“Live out of your van.”
“Yes, Dad,” I chuckle. “Live out of my van and try to figure out why every dessert I attempt to create since I won that fucking award has been a complete and utter disaster.”
“Every dessert is not a disaster. Everything you’ve made me is phenomenal. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Basic cookies and cakes are different. It’s the creative stuff that’s giving me a hard time.”
“Well, maybe it’s the creative stuff that’s the problem. Maybe you need to go back to the basics.”
He’s not in the food world the way I am so he doesn’t understand that a chocolate chip cookie isn’t going to cut it.
“You know,” he starts. “You could come spend the summer in Chicago with me.”
“Why? You’ll be on the road half of the time for work, and when you’re home, you’ll be at the field.”
“Come on the road with me. We haven’t been in the same place for more than a few days since you were eighteen and I miss my girl.”
I haven’t had a holiday, weekend, or more than a single evening free in seven years. I’ve been endlessly working, killing myself in the kitchen, and even tonight, my dad’s team has a game in town. It never dawned on me to take the night off to go watch.
“Dad—”
“I’m not above begging, Miller. Your old man needs some quality time.”
“I just spent three weeks in a kitchen full of dudes, one of whom was practically begging me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR. The last thing I want is to spend my summer around another team full of men.”
He leans forward, tatted arms propped on his knees, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“I handled it.”
“Handled it how, exactly?”
“With a swift knee to the balls.” I take a casual sip of my beer. “Just how you taught me.”
He shakes his head with a small laugh. “I never taught you that, you little psycho, but I wish I had. And now I’m even more adamant about you coming on the road with me. You know my guys aren’t like that.”
“Dad, I was planning . . .” My words die on my tongue when I look up at him across the couch. Sad and pleading eyes, tired even. “Are you lonely in Chicago?”
“I’m not going to answer that. Of course, I miss you, but I want you to come hang out with me for a couple of months because you miss me too. Not because you feel obligated to.”
I don’t feel obligated. Not in that regard, at least. But everything I do, in some way, is an attempt to erase the guilt I have towards our situation. To repay a debt he paid by giving up his entire life for me when he was only twenty-five years old.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him too. It’s why I ensure all my jobs overlap with his travel. I pick kitchens in big cities with MLB teams that my dad will be coming through for work. So of course, I miss him.
A summer with my old man does sound nice, and if having me nearby for a bit will make him happy, it’s the least I could do after everything he’s done for me.
Except there’s one problem.
“There’s no way upper management would allow that,” I remind him. “No one on the team or staff is allowed to have family members with them while they travel.”
“There is one family member who’s allowed to travel with the team this season.” A sly smile slides across his lips. “I have an idea.”
Chapter 3
Kai
Monty: Leave Max with Isaiah and come back to my room. We’ve gotta chat.
Me: Am I leaving Max so you can yell at me?
Monty: Yes.
Me: Cool, cool. I’ll be sure to rush right over for that.
“I found Max a new nanny,” is the first thing he says before I’ve even closed the door behind me.
Huh? I take a seat across the desk in Monty’s hotel room, eyeing him with confusion. “How? I fired Troy an hour ago.”
“I’m just that good, and you’re going to hire her because you clearly have shit taste in nannies since you won’t stop firing them all, so I’m taking over.”
“Her?”
“My daughter.”
My eyes shoot to the framed photo sitting next to him. It’s the same picture he has back in his office in Chicago. The same photo he props on his desk in every city we visit.
I knew the girl in the picture was his daughter, that much was clear, but even though he and I are close, he’s never told me much about her. I always assumed it was because he felt guilty leaving her and traveling for work as much as we do. That, or he knows talking about his kid who he misses will only reaffirm what I already believe—that it’s nearly impossible to do this job as a single parent.