Chapter Two
Saoirse towed her suitcase behind her, steering it around everyone else who was making their way through the airport. What the fuck was she doing here? Ugh, she knew what she was doing here. Caving to her mother’s threats.
Was it really less than six hours ago that her mother had called and told her to get packed because she was going to stay with Arthur until she could get her head screwed on straight? It felt at once like years and five minutes ago.
Her mother had given her the options of going to rehab or staying with Arthur. If she chose neither, she’d be completely cut off—no money for her last semester of law school, no money for her apartment, no money to live on while she studied for the bar.
And sure, some people needed to go to rehab, but not Saoirse. She liked having some wine with dinner. And while studying. And lately a little something to take the edge off before going to class or, God help her, law review meetings. She could always cut back, or hell, stop. She just…hadn’t.
Whatever. She could use a break and she liked Arthur. He’d been the most parental of any parent she’d ever had despite that he’d been tossed into the role with a sixteen-year-old since he didn’t have any children of his own.
She’d hang out for a while, get Arthur to reason with her mom, and then she’d be back at school, finishing her degree, and getting a good job. One so good she’d be able to pay for everything she needed herself and wouldn’t have to rely on her mother and her flavor of the month for anything. That’d be great. Maybe she could ask Arthur for a loan so she wouldn’t have to deal with her mother at all anymore.
Saoirse rode down the escalator and when she reached the end, there was Arthur. She’d told him he could park in the cell lot and she’d text him when she was at the exit, but he’d insisted he’d park and come in so here he was. It was maybe nice.
Not, of course, that she’d admit that, and she definitely wouldn’t mention anything about the relief she felt at seeing him.
His silver slightly curling hair, his black-framed glasses, his square cleanly shaven jaw and the impeccably tailored suit he wore. Yep, that was Arthur. Handsome in a way she wouldn’t confess to anyone, because how cliche was it that she had serious daddy issues and a serious daddy kink. Like, really? Didn’t take Freud to figure that one out.
A smile broke across his face when he saw her and he waved because he was a dork like that. She dutifully waved back but made sure to roll her eyes too.
When she came to a stop in front of him, he put his hands on her biceps and studied her, his brows crunching in the center.
“Hey, kiddo. You’re looking a little rough. How about a hug and then we’ll get you the best lobster roll in town?”
“Sounds good,” she conceded. Partly because she loved lobster rolls and partly because Arthur gave really good hugs. She didn’t even mind that he’d said she wasn’t looking so great. She didn’t feel so great. Pretty much like shit, actually.
So she stepped into his embrace, wrapped her hands around his slim waist. The guy was thin but in that wiry, crazy strong way, and she relished the way his arms came around her and squeezed her tight while she pressed her face into his chest.
Arthur wasn’t a polite, mincing hugger—not with people he cared about. No, he gave full-force long squeezes that made you feel like he had all the time in the world for you.
It really wasn’t fair.
For once she didn’t break the hug, but waited for him to pat her on the back. Then he grabbed her suitcase and even tugged her backpack from her shoulder. Granted, it was enormous and heavy and she didn’t feel like carrying it, but she should at least argue.
“Arthur, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to, but I don’t have anyone else to spoil so you’re stuck with it.”
She’d often wondered why Arthur hadn’t been married before her mom or since. He was good-looking, a founding partner of a wildly successful law firm so obviously smart, and made serious bank. Plus he was kind, and funny in a dorky way—like dad jokes without being a dad. She didn’t get it.
But maybe he didn’t want to be married. Maybe he liked being a bachelor. Maybe after her mother he’d decided single was the way to go and she couldn’t blame him for that. Whatever his reasons, it wasn’t really any of her business.
Arthur draped his free arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the exit to the parking garage.
“C’mon kiddo, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”