Six years ago, Dylan Caldwell was left behind by the love of his life without no clue as to why. It hurt for a long time, but now he has this little ray of sunshine and happiness in his life. His daughter Isabella.
Between being a partner at a firm...
The past two weeks leading towards the dreaded and swiftly upcoming barbecue-event hosted by Dylan's parents was an exhausting and hellish exploit.
Being awakened by a bedridden child weeping or a cellphone repeatedly buzzing at the ass-crack of dawn for the better part of four days was more than enough incentive for Dylan to legitimately consider joining a game of authentic Russian roulette. At this point, Dylan has no qualms about having a fifty-fifty chance of shooting a bullet through his skull.
On the fifth day, Dylan decided to bite the bullet and do what was expected of him as a single father and a prominent lawyer. He made sure that Isabella was as comfortable as she could be albeit her current condition as well as answering some urgent e-mails and texts, reading recent case updates and lastly researching a metric ton of case depositions.
After that, things finally went smooth sailing, or at least they did for a couple of days.
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Dylan had been working from home for nearly a week and a half and was currently coursing through the days on auto-pilot, so when his phone buzzed for the umpteenth time he did not hesitate to open the message, assuming it was work-related. It however, was not, and when the realization finally hit his befuddled brain, he screeched and threw his phone across the room.
He hadn't thought about what was appropriately dubbed "The Incident" for more than approximately six or seven times; the first three times were in his room with the door locked while shamefully jerking off to the memory, the time after that he scolded himself for getting turned on by it and promising himself do never think about the memory again, and the last three times were in the shower shamefully jerking off, but at least with a change of venue.
The thought of his embarrassing actions and the constant buzzing of his phone raised the decibel of his shrieks, not caring about how loud they were due to the thick walls of his home office. When the embarrassment finally subsided, he retrieved his battered phone from the ground while he mentally and physically prepared himself for the messages he was about to read.
At first glance, he noticed a cringe-worthy detail on the recently altered contact information and he mentally promised himself to give the person responsible a nice punch to the testicles. He then proceeded to read the six messages he had received at the span of his hysteria moment.
FROM Hubbykins: Hi Hugsband! I was just saving a cat from a tall and nasty tree, and I was delivering her to her elderly owner when the owner noticed my ring and asked how a strapping young Casanova like me met my soulmate so early in life :):)
FROM Hubbykins: I told her I married my boss' son to get a promotion and then she got this sour look on her face, so she was either a homophobic cat-lady or she wanted me all to herself, but that is besides the point!! We need a cute backstory for our OTP <3<3
Noah's messages gives Dylan a headache most of the time, due to the excessive amount of emojis, but when reading through these two thoroughly he realized that they indeed needed to agree upon what story to tell the others at the barbecue. Dylan must've had a pretty busy week, because normally he would've taken this crucial detail into consideration much sooner.
