Page 11 of Keeping the Single Dad
“Are you going to just stand there or let me in?”
She folded her arms. “You can go home. I’m staying with Dad.”
“I want to see how he is.”
“He’s fine. He went to AA without a fuss. I’m moving in to monitor him.”
Of course, Mel would want to be in control of everything. Then she got to moan that I wasn’t doing enough. I couldn’t win either way. At least I ought to offer to help.
“Fine. I’ll move in, too.”
She raised a haughty eyebrow. “What’s the point of us both being here? I’ve got it under control.”
“Right, but can I at least stay tonight?”
She stared at me, before she hitched a shoulder. “Fine, but I want my shoes back, and my dress.”
I followed her down the hallway, stepping over boxes full of Dad’s junk. Football trophies and memorabilia spilled out of a crate. Some of them were mine from when I was a kid but most of them belonged to Dad. I picked up a heavy bronze football and spun it in my hands. The metal that had once gleamed was dull and coated in dust. All Dad had left of his glorious football career was a box of old trophies. It was a miracle he hadn’t tried to sell them like everything else.
In the kitchen, a hideous odor of rot and rubbish made me gag. Takeaway boxes and empty beer bottles littered the small table. Rubbish piled on every surface and the sink overflowed with filthy plates. Guilt pricked my neck. How had he got into this state and neither of us had noticed? I’d been so busy at the club.
Mel dusted her hands together and surveyed the mess. “I’ve finished cleaning the bathroom and the living room. The kitchen is next.” She shook her head. “Five years sober. Why now?”??
“It was the wedding anniversary. I forgot to call him.”
Mel stiffened. Heavy silence wrapped around us. A grim, restless energy made my stomach hurt. An hour ago I’d been having the best sex of my life, and now I had to deal with this look on Mel’s face and a kitchen that looked like it had been swept up in a hurricane twenty miles away and deposited here.
Mel scanned the half empty fridge before taking out a rotting pizza and throwing it in the bin. “Where were you tonight?”
I filled the sink with hot water and set to work on the washing up. “I had an interview with a journalist.”
And a roll in the sheets with a gigantic sexy Scotsman.?
“Very fancy.” Her mocking voice grated me. ?
“She’s blackmailing me.”
“What?”
Silence swirled around us. My heart pounded so hard, I felt it in my throat. Mel wouldn’t understand.
“Blackmailing you, how?”
I kept my back to her as I chipped at a porridge encrusted pan. “This stuff is like cement when it dries.”
“You can’t tell me you’re being blackmailed and not give me the details.”
I sighed and plunged the pan back in to soak. “She wants me to tell her secrets on the men’s team. If I don’t, then she’s going to run a story about Dad falling off the wagon. She’s got some photos of him pissing outside and ranting.”
A pause. My mouth went dry. I didn’t dare turn around and look at her face.
“Are you serious, Lana? How could you let this happen?”
Her words landed in my gut like kicks. Of course she’d make this my fault. None of it was my bloody fault.
“I’m going to the all-night grocery. We need washing up liquid.”
I tried to glide past her, but she caught me by the elbow. “What are you going to do?”
