“I need time to figure things out. I’ll come back when I can be a better father to you and your brother.”
He drives until his car is nothing but a distant memory.
Now
Zoey: Girl, I’m sorry but I have to tell you. Callie just texted me. Will’s blowing up her phone. He wants to see her today.
Reading the text on my screen for the thousandth time, I try and trick my brain into believing that this is a misunderstanding. That there’s a rational explanation for this. One that doesn’t include Will deciding to pick up where he left off.
There’s no way he’s looking to fuck Callie again, right? I fight and fight, but the truth fights harder.
Rippppppp.
That’s the sound of my heart cracking open.
Way to ruin my day off.
Kass: Thanks for telling me.
To think I believed we were going somewhere yesterday. I thought when he said he drove to my house because he was worried about me that maybe…
God, I’m so stupid.
If he’d been able to pay Callie a visit yesterday, I’m sure he would’ve. Acting on impulse, I pull up a text conversation I haven’t opened in a long time.
Luke, the recipient reads.
Kass: Hey. We never got to go on that date.
Ten minutes later, my phone pings with a reply.
Luke: How’s tonight 8pm sound?
By the time I’m all prepped up and ready to go to Morgan’s for the day, it’s past eleven. Jogging down the stairs, I check my phone, still fuming at the thought of Zoey’s message. Fuck you, William Martins. I’m done wasting my time.
Turning the corner, I freeze at my mom’s voice and stretch my neck to see her roaming the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear. She doesn’t seem in the best mood, and by the looks of it, whoever’s on the other end of that call is to blame.
She keeps her voice down. “No, that’s enough, Nick. You need to stop harassing Kendrick.”
Nick.
She’s talking to my dad?
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to hide your calls? If your son wants to talk to you, he will.”
Wait, has my father been trying to contact us?
“No, I won’t talk to him for you. You’ve already said your piece. If he wants to meet you at Dale’s, he will.”
Dale’s.
My mind runs a thousand miles. Where have I heard that name before?
“And if you knew your son at all, you’d know he always gets hungry early. Seven’s way too late.”
I discern my dad’s muffled, barely audible voice but can’t make out what he’s saying.
“Goodbye, Nick,” she snaps, hanging up on him.
I immediately google Dale’s. The results trigger my memory, showcasing a restaurant downtown. A very fancy one at that. The kind of fancy where a glass of water costs fifty bucks. Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I pad into the kitchen, hugging my mom good morning and telling her I’m going to Morgan’s. And I am. For the majority of the day, at least. But I know where I’ll be at seven tonight…
Pulling into an empty spot at the restaurant and killing the engine, I peek at the time on my locked phone screen—6:59—and click on Will’s unanswered messages. He’s been texting me throughout the day, asking me what I’m doing.
Well, I sure know what he’s doing.
Or who.
I was in heaven when my mom called to tell me I could go pick up my car from the shop early. Let’s just say I wasn’t in the mood to crash my father’s dinner by bus. When seven strikes, I get out of my car and smooth down my clothes, collecting the little courage I have left with a spoon.
Breathe, Kass. You can do it.
I march toward the entrance with my head held high. I may look confident, but on the inside, I’m barely holding myself together. My outfit earns me a full-body scan from the ginger woman at the front desk. She raises her eyebrow, clearly thinking “Are you lost?” Can’t lie, she does have a point. I am definitely not dressed for this place.
“Hi, do you have a reservation?” she asks.
“I’m here to meet someone.” I hope to hell Kendrick didn’t change his mind and decide to show up at the last minute. I want my dad alone for this. “Nicholas Mitchell?”
Her eyes light up. “Of course. Follow me.”
I do just that, my pulse thundering in my neck. I only realize what I’m about to do when the waitress tells me, “Just a little further.”
I’m going to see him.
I’m about to see my dad for the first time in months and confront him. In a few minutes, I’ll know what truly happened that day. My fears multiply when I spot him in a wide leather booth at the back of the restaurant. He’s got his eyes locked onto his phone. He hasn’t changed one bit.
I frown when a woman comes up behind him, all smiles, and slides into his booth. My jaw crashes to the ground as a scene worthy of my worst nightmares plays out in front of my eyes.
No, it can’t be.
My hand flies to my mouth when she pulls on his face, plastering her mouth to his for a long kiss.
Finally, they pull away.
And my father sees me.
Panic twists his features. But he’s not nearly as freaked-out as I am. Because the woman previously eating my father’s face is not just any woman.
It’s Jenny.
Yes, Jenny, as in my twenty-two-year-old boss. Jenny as in the girl who cried in my arms about her boyfriend who has a kid. The same Jenny who told me she couldn’t stay away and had sex with him in his wife’s bed when the family house was empty. Jenny… is the reason my parents got a divorce.
I want to puke, scream, grab a plate off a waiter’s tray, and throw it in his face Frisbee-style. I want to unhave a dad. It all goes down in less than five seconds, but it feels much longer—like an excruciating eternity. Jenny takes notice of my father’s ghostly expression and follows his stare.
To me.
If my dad’s face is worth a thousand dollars, Jenny’s is worth a million.
“Kassidy, honey, let me explain.” My dad falters.
He has no idea how bad this is. He doesn’t know Jenny is my coworker. He doesn’t know she gave me explicit details about riding him in my mother’s bed and how much the forbidden aspect of it turned her on.
I think I might be sick right here on their expensive carpet.
“What’s going on here?” Jenny questions, seeming genuinely clueless.
My dad exhales. “Jenny, this is my daughte—”
“Don’t bother,” I cut him off. “She knows my name, don’t you, Jenny?”
“You two know each other?” my dad gathers.
That’s when I snap.
“Yes, we know each other, Dad. Want to know how? She’s my fucking boss.”
My outburst is quick to capture the attention of surrounding customers. Good thing I couldn’t care less.
“He’s the guy you told me about? My dad?” I yell at Jenny, who won’t even look at me, tears glimmering in her eyes.
Then it hits me.
The most probable explanation of how this all started. I always wondered why he quit his job as a college dean.