Page 67 of Her Ex's Father
The lodge in northern Colorado is as secluded as promised: a stone-and-timber masterpiece set against a river that cuts silver through the valley. Staff in crisp uniforms meet us at the helipad, whisking our bags inside. Derrick tosses his to a bellman and disappears toward his suite without a word. There’s still an air of embarrassment, guilt, trailing after him because of what he did.
I let him go. He’ll need space before we can find common ground.
My own room is a study in rustic luxury—leather armchairs, antler chandeliers, windows opening onto endless pine. But I don’t linger. After changing into waders and boots, I head to the river, rod in hand, praying he’ll follow.
He does. Eventually.
I hear him before I see him, crunch of boots on gravel as he trudges down the bank, rod slung over his shoulder like a reluctant soldier’s weapon. His hair is messy, his jaw shadowed. But at least he’s here.
“Didn’t think you’d come,” I say as he joins me on the rocks.
“I was bored.” He shrugs, but his eyes flick to the water, lingering there. “Smells the same.”
“Some things don’t change.”
We wade in, the cold bite of the river wrapping around our legs. The current pulls steady, insistent, but familiar. I cast first, the line singing through the air, landing with a soft plunk. Derrick watches, then mimics the motion, rough at first, then smoother, like muscle memory waking after years of sleep.
“Do you remember,” I call over the sound of the river, “the first time we came here?”
He’s turned away from me, but the pause lets me know he’s trying. “No,” he says finally. “Maybe. I’m not sure; there was an elk…”
I shake my head. “That was a few years later. The first time, you were two.”
Nowhe turns to look at me, his line rising and sinking effortlessly without focus to drag it down. “Well of course I don’t remember that, Dad.” The roll of his eyes, familiar, lacking cruelty for once.
I open my mouth to tell him about it: how Georgiana and I hadn’t intended to stop, hadn’t booked a room. We were both exhausted after driving to a possible location in Idaho that we were considering for a resort, but decided against. The trip was tiring, a letdown, and then… this place appeared.
Derrick had been fussy and sleepless almost the entire trip. We could’ve and probably should’ve brought help; a nanny or two. But all we wanted at that point was each other, alone. Chatting together in the car. Marveling at the small things Derrick did. Groaning over roadside burgers, without the upper class to look down on us.
No; he wouldn’t remember any of that.
For a while, we fish in silence. The river murmurs, birds dart above, and the rhythm of cast and reel pulls me back to mornings years ago, when Georgiana would bring thermoses of coffee and stand on the shore, smiling faintly as she watched us.
Derrick catches the first trout. His laugh—short, surprised—cuts through me. For an instant, he looks young again, eyes lit with something other than spite. He releases the fish, shaking water from his hands.
“You’ve still got it,” I say.
“Guess so.” He glances at me, something like pride flickering before his mouth twists. “Don’t get sentimental, Dad.”
But I already am.
By late afternoon, the sun slants golden through the trees. Derrick leans on his rod case, calmer than I’ve seen him in years. It feels like the moment—the one I came for.
I clear my throat. “Derrick, we need to talk.”
His eyes narrow. “Here we go.”
“Maddie and the baby?—”
“Don’t.”
“She’s your stepmother now. And soon, that child will be your sibling. We can’t keep tearing each other apart. I want you to be part of this family.”
He laughs, bitter. “Family? You mean the family where you marry the girl I wanted? Where you knock her up just to prove you still can?”
My temper spikes. “Watch yourself.” I take a deep breath in, let it out slowly, trying not to lose it on the riverbank. Trying to feel how Georgiana would want me to handle this. “Be honest, Derrick, you never wanted Maddie. She was just a business transaction?—”
“One that you completed when I decided not to step up. And you’re acting like she means more to you than that.”
