Page 106 of Off-Ice Misconduct
My fingers freeze mid-reach for my water. He’s what?
It’s natural for my hands to form into fists, squeezing until the knuckles turn white. A razor-sharp stab slices through my heart, and the air goes thin.
“What about Mom?” I ask. My voice isn’t loud, but it feels sharp. Dangerous.
“I’ll always love Grace. Forever. She would have wanted?—”
“It’s him, isn’t it? Your assistant.”
He flinches.
And then it comes in a flood, all the bits of information he’s trickled into our conversations, things about incense and ties. Fuck, Dad took up yoga because of the man, that should have been my tip off. Even Mom couldn’t drag him to a yoga class.
He glances away, then at me, and then away again as if he’s trying to force himself to look me in the eyes. He picks up his coffee, realizes it’s empty, sets it back down, and swallows his cowardice, finally focusing on me.
“It was casual at first?—”
“And he’s your employee, and he’s my fucking age.” My voice rises.
Later, I’m gonna get an award for being the world’s biggest hypocrite, I know. But I can’t make sense of it. I feel sick, tamping down hard on the urge to vomit. This is about Mom.
Dad taps his finger on the table. “He is those things. I tried to stay away from him, Ace?—”
“But oops, your dick fell into him?”
“Ace.” His tone dips into warning. Dad looks around. Guess that was kinda loud.
“Or maybe he seduced you like the gold-digging slimeball he is.”
“It wasn’t like that. He’s not a gold-digger, Ace.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d do this to Mom. At least date someone your own age.”
Dad exhales slowly. At least one of us is calm, I guess, but he’s watching me as if he’s searching for the kid I used to be.
“So,” he begins, quiet and almost reluctant, “you’re really not gonna like this next part.”
My stomach drops.
“I asked him to marry me when we were in Hawaii.”
“You were …” My brain’s malfunctioning. I can’t process that fast enough. “I thought it was a business trip.”
“It was. He was there, working for me. It was impromptu because it was so beautiful and he was … well, maybe I can tell the story another day. It just happened.”
“It all just happened, I fucking guess,” I supply with extreme sarcasm. With how distant we’ve been, this feels like the final push. Like he’s leaving me and Mom behind. “Hope you’re happy with your new life.”
Tossing my cloth napkin down on the plate, I stand, chair legs scraping loud. People are watching, but I don’t care.
I make the mistake of looking at him. His jaw is tight, eyes glassy. There’s no fight in him—only the ache of loss. I recognize it, but I don’t get it.
What’s he losing? Our relationship died with Mom. And with how fast he gets over things, I’m sure he’ll forget about me by this time tomorrow as he rides off into the sunset with his hot assistant, East.
I leave. He doesn’t follow.
After the worst father and son brunch in recorded history—I’m sure of it—I slump my ass back to the house. Someone’s got to be around to pump me back up, tell me things with my dad aren’t hopeless and shit like that. The door to my and Bender’s room is closed, but I don’t think anything of it. He must still be asleep. From what was said in the group chat, it was one hell of a night. I don’t envy any of their hangovers.
I slip in quietly, and then I freeze.
