Ryan shrugged. “Mom’s the one who said it. The other day in the car when some other car cut in front of her. She told me never to tell you.”
A slow smile broke out over Ian’s face at the spousal ammunition his son had just unknowingly handed over. “Did she, now? Son, did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He pulled Ryan close to his shoulder for a moment, and at six, Ryan was still young enough not to be embarrassed by such displays.
Gray looked away, disturbed that the casual gesture gave him a vague sense of discontent that hadn’t been there a few months ago. With their identical blond hair and brown eyes, they were the classic father-son baseball duo. Gray felt like an outsider. It was a feeling he’d long become accustomed to, but it had never bothered him quite so much before.
“Okay, so work’s not great, but it’ll get there,” Ian said, returning his attention to Gray. “You’ll turn it around in no time. It’s why Brayburn selected you as his replacement.”
“I guess,” Gray said noncommittally.
“Well, that’s the enthusiastic businessman I know so well,” Ian said with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the deal, you homesick or something? Got your period?”
Gray didn’t bother to respond to that, and took a sullen bite of pizza.
Ian pressed on. “It’s your bratty siblings, isn’t it? Jenna is still giving you crap for not taking her ice-skating when she was nine, and Jack’s still treating you like an impersonal stranger.”
Gray tensed at that, but it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Hell, it was nothing he hadn’t thought before. “The twins are fine,” he said. “Jenna’s actually coming to visit in a couple weeks. I doubt we’ll be spending any white Christmases together anytime soon, but they seem to have forgiven me for whatever it was I did or didn’t do when they were kids.”
Ian nodded thoughtfully, having met Jack and Jenna often enough to know that those relationships were nothing they were going to solve before the end of the ninth inning.
“Woman problems, then,” Ian said.
Gray’s chewing slowed for a moment, and his jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
Ian chuckled. “I fucking knew it.”
“Dad, you said—”
“Look, the moose!” Ian said quickly, pointing at the Mariners’ mascot dancing on top of the dugout. “Why don’t you go see if you can shake his hand?”
Needing no further encouragement, Ryan scampered down the stairs, holding his too-large cap with one hand, glove held protectively in front of him just in case a fly ball happened to find its way into his waiting mitt.
“You’re still with the gym rat, right? Your assistant’s sister?”
Gray growled at the mention of Sophie. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Who? The girlfriend or your assistant?”
“The assistant. I specifically look forward to weekends because it’s the one area of my life that Sophie hasn’t bulldozed with her good moods and chatter. And don’t call Brynn my girlfriend. She’s just…a woman I’m seeing. Sort of.”
Barely.
He’d only spoken to her briefly since her ridiculous plan of a double date had exploded. He should definitely call her. Maybe arrange dinner for tomorrow.
Gray frowned. The idea didn’t hold as much appeal as it should.
And the hell of it was, Gray should be feeling guilty about the way the failed double date had gone. Not just because he’d sent Brynn home with another man, but because Gray hadn’t cared.
Weighing even more heavily on his conscience was the fact that sitting in companionable silence with Sophie had been a good deal more enjoyable than several of his strained silences with Brynn.
Which was ridiculous. Brynn was perfect for him. She had a respectable career, cared about her image, read the news, and paid attention to politics. She wasn’t wedding-or baby-crazy.
Didn’t have distracting curves or wear inappropriate clothes or act like she was chronically on the verge of throwing glitter at random passersby.
He realized that once again, Sophie had wedged into his thoughts.
He tried to push her back.
Maybe it was time to take things with Brynn to the next level. He’d already waited longer than average to pursue any sort of physical relationship with her. Gray kept telling himself it was because he didn’t want to rush Brynn.
He refused to consider that there were other motivations for his reluctance to sleep with Brynn.
He waited for the idea of Brynn in bed to appeal. Nothing. Not the slightest stir. He felt…bored.
“I don’t think we’re working out,” Gray muttered. Hell, it hadn’t been working out from date one, but neither one had a good reason to firmly break it off. Perhaps because they were both too damn polite.
And polite wasn’t good enough.