Page 93 of Keep Me

The odds were against us. If it wasn’t Erik getting in the way, it was Olana. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with at the Players’ Ball, Olana showed up. Following me around, drinking away, and only making her condition worse. All because I didn’t want to be with her anymore, and she was using it as a way to manipulate me.

I was tired of this. I was tired of being the crutch for others. Everybody wanted a piece of me except for the one person I would give everything up for.

“Thanks, Britt.”

I cut my gaze to her, trying my hardest to feel positive about tonight. I had no idea what my father would say, but I was almost certain this would be my last pleasant conversation with Britt. Once she saw how selfish and mean my dad was, she would drop me and our friendship as quickly as she planned on signing those divorce papers. Divorcing the woman of my dreams sucked, but it was the only thing we could do. If she didn’t want me, then how long could I keep chasing her before it became painfully obvious that I was making a fool of myself?

“Come on,” I whispered, squeezing her hand and studying her perfect red manicure. I ignored the fact that her hand fit perfectly in mine, because again, that would just make things worse. “Let’s get this night over with.”

Britt let me hold her hand the entire walk to the restaurant. In silence, I took the time to memorize what it felt like to be with her like this. Her thumb rubbing across my palm, offering quiet reassurance. Her perfume drifting in the air. We were married,and if this was the only time we’d publicly be together, then I was going to relish it.

When we stepped into the restaurant, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side. She squealed as she looked down at my hand, somewhat surprised by the move, but she didn’t back away. In fact, she placed her palm over my hand and leaned in.

Fucking perfect.

The waiter grabbed a couple of menus and asked us to follow him, and when I realized where he was going, I slowed.

“I thought we were sitting out here tonight?”

“No sir. Mr. Mathieson requested a private room.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead. A private room? What the hell was my father going to say that he wanted none of the other patrons to hear?

As the waiter opened the door to the small room, my father was at the end of a large square table, looking surprisingly well in a brand-new navy sports jacket.

“Ah, Ben. I’m glad you decided to show up.” My father grinned, and if I didn’t know him, I’d almost say he was happy to see me. Stone-cold sober, my dad looked bright and healthy for the first time in a long time, which was confusing. He stood, offering me a hug, but I didn’t accept it. I gave him a handshake instead. I was, however, surprised that he didn’t have the smell of alcohol on him. In its place was the heavy scent of the aftershave he used before my mom passed away.

Memories of my mother came to mind, soothing me in the strangest way.

When my dad’s eyes caught the girl behind me, his smile grew, and he let out an approved hum. “And this must be Brittany.” He sidestepped me, heading straight for my wife.

“She prefers Britt.”

Britt squared her shoulders, standing up straighter, accepting his handshake. “Mr. Mathieson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Effortless. Even in the worst of times, Britt’s demeanor remained natural. She refused to let anything faze her, and it was one of the things I loved about her.

Well, I loved everything about her, but that was a problem for a different day.

“Please. Call me Ben. We’re family now, aren’t we?” It felt like he was cracking a joke, but neither one of us found it funny.

“Let’s just eat,” I said as I studied the table to see where my father put the papers. They weren’t there, but there was a black bag close to his chair that I assumed carried the documents. He wouldn’t show his hand this early in the dinner, that was for sure.

I pulled out the chair for Britt, and she thanked me before taking her seat. After tucking her chair in, I sat next to her and opposite my father, trying to act as a barrier between them.

Nothing much was said between us when the waiter walked in. We gave our drinks order, and he left. Then it was the three of us again, sitting in silence.

“So, Britt, how did you and Ben meet?”

“Dad,” I hissed.

Britt rested her hand on my thigh, and my body relaxed. Oh, and my cock twitched. Fuck me, I had it bad.

“It’s okay. I’m happy to talk to Mr—Ben.” Turning to my dad, she said, “I met Matty early on freshman year. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“Friends?” My dad snorted out. “That’s it? You didn’t date? Cheat on Olana?”

And there was the first fuckup of the night. Britt’s lips pursed, her first time showing she wasn’t happy to be here. She shook her head, seemingly too pissed off to give him a verbal answer.

“So you were just friends?”

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