The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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βSeeing your mum and going to the mall. That second one is a nasty, adult thing to do, I agree.β
I shake my head at him. Men and their aversion to shopping. βFor someone who hates the mall, you dress pretty snappy, sir.β
βYeah, thank God for online shopping.β I roll my eyes at him. As if Iβd ever believe he ordered the suit he wore to the club online; I know bespoke tailoring when I see it. He chuckles. βSeriously, though, was your visit with your mum okay?β
I nod. βShe doesnβt remember who I am. She hasnβt for about six months.β When he reaches for the phone as though heβs reaching for me, I say hurriedly, βItβs okay. I mean, I knew it was coming. Her doctors are really good. They explained what I should expect.β
βShe has, what, Alzheimerβs?β
I shake my head. βDementia with Lewy bodies. Itβs like Alzheimerβs. A lot of the symptoms are the same. Hers are mostly memory problems and cognitive difficulties but sheβs developing tremor as well as the disease affects her nervous system.β
βOh, baby doll. Iβm so fucking sorry.β
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. βItβs okay. Like I said, her doctors are really good, and the care home is amazing. Theyβre reading The Princess Bride to her.β
βThatβs good, sweetheart. Thatβs good. But, fuck, I wish I was there with you.β
βItβs okay, Daddy.β Now it feels natural. βCan we read my bedtime story now?β
βYes, we can. Itβs getting late and my baby needs her sleep. One story.β
I reach over to the bedside table and pick up One Thousand and One Nights again and flip it open to the story Iβve picked out for tonight. Before I start the story, I look at him and smile. βTa very much, Daddy. Ta for everything. It really, it means the world to me.β
βYouβre very welcome, baby doll.β He strokes the edge of his phone as though heβs stroking my hair.
I snuggle down in my pillows and read him βThe Three Princes and the Princess Nouronnihar.β
* * *
Without visiting hours to get to, I can sleep in, and I do, rolling over the way Loganβs told me to do and going back to sleep the first two times I wake up. The third time itβs 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 Iβll see Logan in eleven hours has me jumping out of bed.
Heβs sent me several texts while Iβve been sleeping, so I take a minute to text him back and reassure him that Iβm okay and canβt 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 Iβd never turn down an invite. Gracie gets out even less than I do.
When Iβm dressed, I check my phone again. Two messages. The first is from Gracie. Connorβs 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. Iβm 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 cheekyβand how braveβI want to be.
None, because you havenβt given me a schedule yet, Daddy, I finally text back.
While Iβm making myself a late breakfast of grapefruit, toast and tea, his message pings back.
Nice logic for a baby girl. Iβll rectify that immediately. Every minuteβs deviation from todayβs schedule = one smack with an implement of Daddyβs choosing.
Jeez, Iβll be punctual. That paddle he likes so much is Satanβs own. Yes, Daddy.
Iβm almost finished my grapefruit when he texts me back, Better pray your trainβs not delayed.
I shake my head at the phone, knowing he canβt see it. Itβs unfair of him to hold me responsible for Amtrakβs schedule. I know he doesnβt care about that, either, and I donβt mind that heβs looking for excuses to discipline me. Iβll 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.
* * *
Iβm just finishing up my last post for the blog tour and contemplating what I can scrape together for lunch, since I didnβt 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 Iβve sent her to proof-read and format, I pick up the phone without looking at the caller.
Loganβs voice fills my ear. I can tell from the first word heβs irritated, but not with me. βBaby, I hate to do this to you. I need to leave early. Iβm actually calling on the way to the airport.β
βOh,β I choke, not knowing what to say, feeling like the windβs been knocked out of me. Heβs going without me?
βThe widow whoβs suing, Mrs. Black, sheβs finally agreed to meet me. Sheβs given me an hour tomorrow morning. Iβm taking the next flight. I wonβt even get in until midnight. I know you must still have a million things to do and I donβt want to ask you to take this crazy flight with me.β
I could finish packing in five minutes and be ready, but it will take me hours to get to
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