Page 43 of Dating the DILF
“Good to hear it.” The creak of leather sounds through the phone, followed by the snick of a lighter. I hear him inhale, then blow out a puff of air. I can almost smell the plume of smoke I know will be floating around his pallid, moon-shaped face. “We’re going to shoot a reunion show next month and you’re going to be on it.” The certainty in his voice has me gritting my teeth. “You’re going to be contrite and tell the country how you want to make amends. How sorry you are for breaking Aspen’s heart and screwing around with the makeup girl. Aspen will put on a good show, a little something for her video reel, before she forgives you. You tell us how the love of a good woman has redeemed you, you’re a changed man, and then voila, your reputation is absolved, and you can go back to living your life.”
“You’re an asshole,” I grit out doing my best to control my temper.
“That may very well be true, but I’m also great at what I do, Miles, and if you want your little girlfriend’s name to stop being in every tabloid in the country, you’ll start toeing the line.”
Charlie’s words ring in my ears. Her assurance that she can cope with this, that she’ll stick by me.
But for how long? How long am I willing to risk losing her, when all it will take to make it go away is a piece of my pride.
“I’ll think about it.” I hang up before he can answer. It’s the best I can do right now.
The silence surrounds me, and I sit down next to the ancient grill that Dad refuses to get rid of, wondering how my life got so fucking complicated.
The low hum of voices in the kitchen distracts me and I stand, ready to get back to my girls, but as I get closer to the kitchen, I realize those voices belong to Thomas and Charlie and a flicker of panic surges through me.
“Excuse me?”Charlie’s incensed tone urges me to move quicker.
“I’m just saying that it’s convenient how you turned up out of nowhere and now suddenly my brother’s name is being dragged through the mud all over again.”
“Are you insinuating thatI’mresponsible for the trash—”
“I’m saying I’m tired of seeing my brother hurt and if I find out you’re the one responsib—”
“You’ll what?” I bark. “What the hell are you doing, Thomas?” The fucker doesn’t even have the decency to look sorry. He merely matches my steely expression with his own.
“Someone needs to make sure—”
“Ineed to make sure, Tom. I’m the one who needs to be sure, not you. And I am. So back the fuck off and if I ever hear you talking to the woman I love like that again, we’ll be sorting things out the way we did when we were kids.” I grab Charlie’s hand, ignoring her round eyes, and pull her behind me.
It’s not until I’m sitting back at the table, the chatter of everyone around us masking my silence, that I realize what I just revealed.
Irub my eyes against the glare of my computer screen, the last few hours spent staring at the damn thing playing havoc on me. I risk another quick glance at the clock and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Lulu’s party started an hour ago.
I had been so sure I would make it. Determined to breeze in here at six this morning, skip yoga, power through these contracts and be at Miles’ in time to help him set up for the party.
Can you say delusional?
Instead, five hours later, I am still here with more than half the contracts yet to be reviewed and summarized.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s been the same all week. I try to concentrate but my mind is constantly distracted, too busy playing Miles’ words on repeat.
If I ever hear you talking to the woman I love like that again.
I’m not sure he even realized he said it, but I haven’t been able to forget. I’ve never had a man tell me he loves me. Hell, I don’t remember the last timeanyonetold me they love me. My mother loves me in the only way she knows how, but it’s not a conventional maternal love, and the only memory I have of her telling me she loved me was cocooned in an argument and thrown at me carelessly and painfully.
“I don’t care if you hate me!”
“I don’t hate you, Charlie, I love you. But that doesn’t mean I like you.”
My grandparents’ love for me is enduring and consuming, but they aren’t sentimental types and their love was always shown through actions, not words.
I had no idea how much I craved hearing the actual words until Miles hurled them at Thomas so nonchalantly.
God, Thomas. His accusatory glare is burned into my brain. I know he’s going to fault me if I miss the party today and I hate with a passion that I’m going to feed his distrust of me.
The idea of just leaving crosses my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. I have never left a job half-finished and no matter how much I’d like to, I can’t bring myself to start now.
