Page 9 of Life’s Too Short

Again, I did like that he was shrewd.

I didn’t look up as I keyed in an email to Becky. “I don’t think anyone else could handle what I have going on.” I hit Send with a final tap and leveled my eyes on him.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his fingers threaded across his belly. “Keller and Garcia? What have those two idiots done now?”

“Garcia violated his custody order and took his daughter over state lines to visit his mother last week. They’re asking for full loss of his parental rights until the conclusion of the trial.”

He bobbed his head. “The guy’s being indicted for tax evasion. It’s not a violent crime. They won’t grant it.”

“I know. Maybe a slap on the wrist.”

“And Keller?”

I scoffed. “His ex-wife caught him jerking off outside her window at two in the morning in violation of her restraining order.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled.

“She is also asking for loss of custody.”

He looked at his watch. “And she’ll get it. That guy cannot keep his dick in his pants. This isn’t going to help his assault case.”

“No, it is not.” And I wouldn’t trust anyone else but me to deal with it—and neither would he.

Marcus nodded for a moment. “Well, have a good night, then.” He got up, then paused with a hand on the back of the chair. “Hey, why don’t you come up to the cabin with us for Christmas next month? Jessica’s just put a hot tub on the deck.”

I shook my head. “I think I might head out to Nebraska. Mom’s been asking me to see the work they’ve done on the house.”

Another lie.

I didn’t like spending Christmas alone, but spending it with Marcus, hanging out with his cranky wife and watching their loveless marriage, was my idea of hell. Marcus’s career was a monument to hard work and dedication, but his personal life was a cautionary tale.

I wrapped up things at the office and left by 3:00.

Mom called while I was driving home.

I stared at the notification on my car’s Bluetooth. I was not in the right headspace for her, but I didn’t like sending her to voicemail in case something was wrong—which was highly likely given her circumstances.

I let out a long breath and hit the Answer Call button, mustering more enthusiasm than I felt. “Hey, Mom.”

“Adrian. I’m just calling to see how your Thanksgiving was.”

Of course.

She was calling to browbeat me into coming for Christmas. Hoping I’d learned my lesson after spending Thanksgiving alone and was now ready to play nice.

No.

“Thanksgiving was fine,” I said flatly.

It wasn’t fine. I’d spent the day by myself eating Chinese takeout and reading transcripts.

She let out a sigh. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. We want you here. Please come for Christmas.”

My jaw ticked. “No.”

I could almost feel her pinning me with her disapproving stare. “You know, you’re not just hurting Richard with this boycott. You’re hurting me, and you’re hurting your grandmother. She doesn’t understand why you’re not there. She gets more confused by the day, and I don’t know how much more time you’ll have with her. Are you really willing to sacrifice that for this…this petty disagreement?”

I barked out an incredulous laugh. “Petty disagreement? Is that a joke?”