrs. Black, she’s finally agreed to meet me. She’s given me an hour tomorrow morning. I’m taking the next flight. I won’t even get in until midnight. I know you must still have a million things to do and I don’t want to ask you to take this crazy flight with me.”

I could finish packing in five minutes and be ready, but it will take me hours to get to

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