Page 88 of DadBod
“Go to your room, Ryann.”
“Why?” My kid’s voice is getting higher, squeakier. “What did I say?”
“I’m tired of your attitude.”
“And I’m tired of no one listening to me.”
“I’m listening.” But all I’m hearing is smack talk about Elizabeth.
Ryann slides off the stool. “You’re always going to take her side, aren’t you?”
“I’m not taking sides. I don’t like your attitude. You’re not better than everyone else. Get off your high horse—”
“Fine.” Ryann stomps to the stairs. I’m getting tired of seeing that too.
“Rome?” Elizabeth’s voice is soft.
“What?” I snap. I shouldn’t do that. It makes her angry.
“Do not snap at me.”
“Sorry.” I look over at her. She’s standing next to Calvin with her hand on top of his head. “Sorry.” I feel repeating it is a good idea, if her expression is any indication on how much trouble I’m in.
“You need to give her more time. You want her to accept me and all these changes all at once, and that’s not fair.”
“She can fucking work at my goddamn restaurant.”
“She can. But maybe we should table the chore list for now.”
“Fuck,” I grumble.
“Definitely table the chore list,” Calvin states as he jumps off the stool and opens the fridge. The kid must be growing, because all he ever does is eat.
“Fine.” Running my hand through my hair, I realize how tired I am. But there’s no rest for the wicked. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting with Antony.”
“Okay.” Elizabeth looks over at my son. “Cal. We need to get ready. We’re supposed to be at the animal shelter in a few minutes.”
“I can drop you all off.”
“Cool.” Calvin slams the fridge door after grabbing three cheese sticks. “I’ll get my shoes.” Racing away, he hits the stairs running. “I’ll tell Ryann too.”
“Okay, bud,” Elizabeth answers.
Good thing. “Maybe she should stay home. I’m tempted to ground her.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You don’t want her here alone. Remember?”
Right.
“Besides, she needs Charlie and Charlie needs her. She’ll cool off.”
“Why are you so understanding?” I want to walk around this kitchen island and pull her into my arms so badly, it almost hurts.
“Because I remember.”
“Of course, you do.” I glance at the stairs and back at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome.”
I watch as she gathers up snacks and drinks for the kids for the day. For the first time in a long time, I wish I didn’t have to work. I wish I could just go with them––spend the day with the three people who mean the most to me. Even Ryann, who is testing all my patience. Instead, I head up to my office to get a few things I’ll need for my meeting with my chef. A chef who, I fear, is ready to quit on me. There’s nothing I can do about it. Sure, I could pay him more, but that’s not possible right now. He’s been wooed by several restaurants around the city. Luckily, he’s chosen to stay. My only hope is, if he does leave, he gives me enough notice to find his replacement. While I can do the job, I don’t want to. Honestly, I want to do even less than I’m doing now. I’d prefer to focus on my home life and perhaps work on opening a second location. If I did that, I’d need competent people to manage those places, which would give me more time at home.
What the hell is happening?
The thoughts running through my head just now give me pause, because I’ve never imagined a life where I wasn’t working a hundred hours a week.
Should I be concerned about this shift in attitude toward my business, or should I let it ride?
Honestly, I don’t know the answer. Not yet.